Our day went sideways, my husband commented as we walked across the parking lot to our car. It often does when you’re married to a curious reporter.
Just a few hours before, I had been at Windmont Park covering the annual fishing rodeo. Somewhere around 9 am, I received a text from one of the managers of the Kewanee Municipal Airport asking if I could come out and cover the Young Eagle flights that were taking place until noon. I assured her I could, finished up what I was doing and headed to the airport a little before 10:30 a.m. My husband came along for the ride.
The airport was quiet when we arrived. There wasn’t a kid in sight, although I saw a small aircraft taxiing towards a runway. I was hopeful I could catch a young pilot upon return. Two men were chatting in front of a small bright yellow and white plane.
“Where are the kids?” I asked.
Sadly, the flights had just wrapped up, they told me. I inquired if they were pilots, and one man said he was indeed a pilot and the owner of the aforementioned yellow and white plane. He had taken two young kids up on flights that day and some parents. In total, 12 kids got rides with seven pilots who had flown in from around the area to volunteer.
I explained who I was and that I had been asked to cover the event, and I joked that I would like a free airplane ride. The pilot immediately offered to take me up.
“I can show you the same route I took the young eagles on today,” he said.
So being curious, I set my purse down on the surface of the parking lot for my husband to retrieve, followed his wife’s instructions and climbed aboard.
Mary Carr assisted me. She and her husband are from Geneseo. They flew into Kewanee to participate and she was there that day, providing help to the young eagles who dared to brave the sky. She assisted me in securing a five-point harness; told me where to place my feet and how to avoid getting whacked by the control stick before helping me to put on a set of headphones that I would use to talk with my pilot and her husband, Dion Carr.
The plane that I found myself seated in was an Aeronca Champ, made in 1946. I tried not to think about how many years it had on it and put on a brave face.
Dion climbed into the seat directly in front of me and held the door slightly ajar. It was hot that day and he told me he would keep it open until we were ready to take off to allow some air to get in and then said something that made me rethink my impulsiveness.
“Don’t be alarmed if the door comes open in mid flight,” he said.
It’s apparently happened before. He once flew with it open on purpose just to get some air movement in the plane. He intended to close it, he assured me, but it didn’t always stay closed. I had at least been warned.
He gave me a run down on the rudder pedals and the control stick and told me to place my feet on the rudder pedals. I pushed on them with my feet to get the feel. At some point, he would turn the controls over to me, he explained, and I needed to know how to do it, and while I didn’t know flying the plane was part of the deal, I was strapped into a multi-point harness and there was very little I could do about it now.
Dion put on his headphones, turned on the mic so we could communicate , shut the door and when Mary cranked the propeller, the plane sputtered to life. We began our short trip to the runway.
We departed on runway nine, and within no time, the plane was aloft. Dion informed me that we would be traveling between 60 and 64 mph at an altitude of 1000 feet. Shortly after take-off, Dion banked the plane 30-degrees to the left, telling me to pay attention because I would have to do the same soon.
Once up in the air, I looked out across the farmland and saw Kewanee off to the left of us, recognizable by the Kewanee water tower.
In the olden days, Dion said, when people traveled by airplane, they didn’t have fancy navigational and technical equipment. Instead, he said, they relied on landmarks with names on them or watched for names on buildings to get their bearings.
A few minutes later, I was up. Dion instructed me to put my feet on the rudder pedals. He released the control stick and told me to push on the left pedal as I used three fingers to bring the control stick slowly towards me. As soon as I did, the plane responded, and began to turn left towards Kewanee. Dion assured me I had just made a 30-degree bank. I quickly turned the controls back over to him and looked down at Kewanee laid out below me. The golf course was easily spotted, and Dion pointed to several people below. They did, indeed, look like ants. The Oasis swimming pool wasn’t opened yet, but the blue of the pool was easy to spot.
It didn’t take but a few minutes to fly over Kewanee and we made another turn, flying above, but through two wind turbines as we made our way back to the airport.
I took the opportunity to ask Dion about his experience as both pilot and with the Young Eagles program. He’s been a pilot since he was young. His first date with his wife was in the Champ, he told me. He has volunteered to give free rides to kids since the Young Eagle program began in 1992. The program relies on the generosity of EAA members who provide youths, ages 8-17, an opportunity to fly.
That particular day, Dion had given two kids rides. Usually the short 20 to 25 minute trips are uneventful but every once in a while you get a child who is terrified, he said. He’s usually able to talk to them and by the end of the flight, they want to go again.
Dion pulled the carburetor heat to prevent it from icing up as he slowed the plane down to what seemed like a crawl.
“I’ve flown backwards before,” he said, comparing a plane in the air to that of a boat in a river, pushing against a swift current.
The landing was smooth, first one wheel, then the other before the tail set down. It was as nice as I could imagine but he apologized for the bumpiness.
On the runway, Dion told me he retired from Rock Valley College where he taught airplane mechanics. He had recently been asked to go back and teach a class.
Once back at the airport, I spilled out of the plane awkwardly, thanked Dion and his wife for the experience and went to find my husband, who had made friends inside the air-conditioned terminal and was still holding my purse. He seemed relieved to see me back in one piece.
When I had woke up that morning, I thought I had my day planned out, but it just goes to show you. You never know where a day might take you. It can go downhill. It can go sideways and sometimes, if you’re really lucky, it can take you soaring through the blue sky.
