Out of a Clear Blue Sky

We were shown to a small table on the side. The waltz was just ending and couples were making their way back to their own tables. I turned to Tom. "I never imagined this place existed. It's like something out of a past era."

"Yes, in a lot of ways. I'll admit I like modern planes and technology, but I prefer this to much of the modern 'entertainment' scene." I could hear the quotes around entertainment in his voice.

"Then we are in perfect agreement. Once again."

In another minute the band began another song, a fox trot this time, and Tom turned towards me ans asked, "Would you like to dance?"

I smiled and gave him my hand so he could lead me out onto the floor. I was quite happy to find that he was a very good dancer. Perhaps it's something about the touch of a good pilot on the controls that carries over, but his lead, while firm, was never forceful, just a gentle guide to what I should expect.

We moved well together for a first time. I had no doubt that if this was repeated we would become even more amalgamed. We danced several numbers before returning to our table.

"You seem to be able to guess just what I would enjoy, Tom. Is mind reading one of your talents also?"

He laughed. "Not really. It's more likely that you just enjoy the same things as I do myself."

This whole thing seemed almost to much to believe. I don't just mean the dinner and the dancing. I mean a week ago I had just experienced stunt flying for the first time and I couldn't imagine anything better. Then along came Tom - literally from out of the blue - and my whole world changed. Stunt flying was wonderful, all right, but silently, in a glider, it was even more so. And Tom. He seemed too good to be true. Physically, one of the most attractive men I have ever met. He liked flying, liked most the same things I did. AND he didn't seem to mind that I flew and flew well. Almost too good to be true.

We finally left the club about eleven thirty. Tom helped me into the car and we started back towards town. The sky was mostly clear and the stars shone brightly with only an occasional small cloud to block their radiance.

The drive back was largely silent, but not at all uncomfortably so. More companionable silence. We pulled up in front of my apartment and Tom again walked me up to my door, took my key from me, and unlocked it. My mind was in some turmoil. This was really a first date, but did I want to invite him in and if so invite him in for what? A drink, some kissing, bed? I didn't really know. I finally opened my mouth, about to make the invitation, when Tom placed his finger across my lips. "Not just yet. Let's wait until the time is right."

Then he let his hands gently grasp my upper arms and leaned forwards. Our lips met in a firm, warm kiss, but not a clutch of wild passion. He was right. We would wait, but I could see little doubt of the eventual destination.

Twice that week we talked on the phone. On Monday evening Tom called to thank me for a wonderful evening. I'm sure I ended up thanking him at least as much. Then Wednesday night he called again to ask me out for Saturday. He suggested dinner and a movie, maybe a little more casual than the last time. I was happy to accept and we left open exactly what we'd be doing.

Friday night I was at home, looking forward to the next evening when the phone rang once again. I answered and heard Tom's voice. "Hi. About tomorrow night, I'm afraid we're going to have to postpone that movie."

"Oh, something come up?" I was afraid he could hear the disappointment in my voice.

"Yes, actually. I just received a desperate call from someone who needs some parts and equipment. By yesterday, of so he said, but he settled for tomorrow. I'm going to have to take the Queen Air on a trip of a few hundred miles tomorrow. I won't be able to make it back in time."

"Oh. I understand, Tom." This time I was sure he could hear the disappointment.

Then his voice changed a little and he said, "I was wondering if you'd like to have the right seat."

"Are you serious!? I'd love that. But, seriously, Tom, I don't have any multi engine time."

"Then this will be your chance to get some. It's just cargo, no pax, and you do have a commercial ticket. Oh, to keep everyone happy, I'll have to pay you for the flight."

A chance at multi engine time, and in a Queen Air! Sure it's probably older than I am but if an aircraft is properly maintained, that doesn't really matter. There are still some planes flying perfectly well after almost a century. "Tom, I should be paying you."

"Can't do that. I don't have an instructor rating. Really, Sandy, if you weren't going I'd be paying one of my regular co-pilots and since they've already flown a bit this week, I'd probably have to pay them a bonus for Saturday work. Not to mention if I don't pay you I'd have all kinds of grief from the labor relations people. Can you meet me at the field at about seven-thirty? That should give the people bringing the cargo over a chance to get it here and loaded and let us make an eight-thirty departure time."

