Next morning, I wake up at 6:20 and fight every urge to sleep so I can take a shower. I step in and get steamy to wake myself up. Soon, I’m dressed and all ready to go. Just as I put my clothes on, Dash steps into her shower evidenced by the sound of running water. Rosalina wakes up not a few minutes later, and I greet her with a good morning kiss.
Soon, my teeth are brushed and I’m all packed up. Dash apparently is slow to get ready, as we’re waiting a whole 10 minutes before we get ready. A traffic check shows an added five extra minutes either on 15 or 215. Before we get in gear, I ask if she has Fastrak. She doesn’t, since she’s never around roads that use it, so we settle for I-15, braving Ontario rush hour rather than Riverside.
We pass through Norco and Rancho nicely. Somewhere between Base Line and Devore, we hit brakes, eventually merging into a sea of red just after the 215 merger. Mostly due to slow trucks and trouble mergers, I brave the hill and torture the clutch before Dash sees a clearing and decides to thread it. We follow suit, imitating a race. Many a motorist give us angry looks based off my peripheral, but who cares?
Eventually, we reach the top of the hill, where I retake the lead to take the exit. After local roads treat us nicely, we enter airport grounds. Instead of the garage, I park in front of N709AS.
“Come on, Max! You could’ve at least gone for something a little more awesome.”
“She’s old, Yes. She’s a little bit slower, Yes. She’s quite a bit louder, Yes. But she gets the job done.”
“I mean, come on. A 737 Freighter?“
“You got a problem with the 737?”
“Yeah. It’s too small.”
“Says the Hornet Pilot.”
“Look, I enjoy a workhorse like the 737, but give me a wide body once in a while.”
“You should’ve met me before my accident. I was properly fat. 320 tonnes to be exact.”
“What?!”
“I’m serious. 320 tonnes.” I say as I show her an old profile picture. “There’s a reason some of my uniforms are on display. Though one of them is what I was wearing at the time of the accident, so…”
“Okay! Okay! I get it! Let’s just rescue my Porsche before a hurricane comes in.”
Rosalina takes care of the flight plan as we board. Dash gets comfortable as she can in the jumpseat as Rosalina turns on the APU on my mark. Tanks full, I push back and jump aboard, shutting the door and firing up the engines.
Once set, Rosalina turns off the APU and does the taxi list while I taxi to runway 3. Dash is already fast asleep, because I can hear her through my headset. We both look back and share a laugh before Rosalina gets the clearance. After gear and flaps up, we get a crossing restriction for traffic inbound to Apple Valley. In fact, due to it, I shove the throttles as far forward as possible to get max climb.
Thanks to our near weightless payload, we max out at 4500 fpm, reducing it down to 2500 after getting established on course. Eventually, we reach our cruising altitude of FL360, cruise at Mach 0.76.
We touch down a little rougher than usual, as a tricky approach and landing ‘twas windy. When we park, a Tug meets us to our surprise, but I guess they use it for their business jets under tow, so a 737 Freighter shouldn’t be much different.
After I order tanks to full, I head in and request a rental car. No frills, we receive a Hyundai Accent, where Dash upgrades us to a compact, then receiving the keys to a Toyota Corolla. After we load up, we head for the barracks. Dash drives to get past the guard, and once she grabs her Porsche, we head back, where I return the car and join Dash to the ramp. Rosalina needs the bathroom, so she goes while we get the preflight started. After I request a Tug to move it out for the APU, we instead get a ground power unit, where I pay for it and the fuel. Of course, we need it for only a few minutes, but once cargo is secure and we’re all boarded, I time check and decide to call Spitfire.
“Hello? Spitfire speaking.”
“Hi Commander Spitfire, it’s Max. How are you today?”
“I’m doing just fine, thank you. Are you ready for us?”
“I’m just about to leave Pensacola, and we’ll be inbound to El Centro when you want us.”
“Do you mind coming today?”
“No. Let me check something real quick. One second.” I mute the phone before I ask, “Hey, do either of you mind if we go to El Centro now?”
“I don’t.” Rosalina replies.
“I don’t either. It’ll be awesome to see a non-military airplane land over there.”
“Cool. I’ll let her know.” I say before unmuting the phone, “Hello? You still there, Commander?”
“I’m here.”
“We’re all good. We’ll be there in 4 hours. Tail number is N709AS.”
“Sounds good. We’ll get you some fuel.”
“No problem.”
“Thank you so much again.”
“My pleasure.”
The clearance takes us only to the Imperial VOR (IPL), so once we depart, we settle nicely until we start talking to Los Angeles. As it turns out, to clear my PPR as a formality, our descent vectors are from cruising all the way down to 4,000 in the published hold over IPL before slightly backtracking to shoot the RNAV approach so ramp ops can clear a path and space for us.
