The Gimli Glider

While looking through the aeronautical information that has caught my attention over the last few days, I found a story about an airplane landing every bit as tense and thrilling as the recent splash landing in the Hudson River. This one happened 25 years ago.

One July 23, 1983, a Boeing 767-200 ran out of fuel 41,000 feet over Alberta province. The airplane had taken off with malfunctioning fuel gauges and the flight crew was aware of the problem. As a work around to the broken fuel gauges problem, the ground crew had dipped the tanks, that is, they put a stick in the tanks to visually read the amount of fuel the airplane was carrying. This was an accepted method of determining the amount of fuel onboard, though it required a second step, a calculation.

In the second step the crew was required to calculate the amount of fuel by applying a factor for the specific gravity of the fuel.

The crew did the calculation several times to be sure there was no error. They made the same mistake each time. Because the crew used the wrong conversion factor, the airplane had about half the fuel required to make its Montreal to Ottawa to Edmonton flight. Eight miles high there are few options. You can't watch the signs for the next gas station. Here is the start of what transpired onboard.

The passengers had just finished dinner when a warning light came on in the cockpit. The flight crew thought that they were dealing with a failed fuel pump in one wing tank when a second warning light came on. The crew immediately made plans to divert to Winnipeg as the left engine flamed out.

Pilots Bob Pearson and Maurice Quintal immediately began making preparations for a one engine landing in Winnepeg. Then another fuel light lit up. Two minutes more, just as preparations for the one engine landing were being completed, the warning system issued a sharp "bong" noise, an indication of the complete and total loss of both engines. The pilots said they had never heard the sound before.

The sound is not in the flight simulator.

After the "bong," things got quiet. Quiet at eight miles up isn't generally good. The fuel tanks were empty and both engines had flamed out.

Tomorrow, we'll continue with the story of the big, heavy jet airplane that had suddenly become a glider, a glider that was descending 2,000 feet per minute.

Adam Idol

The other television competitors have abdicated the 7:00 p.m. Tuesday time slot to American Idol. NCIS, The Biggest Loser and According to Jim, those are the shows that you weren't watching, and HBO ran some movies for the eleventeenth time. American Idol has 7 contestants remaining, and last night they were joined by Quentin Tarentino, the most creative loon in film. In the audience this night were Katie Couric and Syl from Sorpranos, who I only learned at last Super Bowl is in Springsteen's band.

Little Allison, the Wendy Hamburger/Charo girl, sang something, I don't know what, and it wasn't great, but she's always entertaining, visually and vocally.

Following Allison was Adam Lambert singing Born to Be Wild. The song was first recorded 40 years ago. It's a musical icon. It's a song that was done about perfectly the first time, in 1968, by Steppenwolf. This guy Lambert absolutely lit the place on fire with it, overdid it, overacted, overscreamed the ending, and still gave a fanstastic performance, leaving everybody smiling. Give Adam the big trophy right now. Nobody else in the 7 is in his league. Allison Wendy Charo will probably finish second, and she won't be anywhere near Adam Lambert. My investment consortium has wagered on him at 3:2, and that is money in the bank.

Matt, the guy from Michigan who wears that goddamned hat all the time, sang Bryan Adams' next. He played nice piano. Matt in the Hat performed like a Bryan Adams tribute act. At this juncture, Matt is there just to keep the others company. I would enjoy him performing in a bar or a Vegas lounge, but he's not gonna be your next American Idol.

Matt isn't leaving 'till Anoop is gone, though. I'm writing this as I watch the show last night, and I've already forgotten that Slumdog sang second. It was pleasant, his performance, whatever it was that he sang, and as I have just proved, it was eminently forgetable. Bye, Snoopy, nice seeing you and enjoy the summer tour, 'cause you're voted of the island tonight, unless Matt the Hat is where it's at.

Chickflick Danny sang next. I think I would like Chickflick Danny if I knew him. Watching him perform, on the other hand, makes my colon hurt.

Chris is performing next. Excuse me, his name is Kris. Kris Allen. Do you think they could kick three or four of these guys off and have Adam Lambert compete against himself? You could vote for Adam One or Adam Two or Three. Kris sucked, the song sucked, and when he contorted his face in a shot at an emotional ending, my colon and I felt a twang of reminiscense for Chickflick Danny. Break time!

Lowes is the big sponsor tonight (along with Ford, all the time Ford). Next comes the Lowes commercial that has millions of flowers marching through the parking lot and down the street. Tell the truth, don't those commercials make you uncomfortable, like it's a scene from an alien movie where the plantlife takes over the world? Quentin Tarrantino could make that movie.

Last singer, Lil Rounds, performing The Rose. Sucked, again. Lil sang the song as screwed up and confused as I have ever heard it sung, throwing out melody in favor of trills and runs, and it was disastrous. She can only sing one style, and it hasn't been happening for weeks. Paula offered some incomprehensible bit of observation, Simon slammed the performance, the audience booed Simon, it was like a little slice of WWF. Lil fought back, arguing that she tarted up the song with R&B and gospel, that she was an artist. All things considered, the performance sucked.