"I'd love to make the trip. I don't have anything scheduled for the weekend that can't wait. Seven-thirty and I'll be there."

"That's wonderful. Oh, and one more thing. Depending on weather and a couple of things at the far end, we might have to stay overnight and come back on Sunday. The company will pay for your room and meals."

Flying light aircraft one gets used to the idea that trip plans can be put on hold and overnight stays are not unusual. In fact I kept a small bag packed for when I flew cross country for just such changes of plans. But to tease Tom a little I asked, "Will they pay for two rooms or just one?"

I was sure he could tell I was joking from my tone of voice but he came right back at me with, "Well, that will be up to you. After we fly you can see where you wont to roost for the night." We both laughed but we also both felt the undercurrents of our new relationship invading the teasing.

Saturday morning I was up early. I normally make appointments on time but today I had the excitement of what I'd be doing to spur me on even more. Not just the flying although that already had me higher than I expected we'd be flying. But there was also Tom. I had to admit to myself that I was falling for him hard.

I pulled out the bag I kept packed and looked at it. I kept a change of clothes but just jeans and a shirt along with underwear. Now I decided to add a dress in case we did stay overnight and wanted to go somewhere a little more formal. Then I thought about staying overnight. The bag had no night clothes as I sleep nude. But even though we had just been teasing was there a chance I'd actually decide to spend the night with Tom? I mean he had just kissed me once but it was clear the attraction was there and mutual.

Was I really thinking about going to bed with him? If I was honest with myself I had to admit that, yes, I was, but I certainly hadn't decided. For that matter he hadn't asked me. Still, just in case, I opened the bag and added what I hoped was a sexy peignoir set.

At a quarter after seven I pulled up outside the Larson Air hangar and parked. I could see a twin engine Queen Air on the apron outside and assumed this would be the one we would be taking. As I started over towards it A truck pulled up alongside and two men got out. One moved around to the rear of the vehicle and opened the big back door while the other walked over to where I saw Tom climbing down from inside the plane. They spoke for a few seconds and then Tom headed towards the hangar while the men began to unload some boxes from the truck and move them on board the aircraft. I changed direction and met up with Tom just as he reached the small door into the hangar.

"Hi," I called.

"Hi," he answered back. "Come on into my office and I'll brief you about the flight."

We walked over to the hangar and inside to a small office along one wall. Tom moved behind the desk and indicated a chair next to it for me. Spreading a chart, he said, "The destination is near San Antonio." He pointed to a small airport not too far from the city. San Antonio has a lot of airfields nearby, including several large Air Force bases. Fortunately this field wasn't really near any of them. He continued, "I would expect about three and a half hours if there isn't much headwind. The B80 cruises at about 180 knots." He went on to point out an alternate field or two in case we ran into any weather, although nothing was really expected. Then he gave me a little technical information on the aircraft.

I knew the Beechcraft Queen Air was a low wing, twin engine craft. This one, a B80 model, was from the mid nineteen seventies but didn't have too many hours on it. Tom had been lucky in finding one that had belonged to a private owner who had died. His family just wanted to sell the plane and he was able to obtain a good price, especially for one in such good condition. When configured as a passenger carrying craft, the B80 model would seat nine pax, but this one had only two passenger seats and was mainly used for cargo. On this trip it would be strictly cargo - otherwise I couldn't have had the right seat.

Tom went over the preflight checklist, some emergency procedures, and a few other things. He was just finishing giving me a few differences between this and the single engine planes I had flown when one of the men from the truck outside stuck his head into the office and said, "All loaded, Mr. Larson."

"Good. I'll check that everything is secure before takeoff. Have you got a total weight for me?"

"Right here." He passed over a clipboard with several papers attached. Tom studied the top one for a moment. Then he turned to the second, quickly read over it and signed his name at the bottom. I could see there was already another signature next to his. He pulled a copy and handed it back to the man.