Assigned the short runway, I land firm, brake hard, and use full reverse thrust for this landing. Having been asleep for nearly the entire flight, Rainbow Dash is very abruptly woken up, hysterically shouting “oh fuck! Ejector seat! Bail out!” and searching frantically for the nonexistent ejector control.
“N709AS, cleared onto runway 26, left F, A, hold short of taxiway B and shut down.”
“Cleared onto 26, two lefts, F, A short of B, and we’ll shut down there, Boeing 709AS.”
Quick work of the flaps and cleanup, Rosalina turns on the APU and turns all our lights off except for taxi and beacon once clear of the runways. I taxi a little faster than normal and hot brakes short of B. Shut down, open door.
“Boeing 709AS, a Tug is on its way to tow you, you can turn off your APU.”
“Roger, Do you have ground power available?”
“We do. We’ll get that to you once you’re towed to parking.”
“Thank you, 709AS out.”
After we shut everything down completely, I grab the handheld and tune ground just in case. I decide to drop the air stair and do a set of stair climbs and descents as a slight workout. When the Tug arrives, I greet the operator and retract the air stair while he mates it. I hold up the handheld and call ground,
“El Centro Ground, N709AS from a handheld. Should we communicate with the tug?”
“No need. Just let him take you where we need you.”
“Roger, thanks.”
After he gets going and tosses us next to Fat Albert, I decide to open the main cargo door just as I descend the air stair with my wife and Rainbow behind me.
As soon as we stand on the ramp, the tug operator comes over to me and interrogates.
“At ease, sir.” He responds after I salute him. “You’re Spitfire’s SA?”
“Affirm, sir. I also have Ms. Rainbow Dash.”
“Got it. Commander Spitfire will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you sir. Thank you for your service.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” He says as he leaves with the tug.
Just then, a group of three angels in flight suits head for us. The middle angel removes her shades and opens her hand for shaking as I simultaneously salute the three of them.
“Welcome to El Centro! At ease.”
“Commander Spitfire?” I ask as I shake her hand.
She nods. “Pleasure to meet you!”
“My wife, Rosalina.” I say before I look over my other shoulder. “You two I assume are already familiar with each other.”
“Wow, Crash. I didn’t imagine you’d downgrade to a 7-3-[7]. No offense.”
“None taken. Even Fat Albert is an upgrade from this old grey mare.”
“Nevertheless, she is perfect for our circumstances. For obvious reasons, I cannot let you transport certain items. Usually, Fat Albert can take everything of ours, but for our operations at your airport, we need a few extra things.”
“Excellent. I have one piece of precious cargo onboard, so we may have to move it around.”
“Okay. Um, does our equipment reach the airplane?”
“It should. We may not have proper airline loading equipment, but we can hydraulically lift most of the stuff into here.”
“If I may, What kind of cargo needs to be on this airplane?”
“Nothing major, just some extra flight suits, medical supplies, Fat Albert’s rockets…”
“Really?” I respond after she takes a long pause.
“Nah. I can’t allow that. Well, maybe, depending on what Fat Albert needs to carry.”
“Do what you need to do, Commander.”
Once fully declared, loadmasters log everything on our airplane and give copies of the manifest to Spitfire and I. The Angels are gonna practice some formations on the way over, leaving the crew of Fat Albert and me to discuss the plan.
I should depart first, so that I’m there when they all arrive. Since I’m all ready to go, and the conditions allow, Dash has to leave us behind for obvious reasons while I clear the airplane and get her started up.
“El Centro Ground, N709AS with Fat Albert, taxi north departure.”
“N709AS, El Centro Ground, there is no IFR Flight Plan on file.”
“N709AS, Affirm. Our flight plan has us off Imperial.”
“N709AS, you wanting to just depart VFR?”
“Affirm. Is the Kane MOA hot?”
“Negative.”
“Then we’ll depart VFR.”
“Roger, runway 8, taxi via A. Wind 350 at 4, altimeter 29.94.”
“29.94, 8 via A, 709AS.”
Flaps 5 for takeoff.
“N709AS, departure frequency 128.6, monitor tower 119.1.”
“Departure 28.6, 19.1, N709AS.”
As I turn right onto A, tower queries, “N709AS, El Centro tower. Runway 8, cleared for takeoff. Upon reaching 3,000, fly heading 330.”
“Cleared for takeoff runway 8, 330 at 3,000, 709AS.”
Lights on, ready to go. Power set, airspeed alive. Gauges in the green.
80 knots.
V1
Rotate.
V2
Positive rate, gear up.
Flaps up.
