WHAT THE JET AGE LEFT BEHIND.
By: Robert D. Packham
Here is a first hand impression of the DC3. I tried to keep it brief.
There is nothing in the world quite like flying a DC3. Walk up through the cabin to the cockpit. It may
look impossible, but you really can squeeze into the left or right seat with relative ease. Slide the window
back and take a look around. This is the top of the world!
From the moment number two's starter kicks in, pilots and passengers alike are in for a real treat. Those
engines at idle produce a most wonderful sound. The smell of the cockpit, with its worn leather, hot radio
tubes, stale cigarette smoke, and untold gallons of spilled coffee is my Heaven-on-Earth.
Kick off the parking brake and goose the engines a little. She begins to roll forward. Even though I did it
before releasing the breaks, I would always crane my neck one more time as I checked the right and left
wings for clearance.
As we taxied toward the runway, I steered with engine power, only tapping the brakes as a last resort on
a windy day. The slightest dip in the pavement reverberated throughout the entire airframe and generated
all the familiar creaks and groans. Banging wire coat hangers on the cockpit door were as soothing to me
as the most heavenly wind chime. These moments should really be an item on the check list. This is
aviation. The airplane was already talking to me and saying, "Get me to the runway. I want to fly."
One airliner ritual from a past long forgotten is the engine run-up at the end of the runway...with the
cockpit windows wide open. It's what real power sounds and feels like. Complete the checklist, swing on
to the runway, line up with the center line, and lock the tail wheel. We are ready.
Then come those magic words, "Cleared for takeoff." Push the throttles all the way forward and hang
on. Where visibility had been primarily through the side windows, as you accelerate and are pushed back
into your seat, the tail rises and you are suddenly presented with a straight on view of that long ribbon of
concrete moving faster and faster beneath you. Then, at just the right moment, (you can tell it by feel) a
gentle tug on the yoke breaks you free of the ground and it falls away. Perform the acrobatic gear-up
ritual, come back on the power a little and continue to climb.
Once the aircraft is at altitude and properly trimmed, it nearly flies itself. On a calm day, all that's needed is
a finger on the elevator trim. It's time to sit back and enjoy the view, and what a view it is! It seems as
if the world is unfolding beneath you and at just the right speed. It's fast enough to see the ground pass by,
yet slow enough to see what people are doing.
Watch the traffic and people on the streets in the towns you fly over. It's a more innocent form of
voyeurism, really. You can actually watch someone pull into a parking spot, get out of their car and walk
into the drug store as you fly by. On a Friday or Saturday evening in the Fall, you even have time to watch
a couple of plays during a high school football game. All the while, the steady beat of the engines make it
sound as if the thing could go on forever, always over that next range of hills or mountains on the horizon.
But all good things must come to an end. Come back on the power, move the prop levers full forward,
and start your descent to your destination. The bumping and bouncing around is nothing more than the
airplane saying, "No. Not yet. I don't want to stop." Enter the pattern, line up with the runway, and drop
the gear. Go through the "gotta wheel, got pressure, gotta light" routine and drop some flaps. Then just
keep her lined up as you watch the end of that runway come up to you.
If you're like I used to be, you cross the end of the runway, start your flare, and actually talk to the
airplane to coax it onto the ground. It really does work. "Come on baby. Settle in sweetheart. Easy now.
We're almost there." Then comes the little bump and the screech of rubber on concrete. Close the
throttles and just let her roll it out nice and easy. Unlock the tail wheel, open the cowl flaps, and gently
turn off the active runway.
Once parked with the brakes set, pull the mixture levers to idle-cut off and wait a second or two. The
engines stop coughing and belching and the props come slowly to a stop. Notice the deafening silence,
broken only by the metallic tinks of the engines cooling. It was always a great ride.
Switches off.
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