"yeah, that's easy for you to say, you drive a...

[Bambikiller240]

Originally posted by TKR514

John WAS skilled enough, he made a series of hasty but minor assumptions with a new-to-him aircraft and he paid for it. Derating him as a pilot is not called for. The worst thing out of it seems to be non-pilots using it for jokes or "expertly" pointing out the need for more regulations in training.

The National Transportation Safety Board determined that the probable causes of this accident included the pilot's diversion of attention from the operation of the airplane and his inadvertent application of right rudder that resulted in the loss of airplane control while attempting to manipulate the fuel selector handle. Also, the Board determined that the pilot's inadequate preflight planning and preparation, specifically his failure to refuel the airplane, was causal. The Board determined that the builder's decision to locate the unmarked fuel selector handle in a hard-to-access position, unmarked fuel quantity sight gauges, inadequate transition training by the pilot, and his lack of total experience in this type of airplane were factors in the accident.

If I ever get to Texas, and If you'd actually sit down with me (we'll talk only about Z's, OK?) I'll buy the first round.

Carl

(officially retired from this subject)

[TKR514]

Yep, that's the report.

Causes were:

1) a diverted attention and

2) accidental rudder kick

3) too quick a pre-flight (trusting bad fuel guages).

Basically, things happened fast and it snowballed even faster.

The other factors that contributed were:

1)iBuilder installed the fuel selector in a non-standard location for that type of aircraft(or any aircraft for that matter).

2)Builder installed the fuel selector backwards and did not mark it when installed on the aircraft.

3)Builder had inaccuarate fuel quantity sight gauges.

4) John Denver lack of time (transition) to this aircraft to learn all of it's quirks that were built into it.

The bulders goof-ball shortcut to install the fuel selector in the rear of the plane (not following the plans), then not marking it, and then having almost no way to measure what was actually in the tanks are definite factors that bit the guy that bought it.

No where are John's flying abilities questioned. He was legal and qualified to fly the plane on that day. Only lesson for me was don't trust anything on a used experimental aircraft....

[biker]

Statement: Draw the raw prawn

Definition for rest of world: Just got my imaginary tripple webers tuned for the Z car and someone wants to charge me $3000 - I would be upset - or - dont draw the raw prawn.

Statement: Stone the crows (or with greater expression "Stone the flamin crows")

Definition: Someone just told me that he can get 12 sec quarters out of a stock Z with just putting extra air in the tyres - I would be suprised - or - Stone the crows!!.

Thought a Z slant would assist:classic:

And I am not pulling the other one with the above definitions explanations:tapemouth

[go z racer, go]

thank you for Mad Max

Hey Mates---

I have noticed a small, yet palpable "rift" amongst the Yanks and Aussies. Our culture, our history, are so much a like. I don't get it. We survived "Men at Work", your Crock Hunter survived NYC subways. What's the big deal?

On the subject of your fine continent, Australia, I wish to thank you for giving the world Mad Max (albeit, starring a Yank)...Fosters, KB, "Nine inch Nails" and especially for giving me my childhood idols ; Nat, Peterson, Cheyne Horan, Rabbit Bartholomew, Carrol, Occy, and Mark Richards to name a few. In my youth, surfing once consumed my every waking moment. Surfing was my world and Australian Surfers were Gods.

Once, many years ago, I was enjoying my local break presenting four foot glass A - frames. Yielding great right handers with even better lefts. Bowls, with back breaking thick lips throwing out against a gentle offshore breeze. Four foot waves are ideal for a young punk with an ego and sporting a brand new thruster. The frosting on this cake? I had it all to myself! Well, for the first hour anyway.

Then, this guy paddles out and parks it right next to me. Now, this particular break isn't on the mainstream surfers guide. It demands a better than average skill level and a familiar face. Surfing is very territorial, an ugly by product of over population and carried out by members belonging to traditional surfing sub cultures. So, naturally I analyze this stranger for hints to his origins. However, neither he, his wet-suite, or his board, offer any clues. Although, his board was littered with logos, like a floating billboard in heat. Unusual. We looked at each other without speaking. Neither one of us showing any OUTWARD signs of concern for the other. Who is this guy? More importantly, who does he think he is?

