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From Dave, a very lucky man:

(Click here to go straight to the pictures...)

Over the past few years I've read posts by others about their experiences in vintage aircraft and now it's my turn to share.

My story begins last Thursday, March 2, 2006.   I was doing laundry and heard the unmistakable sound of four big radials approaching.  I was out the back door in a flash shouting for my wife to come see, hurry...  Maggie the dog joined in the excitement, thinking no doubt I'd spotted the biggest squirrel ever.

There overhead, rumbling sedately along at about 1000' was a gorgeous B-17!

I live near McCollum field N. of Atlanta and thought the Collins guys were in town. A quick google and a couple of phone calls and I learned it was the Liberty Belle (http://www.libertyfoundation.org) and they'd be offering rides Saturday and Sunday with free tours inside her in the late afternoon after the flights.

My father-in-law shares my love for all things aviation, especially the vintage heavies, so I called him to let him know what was up (literally). He's a vet, getting up in years, diabetic, and not able to get around very easily.  I figured it would be a fun thing for his daughter, he and I to visit and see the plane, even if he couldn't go through it.  We planned to go on Sunday afternoon, and Fri. and Sat. via email I joked with him about taking a flight, knowing he'd never go for it at $395 a pop. No way, never, nada.

Sunday morning he wasn't feeling well, and said he probably couldn't go, so Wife and I drove down to McCollum and saw Liberty Belle; took photos, talked to some people, watched as those big ol' Wrights fired up, watched with envy as those rich folk crawled up into the hatch for a ride, and watched (from the wrong side of the fence) as that beauty took off.  Wow!

Well, that was fun, and off we went for lunch, and a hike at our favorite State Park. http://gastateparks.org/info/redtop/ Shameless plug; I'm a volunteer there.

We decided late afternoon to give F-I-L (Father In Law) a call and try to talk him in to going to see LB...it would be good for him to get out on a beautiful day to see a B-17. To our surprise, he said yes, and we went to pick him up. WELL. On our way from his house to the airport (5 min drive) he says "Thanks for talking me into going, and thanks for talking me into taking a ride."  Insert here sound of jaws dropping. He'd gotten an insurance check in the mail that day, and wanted to use it to take us all up. !!!Holy Cow!!! Wife and I were speechless, and my pulse was way up, lemee tell ya.

So it's like 4:30, and the ground tours were scheduled for 5 ish...were there seats available??? Hurry!! I dropped them off at the gate, and went to park. Excitement! Anxiety! Were we to come so close to the ride of a lifetime only to miss it by 3 seats or a few minutes? They were at the sign-in table, and I got there in time to hear "Oh, THREE seats? Great, that fills our last flight!"

Holy. Cow. Never. No way. Nada.

We had an hour and a half of giggly anticipation because they were behind schedule, but our turn was finally up. Our group was given an informal briefing, with some history of the bird, questions and answers, introductions, small talk, etc...all on "The Right Side of The Fence". Liberty Belle taxied in, her wingtip sweeping over us in a tight left turn as the pilot gunned the outboards. A blast of propwash; a great overpowering roar; the smell of internal combustion. She came to a stop with her stabilizer literally within my reach, so I did.  I rested my hand lightly on the cold, curved aluminum and felt the tremble of 4800 horses drop to idle.

I knew FIL would have trouble boarding. He's big, heavy, and has some difficulty getting into and out of a car. We let the others go first, then I leaned to his ear and yelled "You're gonna get up those steps and into that plane even if you have to crawl". And that's exactly how it went. (He's now bruised, scraped, and sore, but he doesn't care one bit). Thank goodness for the 3 seats right by the hatch, with the waist gunner window directly across. That's where he rode. We buckled in as we taxied, and gave the "thumbs up" to the crew. The taxi took a while; our ride had begun! Earplugs were handed out and I stuffed mine in my pocket. Rumbling, engines throttling up and down and brake linings singing notes as we maneuvered down the taxiway. A right turn and we were perpendicular to the runway, the engines running up a bit. I scanned out the waist window for approaching traffic wondering if we'd make a turning running start. No traffic. The engines changed pitch and the inboard brake sang us around the last turn. A pause. I took my pulse, my wife grinned at me. I held my camera out and took a self portrait of the 3 of us there at the brink. Wait....wait......

Here it is. 36 cylinders rose quickly and ever so smoothly to a synchronized roar. The myriad and random squeaks, rattles and vibrations merged into a finely tuned symphony; a deep silky howl of one note. There was a jolt as the tail leapt upwards on the propwash, and Liberty seemed to gather herself. She was *alive*. A moment passed, then a slight lurch as the brakes were released. Acceleration. Power. My fist clenched and rose as the tail came up; I can play conductor in the most powerful score ever!

