Bidding War (16 page)

She crouched down and pointed to the wheels "The wheels retract, hiding up inside the wing once we're in the air."

"So this is a faster plane?"

"About fifty percent faster. That one," she said, pointing to the other plane, "flies at about 95 knots. This one flies a little over 150."

"Knot?"

"A little faster than one mile per hour."

"So, one hundred sixty miles per hour instead of one hundred?"

"About, yes."

Then she pulled me to the front of the plane and pointed to the propeller. "This is a constant speed propeller. Again, it's hard to explain, but the effect you care about is that once we're in the air, it is quieter with less vibration. I care about those plus the fuel efficiency."

I turned to face her. "So it's a beautiful airplane?"

She smiled. "Yes. Are you willing to fly with me?"

I returned her smile. "Of course. It sounds like fun." I paused and gave her a critical look. "You won't get me sick will you?"

"No. No loop-di-loops."

"Where do I sit?"

"You'll have to get in after I do," she said. "Unfortunately, the only door is on the passenger side. I didn't want to make you wait in the car while I did the preflight inspection, so we'll be a few minutes."

At that, she walked me to the left side of the plane and climbed onto the wing. "I'll explain how to get in shortly," she said. "For now, wait on the ground."

I nodded. She opened the door and climbed in. I heard her flip some switches and do some things inside. Then the plane spit up on the ground.

"There's a leak!"

"It's okay. That was intentional. I'll explain in a minute."

The wriggled some controls, and the various pieces of the plane wagged at me, then she climbed back out with a checklist in her hand and a little plastic cup. "We start here and we check for things that look wrong. She looked under the plane, then began walking around it clockwise, heading first for the tail. She brushed her fingers along the skin of the plane as she walked. She examined a little hole in the side of the plane, then moved to the tail. She gave it a little shake, then walked to the back of the plane. I followed her.

She pointed to bolts that were holding the rearmost parts of the back wing to the rest of the back wing. "I make sure the bolts are properly seated. Nothing loose." Then she did the same thing to the back of the tail that went up and down. It moved, too.

We continued to walk around the plane. There was another hole to look at, then the parts along the back of the front wings to check. When we got to the front of the plane, she opened a fuel cap in the wing and looked into it. "Full." She showed me. The fuel was an inch or two from the top. She put the cap back on.

She crouched under the wing and reached forward. I didn't see what she did, but when she crawled back out, the little plastic cup was full of a slightly blue liquid.

"Is that gas?"

"Yes," she said. "There is a little drain at the lowest point of the wing, and water is heavier than gasoline. If there were any water in the fuel, I would be able to tell."

At the very front of the plan, she looked into two big holes right behind the propeller, then ran her fingers slowly along the propeller. "Feeling for nicks," she said. "There are a few very light ones, which are okay, but anything serious means we wouldn't fly."

At the other wing, she checked the fuel again, then she crouched under that side and checked the gas there, too. Then she pointed to the fuel on the ground. "That spit out from the lowest point of the entire fuel system. If there were water in it, you could see. I've never had that happen, but you check anyway."

We finished our tour of the airplane and she turned to me. "I need to pull it out of the hangar and close up."

"Do you want help?"

"No. Just don't let me run you over."

She stepped to the front of the plane. I stepped back. She grabbed the propeller and a metal handle that was attached to the front wheel and began pulling. The plane moved slowly at first, and I could tell she was pulling as hard as she could, but then it began to roll, and it looked easier. She pulled the plane out of the hanger and onto the blacktop, then turned it to the right and let it come to
a stop. The she waved me clear of the hangar door and closed it slowly before rejoining me outside.

"Fit to fly. Last chance to change your mind."

"No way," I said. "This cat is just more curious than ever."

She smiled broadly. "I'm glad. I hope you enjoy this. We will be in the air for about two and a half hours. I hope you don't need to use the bathroom."

I did some math. "Four hundred miles."

"Honey, please don't ruin this. Let me surprise you."

"Are you going to blindfold me again?"

"No."

"Are we having steak for dinner?"

"Maybe," she said.

"They have nice steaks in Omaha."

"They do."

"There's nothing to do in Fargo," I observed.

"Fargo isn't that far, anyway."

"We're not dressed for International Falls."

She glared at me. "You're pushing my buttons."

I grinned. "I wonder how far it is to Rapid City."

She smiled but didn't say anything. "Are you done?"

"For now."

"Brat."

I bowed. "At your service." Then I stepped into her arms and surprised her with a quick kiss. "I love our date so far."

She showed me how I would climb into the plane, pointing where I could and could not step. "You can hang on to this handle, and there is a handle inside the door. Do not hang onto the door itself."

"Right."

She climbed in first. I waited until she had moved into her seat, then carefully followed her. While standing on the wing at the door, I saw she had a towel on my seat. I stepped
onto the towel then slipped into the plane. She whisked the towel out from under me as I sat down.

"There are two sets of controls!" I said. "You're not expecting me to help, are you? Am I the co-pilot?"

"Nope. You get to ride along and enjoy the trip. I need you to pull the door closed. I can't reach it without crawling all over your lap."

I reached up, stretching, and grabbed hold of the handle on the door.

