Unlike Windy Urtnowski, I do not welcome wild birds into my workshop. Nevertheless, one spent a few days there as I was preparing to leave for the Nats. I eventually apprehended and evicted him the day I left. As I was giving my dog a last buffing, I smelled a familiar smell from my childhood-- my grandparents' chicken coop. I have yet another chore awaiting my return.
Washington is full of geography, a consequence of which is that roads really don't go east from my new house. We left the route up to the car's navigation system, which had us go to Portland and turn left. I stopped at the Bonneville Dam visitor's center for urinary purposes. I had to convince the guard that my airplane was not a drone and that I wouldn't fly it on the premises before she would let us in.
The trip east took 3 1/2 days and was not too eventful. We stopped at a Bosnian restaurant in Twin Falls for lunch and ordered something authentic sounding. It turned out to be a hamburger and some hot dogs without buns. I got to Indianapolis too late to go on to Muncie for practice, but got to the field uncharacteristically early Sunday and flew some stunt. I pretty much kept up the enjoyable routine of flying mornings and evenings with mush and naps between.
As I expected, Chris Cox's Hellcat got 20 points in appearance judging and won a very nice Concours trophy.
To my surprise I was invited to fly on Saturday. I went out to practice with the West Coast Varsity Friday evening and got some good coaching to keep me from flying too embarrassingly the next day. Dave Fitzgerald at one point called my overhead eights "acceptable", which is the nicest thing anybody has ever said about my overhead eights. I knew I was on the right track. One interesting thing happening at this session was that David was coaching Paul. That's the sort of thing that makes those guys hard to beat.
The finals Saturday was fun. My first flight was in perfect conditions, but my maneuvers had imperfections. It was, however, the first time my wife thought I flew pretty well. "Very substandard" is her usual critique. As Chris was about to fly, the wind switched from south to north. I suspected it was temporary, but he correctly decided it wasn't, and moved the judges to the other side of the circle. I thought my second flight was pretty crummy. Wind on my third flight blew just to the left of the sun, which gave a handy reference for maneuver height and intersections. It was my best flight of the day.
The finals had the feel of friends going out to fly some stunt. Everybody (except maybe me) helped the others. When Derek forgot his hand signal, Dave, who was launching Derek's plane, killed his engine so he could restart. Dave prevailed with some really good flying. He flew the airplane with which he won the world championship ten years ago this month.
Sam Londke, the Junior champ, is cool. He beat George Cleveland in combat this week. He hit the ground during the Walker Cup flyoff and seemed to really enjoy the experience. He told me enthusiastically about the crash. In other kid news, Liam Barry asked me for a quarter to make a phone call on the pay phone in the pavilion. I don't know whom he called.
After the ceremonies I performed my usual post-Nats duty of fixing things at my sister's house in Indianapolis. A little Jive Combat Team home maintenance tip: If you tighten the nuts holding down a toilet and hear a cracking sound, grab some towels, because all the water in the toilet will leak out onto the bathroom floor. When I left her house Sunday, her internet and TV cable system had recovered the functionality it had when I started working on it Saturday. I left her clothes washer disassembled to give the repairman a head start.
We are now in Coralville, Iowa, where we dined this evening at the cryogenic Steak & Shake. Tomorrow we shall confront South Dakota, Land of Billboards.