Friday, May 8, 2020

Taiwan - National Palace Museum, Jadeite Cabbage / Return to the Cockpit

This is what they were looking at, a rock carved into the shape of a cabbage.  And like the Mona Lisa, this is one of the main stars of the museum, and even has a Wikipedia article of its own.

The stone in tomorrow's post is another carved into a food shape...
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[continued from yesterday's post; series started 05/01]
They say that flying and the skills honed in training are a lot like riding a bicycle, and I learned that to be true.  One time during my college years I was driving through Orange and on a lark decided to stop by the airport.  By then the flight school had started using another, new airplane - a Cessna 152 instead of 94G, which was a 150 - and it was parked out in front of the hanger when I pulled up.  I saw someone there I recognized, an older gentleman that, during my days there, had taken taken on flying as an activity to keep himself busy after a stint in jail.  In fact he was the other pilot that took me up to take pictures for the school annual.

So after becoming reacquainted I suggested that we go up for a spin to see if I remembered anything.  I happened to have enough cash on me for a half hour.  He readily agreed and we hopped in, me flying left seat for some touch-and-goes.

I was amazed at how quickly things came back after more than five years.  My instrument scan was there as if instinctual, the pattern turns and altitude management did not have to be re-taught, and by the second time around I was landing it myself.  Very encouraging, but still not enough incentive to take it up again.  I was satisfied that I could still fly an airplane.

One time my daughter asked if, should an airline pilot become disabled and I was called upon to bring it down, could I do it?  After a moment's hesitation I told her yes, but it wasn't because of any skills I'd retained.  It was because the large airliners are easier to fly than small Cessnas because of their automation and rock-steady behavior in windy conditions that so easily buffet those little planes around.  Anyone could do it if not afraid and with a little radio assistance from someone close by.

So this and the flight through the mountains of Colorado as told in this post are the last of my flying experiences as a pilot.  Though I never went on to obtain a full license my childhood dreams came true enough to satisfy any craving I ever had to be a pilot, and without breaking the bank in the process.

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