Hell, as a kid I had to fetch lost boards (pre leash), I had to give-up position without hesitation to the Alpha dudes for years. I had to drop in eight foot, south swell, close-out sets, just to get my hair wet. Occasionally handing my beers over to an Alpha and his Beach Bunny at keg parties. Only after paying my dues (correctly) as a youth, was I allowed "in." I know this must sound medieval, but trust me, there are laws to surfing. A pecking order if you will. I never stopped to ask why, because unlike school, here in the water, stupid questions DO exist. Everyone else is surfing further north. This guy took cuts. Today, was okay though, no senior Alphas in sight, and there are plenty of waves, for me. Besides, acting barbaric wasn't really my style, I just wanted to "fit-in."

Then, my Achilles heel surfaced. On the pier located just yards away from where we sat floating a small crowd began to perch on the guard rails. To include a few JR. Lifeguards (my coworkers at the time) they wasted no time and began taunting me like so many Jackals. Peer pressure, it's the youth's equivalent to a silver-bullet. Hey, what are friends for, right?

At first, I was picking off the choice waves (local knowledge) and seemed to have things in hand. On a long paddle back after connecting a set to shore-break, I saw him orchestrating his magic for the first time. He wasn't bad. In fact, he was good, real good. I had work cut out for me and the cackling raining down from above was growing louder. I had to pick it up as it were. So much so that I was actually having one of my best days ever. We were literally trading off, taking turns. Each one now visibly watching the other. The invisible bar never rested, it was being raised with each wave. Shortly thereafter, it became increasingly clear as to who was doing all the raising. I was behind on all the score cards. My lungs could no longer conceal the toll this "cold war" was having on me. Ego, and peer pressure (no pun intended) fueled my determination to keep pace. My silent opponents state? He was fresh as a daisy.

Ah, but just then, I felt a strong onshore gust. Now, normally, for a surfer, if an onshore wind develops, his session is doomed. However, on this particular day, I was thankful. I looked out past the break and noticed white caps. Conditions were getting poorer by the minute. Low tide was an hour away, it was over. I was saved by the bell. Without hesitation, I rode the very next wave to shore. Thank you Big Kahuna!

I stood facing the now horrible conditions of the pacific. No form, no sets, no fun, "victory at sea." A common transformation from glass to ripple when noontime approaches. So, what is he STILL doing bobbing around out there, whale watching?

I watched a while longer. Nothing. Ankle snappers. Then, I notice a decent wave developing. Nothing great. Nothing like the ones I carved to pieces earlier. Likely the last one of the day. Too bad he's not in position. Then, I notice his head snap towards the direction of the wave mentioned, it's the only one. He begins to scratch for it. Again, what is he thinking? He's too far away.

Years later, the following sequence is still as clear as ever. He's accelerating across the choppy surface like a torpedo. Closing distance like nothing I've seen before. Displaying smooth and deliberate strokes, he closes in.

The wave crests, his efforts have positioned him on the right shoulder, this particular break favor lefts, and this wave is no different. The wave peaks, with three quick strokes he leaps unto his feet, it's a late-takeoff by any standard. He handles the near vertical staircase like descent (thanks to the wind) and carves a LEFT turn!

What is he thinking? All that work to establish position, for what? A short right with a workable face is better than bouncing in white-water watching helplessly as a steep left unwinds without you. Evidently, he feels the same.

As he nears completion of his bottom he forcefully pivots onto his forward leg snapping a crisp 180 degrees he explodes straight up, up, up, up, he floats over the cascading white-water. Up, up, until he reaches the top of wave. He then crouches forward as he turns to reenter the wave-from BEHIND! Gravity and forward momentum carries him down the wall of white-water with lighting speed. He unleashes a vicious bottom turn to burst through the waves cascading waterfall, vanishing. Gone, poof, he simply disappeared!

