A few years ago I was visiting a small airport that sat off the main road alongside the Missouri river. I enjoy small airstrips and the light aircraft that can be found at them. It was Autumn and the day was clear and blue and the air felt cool.
A man and his little boy were standing beside a two-seat ultra-light with a colorful, fabric, triangular wing. The boy looked nervous as his father instructed him to climb into the front seat.
He finished strapping his young son into the forward seat, patted the boy on his small shoulder and positioned himself into the rear seat. The man pulled the starter cable and the small engine roared to life; the ultra-light airplane's frame shuddered. They rolled down the asphalt paved runway, the rear-mounted engine whining and the propeller spinning in an invisible blur as the plane picked up speed and its wing began to provide lift.
The plane had a tricycle landing gear, with two big wheels in the rear and one, smaller, steerable, wheel in the front.
I watched as the ultra-light lifted off and, unexpectedly, one of the large wheels fell off when they were about fifty feet above the ground. The rear wheels were positioned behind the pilot's seat, out of his range of vision. I ran over, picked up the wheel, and began waving it over my head and frantically shouting, "Hey, The wheel fell off." I ran around crazily, shouting and waving and looking around for help. The two in the ultra-light were now about 200 feet up and oblivious to any noise from the ground.
The tiny aircraft ascended a little further and then banked and circled; flying parallel with the runway at three hundred feet. The pilot obviously intended to bring the craft in for a landing. A landing minus a wheel on one side.
I felt helpless as I observed the pilot lining up with the runway for a short final approach. I was unable to do anything to stop the impending disaster. I thought it likely the plane would ground loop when the bare axle dug into the runway. This would cause the plane to flip. The little boy sat in the most vulnerable position. My heart froze.
When the ultra-light glided down, the axle hit the runway and the little plane swung around sharply and came to an abrupt stop.
I had failed to calculate the extremely slow airspeed (around 10 mph) when anticipating the disaster. The father and son were surprised, but otherwise okay.
The culprit: a missing cotter pin, which had probably worked itself loose over time.
It occurred to me later, if this had been a larger, heavier aircraft, the end would had been very different.
Years after this incident, I wrote a mystery novel which involved a similar accident, but with a much more tragic end and the beginning of the story.
In my novel, Murder By Plane, The main character, Reginald, blames himself for the plane crash which killed his fiancee, until he discovers evidence of sabotage and murder.
A man and his little boy were standing beside a two-seat ultra-light with a colorful, fabric, triangular wing. The boy looked nervous as his father instructed him to climb into the front seat.
He finished strapping his young son into the forward seat, patted the boy on his small shoulder and positioned himself into the rear seat. The man pulled the starter cable and the small engine roared to life; the ultra-light airplane's frame shuddered. They rolled down the asphalt paved runway, the rear-mounted engine whining and the propeller spinning in an invisible blur as the plane picked up speed and its wing began to provide lift.
The plane had a tricycle landing gear, with two big wheels in the rear and one, smaller, steerable, wheel in the front.
I watched as the ultra-light lifted off and, unexpectedly, one of the large wheels fell off when they were about fifty feet above the ground. The rear wheels were positioned behind the pilot's seat, out of his range of vision. I ran over, picked up the wheel, and began waving it over my head and frantically shouting, "Hey, The wheel fell off." I ran around crazily, shouting and waving and looking around for help. The two in the ultra-light were now about 200 feet up and oblivious to any noise from the ground.
The tiny aircraft ascended a little further and then banked and circled; flying parallel with the runway at three hundred feet. The pilot obviously intended to bring the craft in for a landing. A landing minus a wheel on one side.
I felt helpless as I observed the pilot lining up with the runway for a short final approach. I was unable to do anything to stop the impending disaster. I thought it likely the plane would ground loop when the bare axle dug into the runway. This would cause the plane to flip. The little boy sat in the most vulnerable position. My heart froze.
When the ultra-light glided down, the axle hit the runway and the little plane swung around sharply and came to an abrupt stop.
I had failed to calculate the extremely slow airspeed (around 10 mph) when anticipating the disaster. The father and son were surprised, but otherwise okay.
The culprit: a missing cotter pin, which had probably worked itself loose over time.
It occurred to me later, if this had been a larger, heavier aircraft, the end would had been very different.
Years after this incident, I wrote a mystery novel which involved a similar accident, but with a much more tragic end and the beginning of the story.
In my novel, Murder By Plane, The main character, Reginald, blames himself for the plane crash which killed his fiancee, until he discovers evidence of sabotage and murder.