A Profusion of Thrills
(continued) We took off and headed out over the lake, with Walt closing in our right side. I've flown in any number of photo mission formations over the years, but the experience and sensation of having another airplane sliding into formation next to me is still ... well, let's just call it attention-getting. Brings a whole new meaning to the concept of trust. And no matter how many times I experience it, it still feels completely strange to see two people in a plane in flight, large as life, just like the cover photo on a magazine ... and realize that I'm actually in the picture, a very real 20 feet away.
On the far side of Lake Winnebago, Ralph and I break away from Walt so I can try a little T-28 flying of my own. I do some turns, surprised that a plane as large as the T-28 can be so light and harmonized on the controls. Then Ralph asks if I want to try an aileron roll.
"I don't do aerobatics," I say. It's true. I never have; never had any desire to.
"Would you like to see what one is like in this plane?" Ralph asks. I can tell from the gentle tone in his question that the option is completely open. He has no need to prove anything or take me somewhere I don't want to go. And somehow, that knowledge makes me more willing to explore. I also know this is something well within his skill envelope.
"Okay," I say.
Ralph calmly talks me through the maneuver. Line up on a road, stabilize, raise the nose 10 degrees, then throw the stick sharply over to the right. As the roll progresses into inverted, push forward just slightly on the stick to keep the nose up, then neutralize the stick and correct for pitch as the airplane rolls level again. The T-28 has enough power to keep it from losing positive G forces as it rolls around, so it's really a pretty smooth maneuver.
"Are you sure you don't want to try one? I'll follow through with you," Ralph says. "I won't let you screw up."
Perhaps it was the realization and knowledge of just how good he was at this. Or realizing what a good instructor he really was. Or feeling comfortable in an airplane specifically built to do this kind of maneuver. Or feeling absolutely no pressure to be a kind of pilot I'm not. But somehow, for the very first time in 22 years of flying, I found myself actually agreeing to attempt an aerobatic maneuver.
The first roll was pretty pathetic. All I can say is, the good news about the T-28 is that it has enough power that, even when you DO dish out of an aileron roll, it recovers amazingly well. But with a little post-maneuver debriefing from Ralph, I then went on to execute a passable aileron roll to the right, complete with the right amount of forward pressure in the inverted position to maintain altitude. And I felt like someone had suddenly given me the key to a cryptic language I'd never understood before. "Ah," a voice in my head sang out. "I get it! That's how they do this kind of thing!"
I quit after the second roll, declined the option of a loop, and still have no great desire to pursue aerobatics any further. But I have to say ... that second roll felt good. It was fun. And I'm stupidly proud of myself for accomplishing even that tiny little toe-in-the-water feat.
A little later that afternoon, I found myself in a 16-ship formation flight of T-28s, flying above a 36-ship formation of CJ-6s and Yaks, converging in the skies over Oshkosh. "HOLY MOLY!!" my shaky, scribbled flight notes read. "There are airplanes in the sky EVERYWHERE!!!!" And I'm here to tell you ... those words don't even begin to do justice to the experience.
As the T-28s did a military-style break over the field and circled around to land, the pilot I was flying with told me to hold onto my hat, because he was going to open the canopy before landing. You sit pretty high in a T-28, so when that bubble canopy slides open, you get a breathtakingly intense encounter with the wind and sky that, even with all the open-cockpit biplane rides I've ever gotten, added yet another entirely new sensation to my logbook.
I've been going to Oshkosh for the EAA convention for over 20 years now. And in many ways, the years begin to blend. The exhibits and exhibitors return, year after year, and sometimes I think I'm the only thing that's changed; the only piece of the picture that's aged or altered with time. And yet, even after all these years, and all the times I've been around the aviation block, I can still go to Oshkosh and find not just one new experience, but a whole cornucopia of new sights, sounds, and moments that expand my world and thrill my senses.
I could have gone to Beale AFB and chased a U-2. Or probably found a couple of T-28 pilots somewhere in California to fly with. But to fly with the lead solo acro pilot in the only T-28 aerobatic airshow team? And fly in formation with 15 other T-28s? Over 36 Yaks and CJ-6s? Or, more to the point, do all of those things in one place, over the span of a mere four days?
Not likely. Not likely, that is, except in the magical place we all create, once a year, out of the cow pastures of central Wisconsin. A place where the best, the brightest, the exceptional and the ordinary all meet for a few short days of sensation overload. And for a week out of time where everyone is welcome, anything is possible, and where ... as with any truly memorable party ... each moment is filled to overflowing with abundance, laughter and distinctive memories that linger long after the music fades, the lights go out, and the guests all find their way home again.
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