Though he lacked the traditional topcoat and magic wand his emergence out from the liquid tunnel was absolutely magical. Like all good performers he new when to quit and he rode out the balance in check. It's one thing to watch a Champion succeed in his/her respective sport, it's quite another to witness a sport evolve. I had just witnessed the future in my chosen sport, executed to perfection on a less then ideal stage.

I eagerly awaited along the shore to meet this surfer. I enthusiastically acknowledged his innovative skills and confessed my earlier I'll fated attempt for his respect. He introduced himself as Bart, an Australian. He dismissed my apologies as unwarranted, and suggested it was nothing more than two guys putting on a show for the land-lovers "Good fun" he said. We met the next morning at my suggestion, he and his mate asked if I would show them "new breaks." It was no secret that only a handful of privileged outsiders were welcomed there. Fortunately for me, one it's premier locals, "the Bear," was currently dating my older sister (he would later become my first Capt. in the Fire Department). He was my VISA card to liquid paradise (only to lead me later into fiery infernos, life is strange). The dynamic Aussie duo were an instant hit. Upgrading my VISA to gold by association. Not bad for a sixteen year old punk with pimples so large I started naming them.

I felt like someone special around those two. He commanded the earth as effortlessly as he did the ocean. Instead of trying to aggressively fight, shred and demolish the wave he established a relationship with the ocean. He was well aware to the fact that surfing, generally, took place on the face of the wave. He showed us how to have more with what we already had.

As children, most figures we claim as heroes eventually let us down. If by nothing else, they have the audacity to grow old (save for James Dean). To this day I make great effort to incorporate his philosophy whenever possible; it doesn't come easy for me, but then, I'm not a natural.

Approximately two years later, Barton Lynch, the Natural, became a World Surfing Champion.

To make a long story longer, I for one think you Aussies are "good fun."

Cheers Mate!---Jerry

BTW---Did I remember to thank you for Elle McPhearson? What about Rachelle Hunter...hey did I mention Rachelle Ward?

[HS30-H]

Originally posted by go z racer, go

On the subject of your fine continent, Australia, I wish to thank you for giving the world Mad Max (albeit, starring a Yank

I thought Mel Gibson was Australian. Was he actually a Yank all that time? Stone the crows, he had me fooled. Somebody put me straight on that one will you?

I'm not sure about "Drawing the raw prawn" ( I thought that was a reference to showing the one-eyed trouser snake the light of day ) but "Stone the crows" is certainly older than its Australian use. I believe that its London slang ( not rhyming ) or Naval slang, and I feel sure I've seen it used in work by Mayhew or Dickens.

Talking about literature, that was quite a piece by go z racer, go wasn't it? Your talents are wasted, sir.

This thread is like flipping the channels on the TV remote!

Alan T.

[Bambikiller240]

Originally posted by HS30-H

This thread is like flipping the channels on the TV remote!

Alan T.

Yeah, Jerry switched us from "Aviation Weakly", to the "Watersports Channel"! ( careful of jokes on this one Alan! )

[biker]

Go z racer

Bloody hell, I think you need to put a hard cover around that story and flog it off as a book!

It is interesting to reflect on these chance meetings and having the opportunity to take these guys on at their game just adds to make it a great memory. You certainly have to acknowledge the quality of a master at work, doesn't one, little grasshopper.

I remember doing my first year at scrutineering in the 80's at the six hour motorcycle race, Australia's premier annual 2 wheel event.

The first day of practice two young guys walked up in some smick leathers especially imported from Japan by Honda. The main comment of the day was "they will have to try and live up to the reputation that precedes them!". My thoughts were at the time was that Honda must have a bit of faith in them to pay for the leathers that they were wearing.

Later that year I got the chance to ride with one of them. He wasn't that bad and nearly as good as I thought I was - a legend in my own mind.

