Dispatch from KSAF, Santa Fe, New Mexico…three weeks ago: Faces solemn, my mechanics each rest a hand on one of my shoulders. One on my left and one on my right, they gently guide me across the crowded hangar floor, around Race 53, and to the north wall. There — SMACK — they smash my head violently into the wall.
Before I can gasp for breath, they do it again.
And then a third time.
OK. It wasn’t really that dramatic. But the effect was the same.
Yeah, my wrench-turners hosted an intervention over my refusal to accept the reality about the condition of my engine. [Read more…]