Go baby, GO!

I laughed; I may have even shouted in exuberance, but no one would have heard. We rose quickly on those broad wings, and it seems less than 30 seconds after liftoff came the double thumbs-up from the crew. Unbuckle, and have fun. For the next half-hour, this is our playground at 2000 feet. Just don't grab those cables running overhead...

I helped my FIL to a position where he could see out the waist window...Man, he was really digging this! The sun was minutes from setting, and as we headed north up 41 his view was perfect. Several times during the flight I noticed him Conducting the Symphony, too. Our route took us north to Lake Allatoona, where we turned east and flew the length of the lake. There was absolutely no turbulence, and the aircraft conveyed a feeling of stability and security. I reached my arm as far as I could out the opening in the top behind the turret, and felt the windblast there. One's arm out a car window at 75 MPH ain't nothin! I sashayed the catwalk, and went up into the cockpit. Wow, is this really happening? Fella taps me on the shoulder and motions for me to give him my camera (you really don't talk in a B-17, you have to yell) and he snaps a shot of me there. (I look like a deranged hijacker. "Fly me anywhere you want, just don't land yet")

Turns out this guy was a co-pilot on a B-17 way back when; what an honor to share the flight with him. Someone sticks his head up at my feet and shouts "seen the nose yet?" grins and jerks his thumb thataway. I crawl in, all alone, and sit in the bombardiers seat. The whole blue-green-purple world coming at me in slow motion with the horizon cocked at a surreal angle. It's just too amazing to be there. Not for the first time, I reflect on what this machine was made for, and how the men who perched in the same sort of seat I was in were awestruck by the same beauty. And I try to imagine what it was like not playing here, but working. The most serious, deadly work imaginable; the Work of War. I try to imagine the fear and anxiety, and the Dedication of Men who put all that aside when the time came for the task at hand...

I snap a couple of photos, and my Wife crawls in. We stand and share the view and the moment, and exchange a quick kiss. Not quite the Mile High Club, but it's plenty close enough. Pretty soon, I'm out of camera flash card space, and watch the scenery pass below. I'm very familiar with the region, and easily pick out places I know from 6K' AGL. We are nearing the airport, I go back and sit with my FIL. A minute later a crewmember tells me we are going to do a low pass over the runway, turn, and land. Now, we've already been in the air longer than the normal 30 minute flight. This may be because of the aforementioned Vet aboard, along with the fact it's the last flight of the last day of the first stop on Liberty Belle's tour. Who knows.

We drop down low, and roar down the runway, probably 100-200 up. Man o man o man o MAN! Pulling up hard, a sweeping left turn past Kennesaw Mountain and a descending left turn into final. We're buckled in, and I spot a crewmember looking back at us from the cockpit. I give him the double thumbs-up and he returns in kind. The engines are throttled back and I watch landmarks go by as I judge how far the runway is. Lower...Lower... There's that warehouse, we're level with the roof...here's the runway...

I felt a very slight jolt, then nothing. I thought, "Wow, he certainly grea..." SKROUWLT! LurCH!!! Well, OK. That's more believable. The tail comes down, and there's a heckuva clatter as if the tailwheel is flopping back and forth. I can feel the brakes pulsing as we slow down. Without the engine roar and smooth vibration of takeoff, landing is noisy in it's own way. A crewmember comes back as we taxi, and we preplan our exit. We let everyone else off, and with the help of the crew and a couple of line guys, FIL makes it back to terra firma in style. It's dusk, and the front hatch is opened so the public can walk through. There's only about 75 or so folks, surprisingly. I'm feel like John Young after STS-1...I'm all pumped up, walking around the plane...feeling the hot brakes, manifold heat, ETC and ETC. What an awesome machine!

Things I'd do if ever I fly one again: Mentally pre-plan the things to do/see better. I missed the top turret. Completely forgot it was there. Fresh charged batteries and film/card space for the camera. Take a moment to find a clear spot in the plexi to shoot through. Don't let the need to photograph detract from the experience itself.

I'd like to thank: The crew and members of The Liberty Belle Foundation. Very professional and FUN. Thanks.

This group, RAP. (Rec.Aviation.Piloting) I've learned a lot here, and I enjoyed the flight more because of it.  Part of the Sunday's thrill is being able to post it here for you guys. Thanks.

My Father in Law. Thanks for buying yourself a ride, mostly. You deserve it. That C and I got to ride too is icing on the cake, and even though I paid nothing, it was, as they say, "worth every penny." Thanks

The Men that actually flew these planes in war. THANKS

Dave

MMDCL@Bellsouth.net

Pix from the flight: