The restorer and Uncle Paul inspected and serviced the trailer in the days leading up to the trip. Hotel reservations were made near the home of the seller and snacks were bought – adventure awaits!
The morning we left with the trailer bouncing down the road behind Uncle Paul’s truck felt like a moment suspended in time. Conversations stretched from Ohio, through Indiana and finally into Illinois before I drifted off to sleep smiling about what lay ahead In Iowa.
Along the backroads traveled, an odd-shaped building appeared amongst the crops. Pulling out my phone and Foreflight, I confirmed what was suspected our trek taking us within sight of a VOR. In this case Burlington, BRL. Doesn’t matter if we are in the air or on the ground, getting confirmation of our location from a visual landmark feels good – especially if it relates to flying!
Driving most of the day, we finally arrived at their farm to drop the trailer for the night. As we climbed out of the truck, a white Pyrenees sauntered up to inspect us.
While he was sniffing hello and encouraging pets, we found out the big floof brought smiles and telephone calls from the neighboring town when he wanders off. The wife informed us the floof was her husband’s dog, especially when he had to be brought home.
We were invited in to go over the paperwork and get to know each other.
While the restorer, Peppermint Pam, and Uncle Paul chatted with the husband and wife, their words sounded like adults on a Charlie Brown cartoon as I held the binder holding the paperwork in my hand, the data plate tucked into the front pocket.
Flipping through the pages, tears formed in my eyes as a signature I knew well jumped into view. Daddy’s name is listed for a ferry flight just before the Chief was sold.
The little airplane had made its way around the Chicago area before falling back into baskets in central Indiana.
The husband said the Chief was a project when he brought it back from Indiana, he intended to make it fly again by buying another Chief to fly while working on it.
Another example of things don’t always happen how we think they will.
Paperwork was discussed and signatures were obtained before we realized how late it was getting.
The husband suggested a restaurant nearby to eat and apologized they had already finished dinner.
We said our goodbyes for the evening and headed off to dinner and sleep.
Returning the next morning, the wife informed us her husband would be around as soon as he returned from picking up the dog from another adventure.
We found the trailer moved into position by the Chief.
The doors still looked like the pictures my mom had taken. Years showed in the paint but it was the same airplane.
No other covering remained, that was enough to know this was Mom’s project.
We heard a car coming up the drive and looked up to see the floof was navigating the husband back home.
The floof sniffed bits and pieces of the Chief as we squirreled parts away into the truck bed.
While Mom had brought her project home in laundry baskets, ours is coming home in Christmas tins holding smaller parts and are giving ideas for decorating after the project is once again whole.
Before long, all that remained were the wings and structure to load onto the trailer.
Using screws and zip ties and lastly ratchet straps, the husband, restorer and Uncle Paul secured the parts while the wife invited peppermint Pam and I in for coffee.
Sitting in their kitchen, the runway is in perfect view just beyond the windows. The wife enjoyed flying with her husband but had no desire to go beyond that.
The wife invited us back for their yearly breakfast in September indicating that where the Chief has sat was where everyone enjoys pancakes and conversation from all over the country. She then slipped peach preserves into both or our hands and a warm hug inviting us to return.
We said our goodbyes and climbed into the truck to head home.
Uncle Paul started out driving with the understanding Peppermint Pam would take over when he needed a break.
Conversation was not a prevalent as the trip out, we found a restaurant to stop at for lunch and got back on the road after more comfort food.
The truck was comfortable but sleep wasn’t on my mind.
I must have drifted off eventually as I woke up to the truck slowing down and pulling to the side of the road.
Uncle Paul was getting tired and Peppermint Pam was headed for the drivers seat.
Next to where we stopped was a sign saying “your GPS is wrong turn around” with a smaller sign below explaining the road did not connect several miles ahead.
I pointed to the sign and asked Pam how she wanted to proceed, her response was “you’re navigating, the boys can talk in back for a little bit”
I climbed up front and pulled out another phone to compare maps and get an idea for how to go.
The road, thankfully, was not busy.
Pam pulled back onto the road and we found a street to turn off on just ahead eventually making our way to the highway heading back to Ohio.
Miles ticked by as chatting resumed; the front seat concerned with the truck and navigating while the back seat talked of airplanes from years past and thoughts of projects for down the road.
The snack bag rustled open then the sound of candy being devoured softly could be heard.
Conversation behind resumed with talk of one project in particular returning to their shared space before silence again.
More muffled sounds from the back seat.
Peppermint Pam looked accusingly into the rear view mirror, “that tub of M&M’s better last till we get home”
Her husband and the restorer looked remarkably like kids caught with their hands in the candy jar, eyes wide with mischief as they ate the last of the tub.
Peppermint Pam grumbled under her breath pretending to be mad, a smile popped up in the corner of her mouth before slipping away.
We found a town for gas and dinner near Indianapolis.
The break from the drive did us all some good.
While getting gas someone asked about the airplane on the trailer. The little kid in the back seat of their car had his eyes glued to it asking if he could play on it.
Like my godfather and our other cousins as kids. The more time passes the more it stays the same.
During the last push home, Uncle Paul mentioned in passing he thought the Chief may have been green from the factory from the condition of the window moldings.
The restorer said we needed to do some research but was happy with how much was on hand already.
We were all tired when we got back to the airport at nearly midnight.
The trailer was dropped behind our hangar, we hugged goodbye and the red truck drove out of sight on the way back to their home.
Tired, the restorer showed a picture of their house on his phone with a sleepy smile.
“Think we are going to get a call before long”
I look at the picture more closely, a Piper Cub logo was visible from the street.
We headed home, keeping each other alert along the way with conversation from the past few days the restorer relaying Rosie and several others from the restoration shop had put the sign up with help from the local sign shop.
As we pulled into our garage Uncle Paul’s text said only “well played”
Welcome home, indeed.