Show's over, just a couple of minutes late. I wish we had got on Lambert before the odds on him went down to +150 ( 3:2 ), but that's a lot better price than today, when he was -235. Chickflick Danny is +280, followed by Allison at +1,000.

I think we should get a price on a match-up between Danny and Allison. Please, Margaret, inform my broker. There is more money to be made on American Idol.

309 AMARG

The cryptic at the top of the posting means the 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group . Immediately after World War II, the Army established a storage facility for B-29 and C-47 aircraft at Davis-Monthan AFB. Today, this facility is 309 AMARG, which has grown to include more than 4,400 aircraft and 13 aerospace vehicles from the Air Force, Navy-Marine Corps, Army, Coast Guard, and several federal agencies including NASA.

With an original purchase price of more than $35 billion, this fleet provides a unique inventory from which military units throughout the world may withdraw parts and aircraft. It's also a flying used car lot for US allies.

The chief reasons for selecting Davis-Monthan as the site for this storage center were Tucson's meager rainfall, low humidity, and alkaline soil. These conditions make it possible to store aircraft indefinitely with a minimum of deterioration and corrosion. In addition, the soil is hard, making it possible to park aircraft in the desert without constructing concrete or steel parking ramps.

In 1964 the Secretary of Defense directed the consolidation of all military aircraft storage and disposition centers into a single entity located at Davis-Monthan. In 1985, the addition of Titan II missiles and the Center's growing capability for restoring aircraft to flying status, prompted a name change to the Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Center or AMARC.

In May, 2007, AMARC aligned under the 309th Maintenance Wing at Hill AFB, Utah and became the 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (309 AMARG). Today the Group provides customer services including restoring aircraft to flying status, maintenance, and parts reclamation, in addition to its historic storage and disposal functions.

Rather than present a list, I've clipped photos of some of the sights at Davis-Monthan. Click on any of the photos to get larger versions. Big, weird, cool stuff, yes?

Just Another Reason...

This story is pirated from the Sun Times News Group. For the record, I was not involved, and reports of a shootout between the Chicago Police Department and the deceased victim are unsubstantiated, though stranger things have happened:

April 13, 2009
FROM STNG WIRE REPORTS
A dead goat was found hanging on a statute of Harry Caray outside Wrigley Field early Monday on the North Side. A similar incident occurred in 2007, police said.
About 2:40 a.m., police responded to a 911 call indicating a dead goat was hanging from a rope on the statue of Harry Caray outside Wrigley Field at the intersection of Clark and Addison streets, according to Town Hall District police.
The goat was hanging on one of Caray’s outstretched arms, according to police, who took the goat down and disposed of the remains. It was not known how the goat died and nothing was damaged, according to police.
There is not a "no trespassing" sign and a surveillance camera located nearby is not set on the statue, according to police, who said a similar incident also occurred in 2007, when a butchered goat was found hanging from the statue. No one was arrested in Monday's incident.

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It had not previously occurred to me...that the goat might have committed suicide.

Seals 3, Pirates 0

Let's say you have no context for the question that I am about to pose. Let's say I just walked up to you and asked you to answer this question.

If you had to choose someone, anyone, who would you really, really not want to mess with?

Just a shot in the dark here, but if you were to randomly select and respond "Navy Seal Sharpshooter" it would not be a surprising respone.

So how do you think the Somali pirate (Come visit Somalia: Government-free since 1991!) who was aboard the USS Bainbridge acting as the negotiator for himself and the three being towed in the lifeboat felt when the U.S. Navy "negotiator" informed him that discussions had ended?

"Excuse me, crapwad, but it is my pleasure to inform you on behalf of the United States Navy that we are now prepared to offer you the opportunity to kiss our asses as we escort you to one of the jails in which you will spend the rest of your miserable existence ."

"No, no, back off, Imperialist pig. My pirate homeys will kill the American hostage if you do not give us two million U.S. dollars, safe passage to beautiful Somalia, and a paid subscription to DirectTV, including premium channels. Pirates watch ESPN when we are not protecting our territorial waters of beautiful Somalia. All of us pirates had our own NCAA pool, too, did you know that, Implerialist pig? The winner of the pool got a French yacht. Now, bring me another Diet Coke, Implerialist pig. You have angered me, so I demand you throw a cold 12 pack of Diet Coke in with the ransom. No! Make it...Mountain Dew ."

"Yeah, chum bucket, about that ransom thing, it's like this: Your homeys have just had their skulls aerated by Navy Seal Sharpshooters, and the guy who was your hostage is just another pissed-off American now."

"So...no DirectTV? No HBO?

"No Mountain Dew?"

Anchors aweigh.