"OK, we'll get it there as soon as we can. I'd guess between twelve and one, but I'll give a call when we're closer."

"Great! Someone will be very happy to get that call and they'll meet you at the field. Thanks again for making the trip on a Saturday."

Tom stood and they shook hands before the man turned and left the office. Tom turned to me and said, "If you're ready we can go ahead and get started. Oh, the restroom is around the corner to your right."

Actually we both headed there before going outside the hangar. Any small plane pilot knows to do that before a flight. If not they rapidly learn.

Outside we walked over to the plane and climbed inside. I watched as Tom inspected the cargo, making sure it was well anchored. Then I followed him as he completed his pre-flight walk around. One more short walk to file a flight plan and we once again boarded the aircraft.

Tom took his place in the left seat and I settled into the right. He handed me the printed check list and I read off items as he did what was necessary. When we reached the proper point he started one engine and a little later the second. A couple of times he pointed out particular controls to me as he inspected them. We had both donned headphones against the noise and when the list was completed and the engines had had a chance to warm up he made a call to the control tower. "Tower, this is Queen Air N75, ready to taxi."

"N75 you are cleared to taxi to runway 28. Hold there and advise when you are ready to take off."

"Roger, Tower, N75."

I just sat in my seat and watched as Tom steered the craft to the end of the designated runway and turned into position perpendicular to it. Again we went through a check list. When that was completed he made sure I knew where the gear and flap controls were and said, "When I call for it, you can raise the gear. All set."

I nodded and he made another call to the tower. "Tower, Queen Air N75. Ready for takeoff."

The call came back immediately. After all, there didn't seem to be any other traffic just now. "N75, Tower. You are cleared for takeoff. Have a good trip."

"Roger, Tower, thanks. We'll try. Probably be back tomorrow. N75."

He reached over and advanced the throttles and steered the plane out onto the runway, turning it to face down the long asphalt strip. He advanced the throttles now, driving the engines to a truly loud roar. I could feel the two big Lycomings trying to pull the plane forwards despite the brakes until at last Tom released them and we began a forward roll. I had watched as he had done the weight and balance calculations and knew that with fuel, cargo and everything we weighed in somewhere near 7500 pounds, a lot heaver than the planes I was used to. But then when I flew I didn't have nearly eight hundred horsepower at my command.

We quickly picked up speed and far short of the end of the runway I felt the ground vibration stop and almost immediately Tom said, "Gear up." I reached over and moved the control and could hear the sound as the wheels retracted. I had never piloted a plane with retractable gear but was only a little surprised that I could instantly feel a difference in the way the craft flew as the plane became much more streamlined.

We climbed through the pattern and as Tom called out different flap settings I moved the controls. The B80 can climb over a thousand feet per minute so we gained altitude quickly. (Of course nothing like as quickly as in Sam's acrobatic craft.) At last we settled down on a course a little west of south at ten thousand, five hundred feet. The sky was clear with just a few high clouds and Tom said, "If the weather changes we'll have to go on instruments, but as long as everything stays nice we'll stay VFR. If we stay down here we won't need oxygen even if it might cruise a little more efficiently at fifteen. Now, Sandy, why don't you take it for a little. Just get the feel of the controls and you'll find it's not that different from a single engine."

He had already shown me how to sync the engines and mentioned a few things I should be aware of. I had never handled a multi engine but I wasn't afraid of it or anything. Let's just say I was a little cautious. After all this was not a cheap airplane. It probably cost more than I would make in ten years at my current job. Still, I was excited and quite ready as I reached forward and took the yoke. Tom raised his hands clear and smiled at me. I smiled back and began to get the feel of the controls.

In a very short time I began to feel quite comfortable with this plane. It responded nicely to the controls and I quickly lost any apprehension I might have had about flying it. Besides, if anything happened, Tom was there just on my left.