“N709AS, frequency change approved.”
“Change approved, thanks for the help, N709AS.” “Los Angeles center, Boeing N709AS off Imperial, IFR to Victorville.”
“N709AS, cleared to Victorville airport via as filed, maintain 8,000. Squawk 1520.”
“1520, Boeing 709AS.”
“Boeing 9AS, radar contact 7 miles west of Brawley, 8,000.”
“Position checks, Boeing 9AS.”
“Boeing 9AS, climb and maintain FL200. Turn left heading 320, intercept Victor 137.”
“200, 320, V137, Boeing 709AS.”
“Boeing 709AS, proceed direct APLES, expect VOR/DME runway 17.”
“Direct APLES, 709AS.”
“N709AS, descend at pilot’s discretion, maintain 6,600.”
“Own discretion 6.6, 9AS.”
Rosalina takes care of that for me and runs the numbers in her flight computer. At our present position, if we want to cross APLES at 6.6, then our descent rate should be about 2500 fpm. She sets that, but instead I ask to just go at 2300, which she decides to set. Descent checklist.
“Boeing 709AS, cleared VOR/DME approach runway 17.”
“Cleared VOR/DME 17, Boeing 9AS.”
“Set Vref, in case we get a chop and drop for traffic, please.”
“What’s Vref?”
“At our current weight, uh, 130, includes a buffer.”
“Thank you. Flaps?”
“5, please.” Which she sets.
“Alaska, correction, N709AS, Radar service terminated. Change to advisory approved.”
“Over to advisory, thanks for the help, 709AS.”
“Inside WENOD, established on course, 4,300 please. Flaps 15.”
“4.3, flaps 15.” Just then, the gear warning horn comes on. Once airspeed stabilizes, it shuts off.
“2 miles from FAF, below VLO, lower landing gear.”
As Rosalina lowers the gear, I call, “2 miles from UNCAL, Flaps 25.”
“25 flaps.”
“Before landing check.”
“Landing gear?”
“Down, 3 green.”
“Flaps?”
“Set 30 please.”
“Roger. Speeds?”
“135 knots now that we’re inside the FAF.”
“500 to minimums.”
“Thank you.”
“Before landing checklist complete.”
“Thank you.”
“Minimums.”
“Runway in sight, gear down and locked, flaps 30, speed is good.”
50.
40.
30.
20.
10.
Power idle, ground effect.
Touchdown. Spoilers up, no brakes. 2 in reverse.
“Nose down gently please.”
She grabs the yoke and helps relieve my inputs. When the nose settles, I relax the yoke, stow the reversers, and Rosalina raises the flaps. I then blip to taxi power to retract the speed brakes before we take the next exit.
“After landing check.”
“Flaps?”
“Retract.”
“Spoilers?”
“Retract.”
“Lights?”
“All light except for Beacon and taxi, off.”
“APU?”
“Start.”
“APU generator?”
“Off.”
“APU to run?”
“Stable and lit.”
“Thank you.”
“IFR?”
“We forgot to get a cancellation. I can call flight service.”
“I can call, or would you rather do the checklist.”
“Let’s finish.”
“Squawk?”
“We’ll close then set to 12.”
“Ice protection?”
“Off.”
“After landing complete. Let me call flight service.” “Riverside Radio, N709AS calling Barstow.”
“N709AS, Riverside. Understand on the ground at Victorville?”
“Affirm, cancel IFR at this time.”
“N709AS, IFR cancellation received, Joshua didn’t cancel it for you?”
“If they did, they didn’t say it.”
“Interesting. N709AS, IFR closed.”
“Thanks for the help, 709AS.”
1200, park, shut down, grab tugs to offload cargo.
First things first: Rainbow’s Porsche. Damn it, she forgot to give me her keys. Guess we can’t unload anything until she lands. Oh well.
“Victorville, Blue Angel 7 is solo, inbound to land.”
“Angel 7,” I call scrambling for the handheld, “say position.”
“Angel 7, we’re over Silverwood Lake. What’s the weather?”
“Winds light and variable, altimeter 30.04. Any runway’s fair game.”
“Sounds good.”
A few moments later, Angel 7 overflies the field and declares runway 21.
After Angel 7 touches down, he taxis next to me and parks. Unsure of how base will be set up, I decide to put his airplane under tow so we can give him an idea of where to set up. If they need a terminal, I can accommodate. After I place him on one of the open stands, I ask if he needs anything, and all he responds is “bathroom,” so after I direct him that way, I wait for the others.
As a joke, I head to the tower and boot up ATC equipment, which has been disused since I took over the property. Startup takes about 20 minutes, but once the radar is scanning, I wait for their radar return.