"Just close it gently," she said. "I'll handle it from there." So I brought it to a gentle close. She reached past me and did something, and I heard the door latch closed tightly.

Then she adjusted her seat, and I saw pedals on the floor moving in front of me.

"Will you teach me?" I asked her.

I looked over and she was smiling. "I would love to. Do you really want to learn?"

"Yes."

"All right. You can adjust your seat just like on a car. There's a lever underneath you. Pull it up
and slide your seat so that you can reach the pedals with your feet, but make sure you have enough room that you can keep your feet out of the way when I'm flying."

It took me a few tries, but finally I was adjusted. I could reach the pedals. Then she did something with the steering wheel. It went forward and backwards, and she made sure it didn't punch me in the tummy.

We buckled up. It was more complicated than a car, and she handed me a set of headphones that were huge.

"You'll want that after we start up," she said. "Last, last chance."

"This is going to be fun, Moira. I'm a little nervous, but not afraid."

"Good." Then she consulted a checklist, flipping pages until she arrived at the one she wanted. She started doing things with all the switches in front of her. "If you take real lessons, the instructor will teach you all this," she said.

"Not you?"

"I can, but I'm not a professional flight instructor, so it wouldn't count if you were to decide to get your license."

"So a flight instructor would have to show me again?"

She nodded.

"I would rather learn from you first, even if I have to learn again from someone else."

She smiled, then reached over and patted my knee. "Next time. If you're really curious, I'll give you books to read first."

She flipped a few more switches then said, "I'm going to start it up. It will be a little bit loud. You'll want the headphones after that."

"I won't be able to hear you."

She reached over and pointed at a microphone on the headset.

"Ohh," I said.

She flipped one more switch, then turned the key. The propeller turned around a couple of times, then the engine roared to life. Moira adjusted some controls, and it grew quieter. I put on my headphones and watched her put on hers.

"Can you hear m
e?" I heard over the headphones.

"Yes."

She looked over and adjusted my microphone. It had been sticking up alongside my ear. She moved it until it was right at the corner of my mouth. "Try again," she said.

"Better?"

"There we go. Now, I need you to make sure you keep your feet clear of the pedals."

"All clear."

She did something, and the engine grew a little louder, and we began rolling forward. We rolled until we had reached the end of the row of hangars we were next to before we came to a stop.

Then she began playing with the radios and tuned in an automated voice that was describing the weather. She pulled a clipboard out from a side pocket and began taking notes. She listened to the recording twice before flipping switches on the radio again. It grew quiet.

"I need to talk to the tower for a minute, so no talking."

I nodded.

"Crystal Ground, Mooney three seven five yankee delta, at northeast hangers with information papa, request taxi to the active."

I heard another voice say, "Mooney three seven five yankee delta, proceed to active, hold short, runway three two right."

Then Moira said, "Hold short, three two right. Yankee delta." She paused. "There we go. You can talk again."

"What was that?"

She gave the engine some gas, and we began to roll forward.

"We asked the tower if we could drive over to the beginning of the runway. He told us yes but told us don't actually go onto the runway without additional permission."

We made a left turn, and I looked over. The tower was out my right window. Straight ahead I could see downtown Minneapolis.

The ride was rougher than in a car. I could feel every bump. I grimaced at one bump and she said, "Shock absorbers are heavy. It's smooth in the air, and that's what matters."

I nodded.

We arrived at what appeared to be a parking area near the end of the runway. She spun us around so we were facing the way we had come. I watched as another airplane landed. It rolled along the runway then took off again.

"What was that?"

"Practicing landings. Pilots do that a lot." She paused. "I have another checklist to run through, if you can hold your questions."

"Sure."

She talked to herself, running through another page of checklists and flipping switches. Then she did something and the engine grew loud. She tapped several gauges, then quieted the engine again.

"All set," she said. She gave it a little gas and we rolled forward a few feet before she turned us to the left and took us near the runway. She flipped switches on the radio. "I have to talk to the tower again."

I nodded.

"Crystal Tower, Mooney three seven five yankee delta, holding short, runway three two right. Requesting takeoff and northeast departure."

"Mooney three seven five yankee delta, cleared to take off, runway three two right, right turn approved."

"Yankee delta," she said.

We rolled forward and turned to face down the runway.

"Last chance, Pamela," she said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Let's go, Moira. This is exciting!"

"No talking now for the next few minutes, then we can talk all the way to our destination."

"Gotcha."

She gave it some gas, and the engine grew loud, even through the headphones. We began rolling.

"I know it's loud," she said. "But open your headset for a second and see what it's like without them."

I cracked the seal around my ear, and it was really, really loud. I resettled the headphone in place and nodded to her.

We continued to roll forward, going faster and faster.

"It will be quieter soon," she said. "Here we go." She pulled back on the steering wheel. "We're flying."

I looked out the window. The wing was right below us, but I looked ahead and watched the ground disappearing below us.

"You'll want to look out, not down. If you look down, you're more likely to get airsick."

I nodded. She had told me not to talk.

"We're about to turn to the right," she warned me. "The first turn can be a little scary." She waited a few more seconds, then the wing on my side dipped to the ground. I watched as we began a slow turn towards the right. Then she leveled the wings. I looked down and saw the freeway below us. We followed the freeway.