What was it like?
One Thanksgiving, our son in Atlanta waited too long to get an airline ticket to Texas for the holiday. On the spur of the moment I sent the family in the van from Fort Worth on their way to deep south Texas and launched in the VariEze for Atlanta to get him. The sacrifices you make…
The trip was 4.5 hours. The next morning we took off for the seven hour flight to San Antonio, playing dueling GPSs along the way. Lots of practice re-folding sectionals.
After a couple of days at my folk’s place, another son and I flew further south to my wife’s folks in Kingsville for more turkey. Again I sacrificed, missing the trip in the van.
After a few more days of turkey we set out on the return trip to Atlanta, following the curve of the Gulf of Mexico and enjoying nature and each other, and the turkey sandwiches the family packed for us.
Its always fun to fly into PDK in north Atlanta. On my first trip there I didn’t have a transponder and called the tower the day prior to get some kind of secret handshake permission. They said no problem, give us a call and come on in. I repeated the problem three times and they repeated the solution three times
Each time I have been there they have had a restaurant at the south end with a Mustang and other aircraft parked outside. Midfield there is a playground for the kids, and bleachers with the tower on loudspeaker for the grown kids. Nearby there is a hangar deck hamburger restaurant. And who knows what all else.
The flight home that Thanksgiving is the one that sticks in my mind. With several previous trips to and from Atlanta the path was well worn and known. After reaching cruising altitude and settling in for the trip, I set the GPS and sectionals and other things aside, readily available, and kinda propped my feet up and relaxed and enjoyed the flight.
The manual trim systems work pretty well but tweaking in a gentle nudge of stick or rudder, whether you need it or not, is enjoyable. The distant airports marched predictably into view and disappeared under the canard, sometimes being viewed with interest through the side window, wondering if there were any Ezes hiding in the hangars there.
The Mississippi River astounds as usual. Usually calls for a drop down from altitude to see the sights a little closer.
The approach into Texas was flown as usual with one wing in Arkansas and the other in Louisiana. The southern run around the airport laden Dallas/Fort Worth area is laced with shimmering aircraft, small and large, fast and slow.
I arrive over the airport at about the same time the family is driving up to the house in the van. We are probably all saying our ritual “Home again home again jiggety-jig” at about the same time.
Spartan flying. Even without all the amities. Two mags. No electrical system. Handheld com and GPS. Backpacker foam for upholstery. White primer paint. Normal updraft cooling. The B&T prop that came with the engine...
To your point, even thought spartanly equipped, and maybe because of that, still pretty fun
