The Planning Stages
Entries from my journal before the journey~
October 15, 1987, 4 p.m. Sitting in my car, at Bob White Field in Zellwood, Florida, watching a Stearman doing touch and go's.
Last week I told my idea about doing a barnstorming aerial hitchhike to Denver Kimpel, a friend of mine, who is doing restoration work on a 1929 Waco in the main hangar, at Bob White Field. In addition to telling me that I'm nuts and am going to get myself killed, he liked my idea about writing a book about it—that is, about the adventure—not the getting killed part. I’m not sure how to go about writing a book though, but I’ll figure that out later. For now, I'll just try to keep up this journal I've started and put my thoughts on paper when the inspiration hits me.
October 17, 1987, 8 a.m. Sitting in a lawn chair, out front of my motor home, watching the crop duster on the other side of the hill.
Yesterday afternoon, I sent in an ad to Trade-A-Plane, asking for rides in aeroplanes through all the 48 states. I placed it under the Personals, figuring everybody reads that because it's the most interesting section in the thick, yellow newspaper.
November 10, 1987, 2 p.m. In my motor home.
Today, the first response to my ad came—a postcard from a man named Earl Caudell, who writes "Great idea!" and that he'll give me a ride in his 1956 Cessna Birddog. The postmark is from Pensacola, Florida. I'm on my way.
November 15, 1987, 3:30 p.m. At Ronnie's sign shop in Plymouth, Florida, working on a design for a sandblasted window of a trolley car.
It recently occurred to me that I should set a few definite rules for my plan. A couple of the letters I received this week, have been from good folks offering rides in fairly new airplanes—a 1981 Cessna 172 and a 1985 Lear Jet. I'm lucky to get their offers and would like to accept them, but it seems to me that going Barnstormer-style in modern hardware would be a contradiction. I need to come up with some rules for myself in order to make it a real challenge so I can get as many interesting old aeroplanes in my logbook as possible.
November 17, 1987, 3:30 a.m. My best ideas usually wake me up out of a deep sleep. The Rules for my Journey – here they are:
1. Each leg of the journey must be made in a vintage aircraft, being at least twenty-five years old. No modern aircraft, cars, taxis, busses, trains, bicycles, or roller skates can take me to the next airfield along the journey. I will stay stranded at an airfield until I find a pilot to come get me with a qualifying "vintage" aeroplane. I can ride in cars and other forms of transportation, including modern aircraft, but, only for local rides and side trips to the journey.
2. I must land (and plant my feet) in each of the 48 contiguous states and...
3. Fly with at least one different plane and pilot from each state.
4. I must not die during the journey.
Thanksgiving Day, 1987, 10 a.m. In my motor home.
Going over to Bill & Pam's house (my brother and sister-in-law’s) in a little while, for Thanksgiving Dinner. I've been up since three in the morning, writing letters to all of the chapter presidents of the Antique Airplane Association, telling them of my goals and asking them to pass my letter along to any of their members who have aeroplanes at least 25 years old. Total count 47 letters outgoing. More mail than I've ever written and sent at one time, in my life. I believe that there are enough good people out there with old aeroplanes who’d be interested to be a part of an adventure like this and help make it happen. It really can happen! This crazy dream just might come true.
December 21, 1987, 3 p.m. Bundled up in my cold motor home.
Even though this is central Florida, it still gets cold here in winter. Outside, it's overcast and a damp 48 degrees. In here, the heater is set to 450 degrees - that being the propane-powered oven on the broiler setting with it's door open. Although it gets the top half of the air in here warm, from about waist level and below, it stays plenty chilly. It's odd, but there's a very definite atmospheric boundary layer in my little house on wheels. Every now and then, I get up and fan the air around with a newspaper, but within ten minutes, it separates back into two layers of warm and cold.
The responses to my ad in Trade-A-Plane have been coming in steadily, about three or four a week and all positive. It's fun getting to know people by mail. They all seem willing to help out and just as excited about the idea as I am. It's a good thing that I'm getting some responses from the ad, because I've been pretty discouraged about the lack of interest from all those letters I sent out to the forty-seven AAA chapter presidents. Not one of them has written me back - boo hiss. Well maybe they're all just too busy organizing their Christmas meetings. Oh, well.
Two days 'til I fly home to Mom and Dad's for Christmas. Haven't told them about my big plans yet. I'll wait to tell them in person, so I can make sure they are sitting down.
December 26, 1987, 8 p.m. In my old bedroom at my parent’s home in Fairview Park, Ohio.
Well, I told Mom and Dad today. Then I showed them all the neat letters that have come in so far from my Trade-A-Plane ad. They took it all right. No heart attacks. Guess they've been well-prepared by my shocking them with a new wild idea, once every few months, since about age eleven. Actually, Mom sounds pretty excited about the whole idea. Dad seems somewhat skeptical, but that's how dads are supposed to react to their daughter’s wacky ideas. After I told them all about my plans he said, “Just don’t take the same map that Amelia Earhart did!”
January 15, 1988, 8:15 a.m. Back down in Florida, on my way from the post office in Zellwood, Florida to Ronnie's shop to help out with some sign work.
At last I heard a response (though an indirect one) from all those letters I wrote on Thanksgiving. None of the AAA chapter presidents ever wrote me back to tell me I had a good idea or even a stupid one.
But this morning, in my post office box, I found a big, beautiful hand-colored envelope with airplanes and clouds all over the front of it. Inside the package was a terrific 20-page grassroots newspaper, called the
SPORTSMAN'S AVIATION BOOSTER, accompanied by a long, friendly, letter from its editor and publisher, A. Lee Spencer in Iola, Kansas. The letter looked as if it had been typed on a 1909 Underwood that was last cleaned during the Armistice. Mr. Spencer wrote that at their January meeting, the chapter president, Charles Chauncy from Chanute, Kansas handed him the letter I sent.
Mr. Spencer says he thinks my idea's a winner and that he'd like to do articles about it, and follow me through the completion of my goals. He said he could also help out with names and addresses of people who might agree to give me a ride or might offer a place to stay overnight in my travels. He says he's 76 years old and has had a life-long love of aviation. He sounds really nice. I didn't think that newspaper publishers ever wrote anything but editorials.
February 6, 1988, 6 p.m. In my motor home.
I started a master list by state of all of the names of people who are offering a ride or hospitality and I have a map of the USA with pins in it, showing where they are. I now see that I've still got a lot of work ahead in order to make this thing happen. There are a lot of states that don't have any pins in yet.
February 10, 1988, 3:20 a.m. In my motor home.
Since the idea to barnstorm hitchhike came to me a few months ago, I have been eating, drinking, breathing and sleeping my dream. I wake up in the middle of most nights, just like tonight, unable to sleep, full of excitement and ideas to add to my barnstorming plans.
Lately, I've gotten in the habit of getting up early, most mornings while it’s still dark, and going to the little diner in Zellwood, where I can get a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, toast and eggs. The owners don’t seem to mind if I take my time eating for an hour or so, while I write reply letters to the people who have responded to my ad. My favorite spot to sit is in the big cushy booth seat next to the old iron radiator.
A number of favorable replies are also coming from the names Lee Spencer sent me. Lee is turning out to be quite a friend. It seems he writes me every third day, with encouragement, ideas and names to add to my list. He is also helping by writing personally to many of his subscribers, telling them about my plans. Where does he find the time and energy?