Reposted from: 2nd Annual Mudspike Christmas Flight AAR Thread - #255 by TheAlmightySnark
Coffee.
Coffee is love, coffee is life, as I sip the black sludge offered from this avian gods forsaken place in the middle of nowhere. GE called me out because some numpty with the desire to fly a F-14 to the Antarctic couldn’t bother opening the “Me and my first gasturbine engine” kit from Mattel™.
In the end, all I needed to do was step out, throw a clipboard in his face and find the nearest bar to get blackout drunk, because frankly, there’s not much else to do when send out on Aircraft On Ground(AOG) jobs. The Bill of Work(BOW) literally said that, I am not kidding. GE paid me good money to get on a dinky toy, buy a clipboard, attach a picture(let’s be honest, words are difficult for fighter jocks) and throw it in the first face I’d see. I did a complimentary inspection, given that a stamp and autograph was required, something something insurance.
Anyway, 24 hour benders are fantastic but my unfortunate “Party Jet 2016 vodka-train into 2017” is still stuck in Columbia. I’d doubt the scientist and shovels worry too much, I left the bar unlocked and made sure the supply delivery had a sufficient amount of potent potables included.
As luck would have it the swing wing monstrosity has left the vicinity of my visual cortex which pleases me to no end. Those things should have been scrapped decades ago but weirdo’s like those two insist on flying em… Yeah bothers me vigorously… Oh well.
I board the violently bright Airbus whilst slowly regretting the lack of water the night before. Oh well, that is the life of maintenance and company flights! I strap myself in before the engines roar to life, knowing the average pilot loves to break these things, and well. I am rather safe then sorry.
ring ring
What…? No way…
RING RING
Sure enough, Someone managed to kill the local flora and fauna with their turboprop and insists on a DC-3 maintenance crew to handle the fixer upper job. Sometimes I wonder of everyone but me is suicidal in this wicked world! Since when are DC-3 mechanics experts on gasturbine engines?!
After few layovers and 5 whiskey’s later I am in Mexico, or so I think. The DC-3 crew assists me in removing whatever remains of the birds and after a quick inspection we call it good enough. Managed to make a few bucks off it too! Who knew catering likes birdies?!
Then again, last I heard was something something Antarctic… Is this even real or am I mistaken in everyone gathering down south?! If so I expect a wreckage strewn runway amidst the white desert. Oh well, my trusty twinjet goes everywhere! I wave off whatever was flying this aircraft and focus on what’s really important, finding tequila!
But, not before I make a quick call to my contacts in Columbia and have them find every GE and PW part they can find and load it in the cargo hull. I’ve got a feeling there’s money to made, and when there’s money to be made in aviation it means vast quantities, obscene amounts. Dragon attracting amounts of money, capisce?!
Another few hours later I land in Columbia, soon to be greeted by my half-drunken rag tag band of scientists and assorted aircraft parts that have been stowed in every cranny they could find. Gotta say, I appreciate their efforts!
A few hours later and I’ve got my next leg figured out, this should give me a few hours to sober up for the landing.
sip
Yep, that’s coffee alright.
A clunky noise is heard as I put my mug down on the center pedestal(That’s what MX things radiostacks are for Deal With It). It’s a slightly damp and foggy day in Cali, which combined with the lack of motion in the outside air makes for a very uncomfortable experience in the party-jet.
Not being a inhumane form of non-legitimized offspring I opt for kicking in the ground power and airco. Soon enough I’ve got the INS zipping to life as it desperate yearns for a location fix. Wich, in my grace and fortune decide to allow. I really am a man of the people.
Another switch here and there and air starts blowing through the starter valve’s. Add in a little fuel and ignition and you’ve got yourself a functioning gasturbine!
“It’s not bloody rocketscience”, I grumble to myself as I think back to that weird F-14 driver.
Plug in the numbers and the results will be good!
After coercing the local controller to let me take-off with all my extra goodies(customs made a fuss… bugger me with a fishfork…) and we are climbing away, that means PARTY TIMEEEE!
As my trusty crew of scientists settle in into the optimum vodka consumption position I settle myself in the comfy chair and enjoy mount whatever on the left.
The charts tell me it’s called Nevado Del Huila. I like my name better and briefly consider starting a petition for change. Surely my grace and goodness has made word reach far beyond the horizon?
Hmm, Altitude alerter set, INS set, once I hear the chime all I need to do is move throttle levers back with my foot a little. Not a bad way to sleep I’d say! Onwards trusty Metallic Steed of Enjoyment and Inebriation!
EDIT: Vanity shot
BEEP BEEP BEEP WHOOP WHOOP TERRAIN TERRAIN
The sudden onset of GPWS(hah, no E, what do you think this is, a modern compliant aircraft?! Pffffft) sounds and rattles have me lurch forward, knock my head against the overhead, and come to the sudden realisation that my alarm clock really should not be used during the flight.
Oh well, as knock on the head and a knock in the head. There’s a nice symmetry of karma or some other mumbo jumbo in there.
Fortunately the CIVA INS has done a splendid job of navigating us through the Andes, bringing us out on the Pacific side of things. As it turns out, muting all the radio frequencies did me no harm today. Perhaps, one day I will find a vigilante controller that has no patient for my shenanigans, but not today comrades!
I wake up to the beautiful sight of fluffy clouds dotting the high moutains. The aircraft has burned through such an amount of fuel that it feels much lighter and has consequently sped up nicely during the flight. This makes me happy till no end for reasons that can only be explained by a kerosine-fumed up cockpit.
Slightly high on fumes and Vodka I set in the decent along the coast. Overflying the next destination and making a arc over the ocean, shaking up any party-goer in the back that has not opted to strap itself in for Snark’s Wild Adventure Ride™, as ratches and bolts sear through the back(okay I might have left my toolbox unlocked… what gives? STOP JUDGING ME).
A swift deployment of flaps and landing gear with a smashing left hand turn brings me in line with the runway.
knock… thud… OUCH
A few muffled screams later, confirming my suspicion that my breaker bar has indeed left it’s comfy foam covered cradle and has taken up it’s life long dream of flight, and we are heading towards a wonderful landing.
For a wild few moments I balance the whole aluminium contraption on the backwheels before slowly lowering the nose and coercing the ol’ engines into showing some thrust on reverse action and we make the next taxi-way. What is left of my sanity(all those worries about my expensive toolbox…) and my aircraft are taxing to the gate…
Well, just a parking with a view. But what a view?!
The Party Jet is in Peru! The scientist have quickly sough refuge in the nearest triage station. Not to fix up their comrades but to booze up and find a place to sleep for the night, as I’ll be cleaning up this tool-laden aircraft. Because, tool checks are important in keeping your work environment safe, and efficient!
Also, someone with a broken engine might come in and I may not feel obliged to go with a cheap rate for my services! 