For the next thirty minutes I flew the airplane. A couple of times Tom gave me some advice to make things a little easier, but overall I found I was having a ball. After that half hour he did take the controls back for a while to give me a break even though I felt I could have kept going for much longer. I think he noticed how I felt and after I had checked our position against the chart, compared actual times to estimates and fidgeted around in general, he asked if I wanted it back again. I happily took him up on the offer and he settled back, letting me fly the plane. I'm sure he was keeping track of our progress as once or twice he told me to alter course slightly to correct for the winds. Still, there was no question that I was flying the craft: No back seat (left seat?) Driving from Tom. I took that as quite a compliment.

Sometime after we had left Waco behind us on our right Tom made the call so our arrival would be met. Then as we neared our destination he took the controls back with an almost apology. "I'd better take it now. Sometime when we're a little lighter I'll let you practice some landings, but it would probably be better if we're unloaded the first time."

I smiled at him and replied, "Sure. I'd hate to prang your nice aircraft. Not to mention someone might be a little unhappy if I damage the cargo." He laughed in response as I lifted my hands from the yoke and leaned back in the seat.

Although Tom was now flying he had me make the call to the tower and go through the prelanding checklist with him. I also watched closely at what he did so that if I ever did get a chance to try a landing myself, I'd have some idea of what might be different from what I was used to.

Once on the ground we taxied over near the edge of the small field where I could see a parked van bearing the same logo as the truck which had brought the parts to the plane this morning. We shut down the engines and climbed out of the cabin. Tom went over and shook hands with one of the men. They spoke for a few seconds and then the two began to retrieve things from inside the plane. This only took a few minutes. Then they compared things as they were loaded into the van with the list on the paper Tom had given them. Finally, after everything had checked out, they signed for delivery, shook hands again, and drove away from the field.

I helped Tom move the aircraft over to a tie down and followed him inside while he made arrangements to have it refueled. He also checked the weather expected for the afternoon and for the next day and found it to look much the same. With good weather still expected the next day he suggested and I quickly agreed that we stay the night and fly back on Sunday.

By the time everything was done it was nearing one thirty. He turned to me and asked, "Ready for some lunch?"

Lunch? I had been so excited I had completely forgotten about eating. Now that he mentioned it, however, I realized I was getting a little hungry. Still a little surprised that I had forgotten about food I said, "Sure. I had actually forgotten about it but I am getting a little hungry."

"Do you like barbecue? I know a little place near here that has some of the best Tex-Mex I've ever tasted."

"That sound wonderful! I love that stuff."

We went back inside once again and Tom managed to find a car we could rent. With that and the plane taken care of, we retrieved our bags from the plane and put them into the trunk. Tom held the door for me before going around to take the driver's seat.

We started away from the field and Tom commented, "You know, you looked like you had been flying twins for years. You really are a very good pilot."

I felt slightly embarrassed. "Thanks," I said. "I doubt I was really that good but it didn't feel too different from a single."

"It isn't really. Mostly just more of the same with twice as much to watch. But, yes, you did quite well." Then after a short pause, "This your first time down here?"

"Yeah. I've been to Fort Worth but no closer. But it still looks like Texas."

He laughed. "It still is Texas although I'll admit that does cover a LOT of space." After a second he added, "I once surprised some people when I told them that Texarkana is closer to Chicago than it is to El Paso."

I laughed with him. "Yes! It's the only place I've ever seen with four digit numbers on the Interstate mileposts."

For the next few minutes we spoke about some of the places we had been and would like to see, but then we turned onto a small road and in a half mile pulled up beside a small, single story building with a sign outside, "SAM HOUSTON BARBECUE."

Tom shut off the car and came around to open my door. The place didn't look like much. I could only think of a small, family run place. It seemed surprising it could survive out here, probably six miles from the nearest small town. "Best food of this type I've ever had," he commented.

Well, there were a dozen or more vehicles parked next to it. I say vehicles. There were two cars besides ours and the rest were pick ups. As we neared the door I began to catch the scent of the food inside and I had to admit it did smell wonderful.

A waitress showed us to a small table against one wall and handed us a single page menu. Just typed and laminated in plastic. We looked at these for a few seconds and I finally asked, "Any particular recommendations?"