So yesterday morning I lifted off with my poor old Cessna pretty much loaded to Gross--my mom and my nephew, The Spud, came back with me. A couple of nifty Experimental kit planes were gassing up at the departure airport.
Here's a Staudacher S-600F, getting ready to go up. Can you say "Aerobatic"?
And this one is a Sonex kit plane that the pilot told me that he built over seven years.
I got gas, loaded the pax, and departed, flying my usual track eastbound down I-96 and then banking around to the south Detroit Metro's airspace, overflying the Rouge Steel Plant in Dearborn. Let's see if there are any freighters in there today.
Kaye E. Barker. We've seen her before, about two years ago when I caught her out on the Detroit River.
And heading downriver, the poor old Bob-lo boats are still wasting away in Trenton.
And about this time, my windscreen started picking up oil. WTF? Oh, hell--I know what that's from. My engine oil cap worked it's way loose again because the dipstick who checked the dipstick (me) didn't make extra sure that it was completely cranked down again. This old bird has gotten me like this before, and by the time that there's a little oil on the glass, it's a given that the engine compartment, belly and side are thoroughly coated. Fortunately Grosse Ile airport is just ahead, so down I went to tighten the cap, replace lost oil, and clean her up.
Luckily for me, an A&P named Steve Paone was there and he helped me clean her up with a compressor and some mineral spirits and a lot of rag work. In addition to being seriously helpful, he owns a 172 a year older than mine and he offered several bits of advice related to keeping mine running right that were well worth the stop for that if nothing else. The man is definitely an asset at that airport and they're lucky to have him.
Then it was up and off again and out over Lake Erie, heading towards our panned lunch stop destination: Put-in-Bay on South Bass Island.
I figured that we'd land here and have a nice lunch and do a bit of sight-seeing, but I was pleasantly surprised to find the airport jam-packed; they were hosting a fly-in.
We socialized for a bit, then rented a golf cart for a foray into town. We grabbed a few pricey burgers then I turned the cart over to The Spud to take us to the Perry's Victory Monument.
The view from the top: nice.
We finally flew out again, a few hours behind schedule, but hey--who cares? That's the nice thing about doing your own flying.
Since I was flying heavy, I opted to take off with less than full fuel tanks and make a gas stop en route at Beaver Valley Airport (BVI) in Pennsylvania.
Don't look, Ethel!", because he looked straight up into a face-full of 100LL gasoline.
It was really my fault for not making sure that he was safe and clear of the aircraft, but it make for a better lesson to put part of it back on him for not having the common sense that God gave a goose. He's seen this plane fueled enough times that he should have known better too. Oh well...he got a lesson in eye-washing, free of charge.
Then it was off for our last leg. We flew over the northern Pittsburgh area.
And we did a fly-over of the Flight 93 Memorial north of Somerset, PA.
And here's the Spud, learning to tie aircraft knots to secure the plane.