A Gift of Wings

“Well, of course. I could turn …”

“One thousand feet?”

“That’s plenty high enough to …”

“Five hundred feet? Three hundred feet? One hundred feet? Do you see what I mean? Our instructors teach that a pilot should know his turn-around altitude for every takeoff he makes.”

“Then you have outlaw instructors, too.”

“Yes.”

“And I suppose they teach spins and lazy eights …”

“… and prop-stop glides and forced landings to touchdown and aerobatics and flying without trim or flight controls and … and a lot of things you’ve never even thought about in your hours on autopilot.”

I replied with penetrating sarcasm. “Your students, I suppose, all get their licenses in the minimum thirty-five hours?”

“Our students never get a license. We’re outlaws here, remember? We judge our ability by how well we know ourselves and our airplanes, day to day. We leave the paperwork and the licenses to people who live by regulations instead of knowing.” He finished with the magneto, and removed the timing disc. “Let’s go eat.”

The dining hall was a gigantic underground cavern, lighted by tall bright panels printed with diagrams and cutaways of engine and airplane components. The hall was half filled with black-clad men, and rows of black hats and black gun-belts hung from the black hat-racks. I noticed, with a shock, that a black silk cape hung from the first rack.

“Drake would like the pleasure of your company.”

The last thing I wanted then was to sup with the leader of this outlaw band, but I dared not say so. I followed my guide to a corner table, at which sat a lean, square-jawed figure, clothed all in black.

“Here he is, Drake. We made up a new breaker spring for his left mag, and our debt to him is paid.”

“Thank you, Bart.” The voice was low and sure, obviously the voice of a madman, and a man to be treated as such.

“I demand my rights,” I said firmly. “I insist that you release me at once, and allow me to leave this robbers’ roost.”

“You have your rights,” he said, “and you may leave whenever you wish. You know, of course, that at the moment our downdrafts exceed your ability to make your airplane climb. We’ve also found that your number four connecting rod is cracked, and may fail at any time. If it fails within fifty miles of this room, you do not have the ability to land your airplane without destroying it. Knowing these things, if you still wish to leave, you may leave. You might be lucky in the wind, and the rod might not break immediately.”

He was obviously a crazed gunman, and I destroyed his point at once. “I have flown over fifteen hundred hours in that very airplane, Mr. Drake, and I certainly ought to be able to fly it safely in this paltry wind. And if you had not been so hasty to kidnap me, you would have seen that my engine has only fifty hours since major overhaul by a reputable firm, for which I paid $1,750, and for which I have a receipt and an inspector’s signature in the logbook.”

The meal was silently served, and during the serving Drake looked at me with the hopeless, slightly sad look of a craven criminal.

“The connecting rod of your number four cylinders does not even know what a logbook is. Will it comfort you to read your logbook and trace the inspector’s signature when your propeller stops turning and there is no place for you to land?”

The man, I had to admit, was uncanny. Actually if such an impossible thing as a fifty-hour engine quitting in flight could happen, it would be a comfort to read the inspector’s name again, but the way he said it made the idea of depending on a signature sound silly. I set him straight.

“One chance in a million, my dear Drake, and I am not that one. As long as a pilot is legal, he is safe. Furthermore, anything that breaks the regulations of the Federal Aviation Agency is unsafe. Surely a government agency should know what is safe and what is not.” To my amazement, the madman laughed. Not scornfully, but as though he had thought of something that he found humorous.

“You are priceless,” he said, laughing still. “Or perhaps I misunderstand. When you speak of this infallible government agency, do you mean the same government agency that removed training in spins from its pilot requirements? The same agency that now says it is well merely to teach approaches to stalls rather than full stalls, when the stall-spin is a major cause of modern pilot fatality? Do you mean the same regulating body that sets a brand-new mechanic to work on an old-style radial engine, while it brands ‘outlaw’ the unlicensed owner who knows more about the engine than the mechanic will ever learn? The same agency that requires itself to hire ten blind paper shufflers for every able man it has?”

He laughed again, setting down his fork. “The same agency I wrote so long ago for information, that told me, ‘It is not considered essential to flight safety for a person to know the actual design load factor of his airplane,’ and refused to send me information from public files?”

“I mean the Federal Aviation Agency,” I said, and I spoke with solemn dignity. The brigands round about clearly had no respect for authority, for they looked at me and smiled, as though they could hear what I said and as though they too had thought of something humorous. I decided then to destroy their leader’s position in front of them all, and raised my voice so that all could hear.

“Then you feel that the Federal Aviation Agency is all bad, Mr. Drake, and should be abolished?”

“Of course not,” he said quietly. “Some kinds of aviation, airlines, for instance, need central coordination to fly efficiently, to serve their customers and the country.”

“Well, if you don’t think it should be abolished, why are you not a law-abiding man, a follower of regulations?” I had destroyed the man by his own logic, and I had to smile. I awaited his abject concession.

“Just because I say I enjoy a steak from time to time, my friend, does not mean I want a cow stuffed down my throat. We outlaws fly and maintain our own airplanes for fun, we don’t fly DC-8s on international airways.”

Curse him. “The rules, man, the rules! They are made by the FAA for our own safety!”