Save the Best for Last!

I know some of you may be tired of reading about airplanes; there is always one more airplane story to tell when you write about Tyre Denney.  This one may be the best of all; it is certainly the best DC-3 story and I had almost forgotten about it.  He wrote about this encounter many years ago in his weekly newpaper article:

I grew up near the Atlanta airport and I can still remember the sights and sounds of a Douglas DC-3 as its engines came to life and it took off into the sky.  The pilot would set the throttle for about 1200 rpms, the mixture control to "full rich", give it two shots of primer, and engage the starter.  After three blades had passed by, the ignition switch would be turned to "on" and, if everything went well, the engine would start.  The first three or four cylinders that fired would burn the excess oil and gas from the exhaust collector ring with a fearsome display of fire and smoke and noise.  Then, as the others began to fire, over 1,000 horses would settle down to a deep-throated roar, waiting for their counterparts on the other wing to come to life.  After that, it would take but a few minutes to taxi out to the active runway, usually 27 right, get tower clearance, set full flaps, push throttles and mixture controls to the firewall and release the brakes.  Then the beautiful bird would slowly gain speed and, leaving the awkwardness of its time on earth, climb majestically and gracefully into its natural habitat, the sky.

I saw one again last week.  Actually I heard it before I saw it.  It was a cool, crisp morning and my first thought was that I was hearing a big truck but the sound was coming from the wrong direction.  Then, as it got a little louder, I recognized the unmistakable sound of two Wright R 1830 aircraft engines spinning a pair of Hamilton-Standard propellers and a DC-3 began to take shape in the northwestern sky.  I just stood and watched.  The sun bouncing off the polished aluminum made my eyes water but I wouldn't look away for anything; a speck of history was cruising by at 130 knots. 

Nearly as old as I am, the airplane must have been at about 3,000 feet and on a heading of around 110 degrees going to who-knows-where in the southeast.  In less time than it takes to tell it, it was gone from sight.  The birds twittering in the trees soon drowned out the last faint sound of the engines my straining ears tried to pick up.  After a minute or so, I began to think about me.  I, too, am earthbound, awkward, often out of place; a misfit in a foreign land, a wandering pilgrim, a sojourner.  But I have the lively hope and blessed assurance that one day, as a child of the King, I will slip the bonds of earth and fly away home to heaven, my spiritual habitat.  Powered, not by a pair of Wright 1830s, but rather by God himself.

And he did just that.  And now you know the best DC-3 story that Tyre Denney ever told and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

One More Airplane Story

There is at least one more story to tell about Tyre and the DC-3 airplane.  I was expecting someone to point out that the picture below was not of Dad standing next to a DC-3.  Some of you may know that the plane in that picture belongs to Ken Jordan.  I'm very glad to say that Ken reports his Champ is very close to flying again after he has spent many months putting it back together from that "hard landing" a few years ago.

Dad wrote about one of his encounters with a Douglas DC-3 in a newspaper article in July 1994.  I will continue to look for a picture of Dad with a DC-3 but below is his recollection of that encounter:

This past Saturday, two sons-Jim and Jeff, and four grandsons-Ty, Daniel, Jared and Jordan, and I went to the International Air Show in Dayton, Ohio.  As we walked through the front gate, sitting there in all her glory, was a restored Piedmont Airlines DC-3.  I was over, under, and all around it and would have gone in it but the "air stair door" was roped off and a big fellow was standing in front of it.  But all was not lost.  On our way to where the Air Force planes were parked, Jeff spotted another one.  This one had been restored by some Continental employees who were a more congenial lot.  In fact, after I had invested $2 in a tie tac they were selling and walked over to look at the Boeing 727, Ty came running to find me.  "Daddy D!  Daddy D!  Come over here!  There's a man who wants to meet you!"  When we got back to the Continental 3, Jim explained that Ty, wanting to get a closer look, had said to one of the men, "My grand-daddy used to work on these airplanes, too."  That's all it took.  Blood is thicker than water and engine oil is thicker than that.  After Jim introduced us, I was treated like a long lost cousin.  In less time than it takes to tell it, I was through the door, up the sloping passenger compartment, and standing in the cockpit touching the controls, smelling the smells, seeing the sights, reliving those days of long ago.  And expecting the engine to go to turning over just any second.  In a little bit, I fumbled my way back down the aisle, and as I stepped down the air stair door, my new friend asked, "Did it bring back memories?"  "Memories?  Friend, this'll bring tears to your eyes."  And it did.

And, it still does today.  Some of my fondest memories of Tyre are when airplanes were involved.  Whether we were looking at them on the ground or watching them fly at an airshow in Ohio or Nebraska or Mather Air Force Base in California; or flying a Cessna or Piper to Bowman Field in Louisville for lunch; or flying across eastern Kentucky and then deciding to fly on over to an airport in Virginia for lunch just because we could, my Dad and I shared a passion for airplanes and shared passions between father and son are to be cherished for a lifetime.  And, I will.