After several soggy days and a forecast featuring thunderstorms and gusty winds, the restorers made the call: Monday would be a better day to hoist the Huey. It wasn’t an easy decision, but with safety in mind and opening day around the corner, it felt like the right one.
Despite the weather delay, momentum hasn’t slowed. The no parking signs posted around the coffee shop are already in place, a visual signal that something big is about to happen.
The pedestal and pole are securely in place and signage has gone up around the coffee shop as well.
And the Huey?
It stands tall, perched proudly in the middle of of the restoration shop lot waiting for its ride down the street to it’s new home.
With a break in the weather during the week, the team snuck in one last detail: a final stencil was painted on the side of the aircraft.
It was a quiet act, done while our ever-watchful veteran volunteer wasn’t looking. But the pride in the project is visible now from every angle.
Inside the shop, shelves line the west wall and the new name graces the coffee shop’s exterior.
April 16—the official opening day—is nearly here.
The logistics of mounting a Vietnam-era helicopter to a pole aren’t simple.
The Huey will sit roughly 10 feet off the ground at its lowest point.
After plenty of deliberation, the team decided to bring in the shop’s work stands for the day.
Additional plywood will be laid underneath for added support, and the helicopter’s skids will be fastened into plates atop the pole.
For the rear section—slightly higher up—an additional stand was added to allow access beyond the regular platforms.
Ironically, after committing to Monday, the Friday forecast improved drastically.
Thunderstorms gave way to simple, steady rain.
No matter—Saturday became the perfect prep day. Stands were loaded onto a large trailer, ropes were coiled and ready, and hard hats were decorated with the coffee shop logo by none other than our veteran volunteer.
All around, the mood was upbeat. The recent rain and blooming spring colors have even helped ease the homesickness of the coffee shop staff up from Texas. One manager mentioned that Urbana feels like home—just without the pine trees.
By day’s end on Saturday, the rain had tapered off and a pond had temporarily formed beside the shop. It didn’t last long as just a puddle—some of the younger volunteers quickly decorated it with a fleet of rubber ducks.
Monday’s forecast calls for colder temperatures, but at least the rain will be gone. Hopefully. Around here, you learn to wait and see what really happens.
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