Advocates for Aviation Safety Foundation, Inc.

January 10, 1964, started out as a typical day for the flight test group at Boeing's Wichita plant.  Pilot Chuck Fisher took off in a B-52H with a three-man Boeing crew, flying a low-level profile to obtain structural data.

Over Colorado, cruising 500 feet above the mountainous terrain, the B-52 encountered some turbulence. Fisher climbed to 14,300 feet looking for smoother air. At this point the typical day ended. The bomber flew into clear-air turbulence. It felt as if the plane had been placed in a giant high-speed elevator, shoved up and down, and hit by a heavy blow on its right side.

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In 1994 I got a glimpse of some of the birds at Petropofov. I was guest on a Falcon 50, on way from Anchorage to Seoul. Russia had just begun to allow corporate jets to stop for refueling; no credits cards accepted then, only U.S. dollars, (but that’s a story is for another day).

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Story contributed by Tom Cunningham

My wife and I were planning a trip to Arlington, Virginia, to visit our daughter and her husband over New Year's. We wanted to fly because it is much faster than the 6 hour driving trip, and fighting all the heavy holiday traffic. We normally fly into Manassas, Virginia (HEF) from Geauga County (7G8), which is about 230 miles, and takes about 1 hour and 45 minutes.

This time, I wanted to fly into Baltimore (BWI), and go to the Baltimore FSDO to start the process of getting my PIN Issuance form, so I can fly into College Park (CGS). I can only start the process by going to the Baltimore FSDO and no other FSDO can do the Issuance form for College Park.

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A logbook is like a diary for pilots. It contains a chronicle of some of the highest and lowest points of a pilot’s life in aviation, from the first solo to the last flight, from buying to selling a beloved aircraft. Some write concise entries, while others jot down phrases to help them remember special flights. But to anyone else flipping through the hours of flight time written in shorthand, it can be difficult to understand the life described in those pages.

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Over the more that 30 years of flying my 69' Cessna 310, I have had many people sit in the right seat. Some first timers, some seasoned aviators and, of course, a number of CFI's, but Jean Jacques was my first pre-teen right seat passenger. This story begins in Boston. Some years ago, late one afternoon in August, Jean Jacques and his family were visiting the United States from Switzerland. Nantucket was their final destination. 

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I had many flight instructors over the more than 30 years of flying n5880m, but none who would make a more lasting impression than Henry Lopez, a man I referred to as "The Phantom". This story begins in Bridgeport, CT. The year was 1968. I was a low time pilot with a private ticket. Single engine land privileges. A few hundred hours in my log book. Very limited discretionary funds to spend on aviation. A strong yearning to fly twin engines. Not a clue how I could accomplish it. Then, a once in a lifetime opportunity dropped in my lap. I was invited to participate in a block of twin time. 

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On October 6th, 1992, The Federal Aviation Administration said that "I had been found to be properly qualified to exercise the privileges of an airline transport pilot". I had previously qualified as a private and commercial pilot and held a multi-engine rating. But the ATP, considered by many to be the aviation equivalent of a "PhD", was the most coveted designation of them all. To be an ATP candidate, one must have a valid current first class medical certificate, 75 hours of actual instrument time, 500 cross country hours logged as pilot-in-command, plus 100 logged night hours along with more than 1500 total flight hours. The ATP is primarily designed for pilots who intend to make aviation their career. One has to pass a written and oral exam and a flight test.

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"Hey! What do you mean that's Danny Goodyear; are you telling me that he's flying that airplane? Yep. You got to be kidding me. No. Wow!. 

      It was a spectacular spring day in April of 1957at St. Lawarence University in Canton, New York. I will always remember that day. I was an 18 year old sophomore walking with my friend, Canna, when I noticed the airplane. She told me that Danny Goodyear was flying with her sorority sister. How outrageous was that! I had to see what flying was like. I had to get into a plane. Well, I had won some money playing poker and decided to spend it on flight lessons, The next day I drove to Odgensberg, found an instructor and took an introductory lesson.

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