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JFR Notes - Scott
Farms, airplanes, and more
Scott's story - July 1988
Some of my fondest memories were on the farm and especially working with Dad. However, I wondered how useful I was on some occasions. Every Spring the ditches had to be re-ditched with the ditcher. The ditcher hooked onto the back of the tractor and was pulled down the ditch cleaning it out while at the same time the silt on the bottom of the ditch was thrown up and made part of the bank. For the ditcher to do its job properly there had to be a weight on it to push it down into the dirt.I was always selected to be that weight (even as scrawny and thin as I was then). I had to ride back on the thin cross bar that bruised my rear end every time the ditcher hit a rock. If Dad wanted to have the job done better, he would have wired some rocks to that cross bar and they would have ridden much better than I, yet I think Dad wanted to have some time with me so he asked me to ride that bar.
Scott's story - November 1996
My first and second Airplane Rides.The First: Dad had a pilot's license and I think that he had obtained it while we lived in North Carolina. My memory of that period of my life is sketchy, but I do remember Dad, Dick, and I going out to the airport and dad took us up for a ride. It was a two seat in tandem aircraft. Dick and I were squished into the back seat. (I was a lot smaller then.) Being quite young, I could not see well over Dad's shoulder and what I did see was an instrument panel, but there was no steering wheel. This gave me grave concern. I did not understand how Dad could steer the airplane!
We taxied out to take off. I remember it being warm and Dick took up most of the space in the back seat. When we lifted off, I noticed with alarm how small the cars and houses looked. I later learned that the secret to flying an airplane is to pull back on the stick to see the houses and people get smaller, and you push on the stick to see them get larger. This new environment was terrifying to me and I think that through most of the ride I was crying, so I don't think Dad stayed aloft very long because of me.
I think most of my terror was from not knowing how the airplane was controlled because I could not see the steering wheel.
The Second: I remember taking my second airplane ride in Rupert. I think this was around 1965. A neighbor who lived south of us, his name was Br. Redicop, had a Cessna 180 and he flew Dad and I to Mountain Home. I think that was our destination. Mother may remember more of the details than I.
This time my frame of mind was completely different. I enjoyed every minute of this adventure and fell in love with flying. I am sure I was a pain with all the questions I asked, but it had a profound effect on me when it came to flying. There was no fear and only curiosity as to the how, what, and why of flying.
Since that time I have logged thousands of hours in many types of aircraft. It is always a satisfying feeling to control a complex piece of equipment and have it do what you want it to. I have been involved in cutting edge technology with aircraft systems and electronics. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to be part of this. It doesn't make me special to be a pilot. Every job is important in its own way. However, flying over the farm land and watching the tractors going up and down the fields, watching the other people working down there, and to then think that they pay me to fly this thing?
Scott Johnson