Of all my late father's flying stories, this is the only one I was directly involved in (unless you count the air show story, where I was in utero).

In the early 50's my father rented a Stinson Voyager to take our family for a few days to Coffeyville, Kansas from Tulsa, Oklahoma where we were living at the time. I must have been about five or six at the time. This is the first time I remember being in an airplane. I remember that it was dark red with brown mohair upholstery and windup windows. I rode in the right seat in front, and my two-year-old brother went in the back with my mother. I couldn't see out very well because I was so short, but I remember being fascinated by all the gauges and particularly with the wind-up handle for the window, which was down at my level. We spent a few days with our friends, and early Sunday morning we got in the airplane to come home. My mother was supposed to teach Sunday school that morning, so we had to get back.

There was a terrible headwind that morning, and it was really rough. My mother recalls looking down at the ground and seeing us almost standing still. We were bouncing all over the place. Since I was so short, I couldn't see out at all, so I was getting greener and greener. It was even worse for my brother in the back. I remember suddenly hearing my mother yell, and turning around in time to see my brother explode all over the mohair and my mother, while she tried to catch it in his cap. This was all the stimulation I needed. I promptly turned around and barfed all over the panel. I also remember that part! My father was too busy fighting the turbulence to make any attempt at cleaning up, and my mother couldn't reach me with her seatbelt on. Eventually we reached the field at Tulsa. The winds were so strong that Dad called the field and had them open up the hangar doors. He then literally flew the plane into the hangar. A couple of men ran out and grabbed the struts the last few feet to help control it, and he shut down only after the plane was safely inside.

After a quick but futile attempt at cleanup, Dad piled everyone in the car and raced to church, where my mother taught her Sunday school lesson with barf all over her dress. Dad then went back to the airport and spent a couple of hours cleaning out the Stinson. Dad said the smell was terrible, and that the plane's owner was very unhappy. Modern vinyl upholstery is sure easier to clean than mohair.

I've always had difficulty with motion sickness if I can't see the horizon but, except for a bout of seasickness on a fishing boat, have never been sick if I can see outside. Perhaps it comes from this early experience. I wonder how I'll do in actual IFR? I'm fine under the hood.

Bob

Copyright Ó 1998 Robert T. Chilcoat

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