The Vagaries And The Oddities
Ah, work.
Yesterday i spent most of my time bubble-wrapping large pieces of airplane. And by "large" i mean to suggest not so much on the order of, say, "Brake Valve" as much as, say, "Wing." Or "Fuselage Half." This was something of a departure from the norm, as normally i am just piecing together small hydraulic-type thingies and trying not to end up with extra parts.
Some time ago, my company acquired (through means uncertain to me) the mortal remains of two aircraft abandoned in the jungle in the middle of the Congo. The theory was that since these planes are actually quite valuable due to strong parts demand, someone would eventually want to buy them, or at least pieces of them. This was proved true on Tuesday, when two Canadians appeared with three tractor-trailers and (presumably) a large check. We warned them there were an awful lot of bullet holes from the guerillas and whatnot, and furthermore, that the one that had been lived in was on the whole a bit smelly, but they didn't even seem to mind.
So i lent a hand in the packing process. Fortunately for all of us, airplanes are made out of aluminum. This means that while the vertical stabilizer of a Twin Otter may be approximately the length and width of a Mazda3, you and a friend could lift it with one hand apiece. If you were so inclined. We wrapped the pieces individually, at least the pieces remaining (i.e., anything that hadn't looked useful to - or, failing that, still able to be pried off and carried away by - the local Congolese). Then we stuffed them inside the fuselages, which were jockeyed by two forklifts onto a flatbed truck.
Admittedly, these two airplanes have had a bit of a journey from their Toronto birthplace. But the indignity of their recent circumstances will soon be corrected. As it looks, the last of their corroded odds and ends ought to be all packed up by tomorrow. May their journey home to the frozen tundra be gentle, and may their revived career be long and fruitful in the service of our Canuckian friends. Of which we are delighted to have several, it should be noted. Say what you want about them Canuckians, but they do build some tough little airplanes.
Yesterday i spent most of my time bubble-wrapping large pieces of airplane. And by "large" i mean to suggest not so much on the order of, say, "Brake Valve" as much as, say, "Wing." Or "Fuselage Half." This was something of a departure from the norm, as normally i am just piecing together small hydraulic-type thingies and trying not to end up with extra parts.
Some time ago, my company acquired (through means uncertain to me) the mortal remains of two aircraft abandoned in the jungle in the middle of the Congo. The theory was that since these planes are actually quite valuable due to strong parts demand, someone would eventually want to buy them, or at least pieces of them. This was proved true on Tuesday, when two Canadians appeared with three tractor-trailers and (presumably) a large check. We warned them there were an awful lot of bullet holes from the guerillas and whatnot, and furthermore, that the one that had been lived in was on the whole a bit smelly, but they didn't even seem to mind.
So i lent a hand in the packing process. Fortunately for all of us, airplanes are made out of aluminum. This means that while the vertical stabilizer of a Twin Otter may be approximately the length and width of a Mazda3, you and a friend could lift it with one hand apiece. If you were so inclined. We wrapped the pieces individually, at least the pieces remaining (i.e., anything that hadn't looked useful to - or, failing that, still able to be pried off and carried away by - the local Congolese). Then we stuffed them inside the fuselages, which were jockeyed by two forklifts onto a flatbed truck.
Admittedly, these two airplanes have had a bit of a journey from their Toronto birthplace. But the indignity of their recent circumstances will soon be corrected. As it looks, the last of their corroded odds and ends ought to be all packed up by tomorrow. May their journey home to the frozen tundra be gentle, and may their revived career be long and fruitful in the service of our Canuckian friends. Of which we are delighted to have several, it should be noted. Say what you want about them Canuckians, but they do build some tough little airplanes.
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