The names of these two young layabouts with the fancy leathers:

Wayne Gardner - 1 time world motorcycle champion

Mick Doohan - 5 times world motorcycle champion

You can't knock talent!!

PS Myself, I have a soft spot for the "septic tanks" and any ribbing here is "tongue in cheek". You are right in regard to us having similar histories and it dates back before WW2.

Did you know that the first major action seen by the American Army in WW1 was when the americans were placed into the Aussie divisions to partcipate in the battle for Hamel in France. This was the momentous victory and the strategies employed lead to being a blueprint of how to attack fortified lines.

If I have been a little heavy on the slang I apologise but unfortunately you people overseas here more of it than we do here. The slang is a dying culture which would be a real shame. I suppose this is the price of turning this place into such a small world with the technology we have.

PPS HS30 - Mel Gibson is a bloody aussie because he is a bloody good actor. He was only passing through the US. If he was no good, then he would be a yank and they could have him back.

:classic:

Biker

[1 Bravo 6]

ROFL

G'Day Carl.

Here in the Land Down Under a rhyming slang was once in fairly common use. It was referred to as STRINE.

Examples:

A Bag Of Fruit-----------------------------A Suit of clothes.

Hit the frog and toad--------------------Hit The Road.

Septic Tank--------------------------------Yank.

Get the picture????

Unfortunately it is not in use today except by a few diehard stick-in-the-muds like me and, to be honest, I've forgotten most of it. It was a language unto itself.

And as for Mel Gibson, he's only on loan to you lot. He's one of us.

There is ONE thing you blokes could do for me. TAKE BACK THE BLOODY SIMPSONS.

Rick.

[Alfadog]

A certain teacher at my school was brilliant with old sayings (mostly Australian but lots of old British slang too) - he really cracked me up with some of them........

I'd love to have a vocab of little sayings like that, but I guess I was born 40 years to late

btw Jerry, fantastic story, as usual!!! I hope you're keeping these in text files so you can bind them all together one day and make a book of short stories!

[go z racer, go]

MEL GIBSON

Real Name: Mel Columcille Gerard Gibson

Birthday: January 3, 1956

Place of Birth: Peekskill, NY

Education: National Institute of Dramatic Art, Sydney, Australia

He's a bloody Yank!

Say, Biker, Mick Doohan, marvelous talent, a true "peoples Champion." A very skilled and upbeat chap with his ego well grounded. I have thoroughly enjoyed watching his dominance while campaigning the world 500cc GP. Tough as nails too. He shows up each race day to give it his all, regardless of GP point standing or injuries.

I once watched Mick recover from a poor start to finnish third. On most days he finishes first, I know. However, what is remarkable was his effort to gain that third place. It was one of greatest 4 lap exchange for position (in any mototrsport respectively) that I had ever seen. Rarely does a Champion (who, by the way had already snared the title) put all on the line, but this race was in Spain and they love him; he was not prepared to let them down.

Afterwards, in the post race stewards lot, he could barely manage to climb off his bike. He limped off to the award ceremony with a gait of an old man in search of a sofa. Once on stage, he fought off the pain standing tall to acknowledge the cheering Spaniards in mass. What a fighter!

TAKE BACK THE SIMPSONS?...D'OOOOh! 1 Bravo 6, the high quality dialogue found on this American TV Icon week after week are almost Shakespearean like.

Homer quotes:

Marge, where's that metal thing ... you use to ... dig ... food?

Professor, without knowing precisely what the danger is, would you say its time for us to crack each others head's open and eat the goo inside?

Wow, there we go again, now it's cartoon dialogue! What should we discuss next? The "High Master." Biker, your absolutely right about this particular post. It does seem to have "a life all it's own." It's in orbit!

To borrow a phrase from Austin Powers (a Brit no less);..."Why won't you die?"---Jerry

[go z racer, go]

BIKER: here's one of my two wheel graphics

[biker]

Thanks Jerry

Did you create this yourself??? Who is this a picture of??

biker