I heard voices while in the other room and thought someone was outside. After a moment, I realized the restorer was on the phone—his tone calm but decisive.
“I have no way of getting to you right now,” he was saying.
It made sense all at once. The sandblaster was on the other end of the line. He had an opening—one of the last before retirement—and was trying to fit Mama’s Chief into his final round of projects.
Mama’s Chief is a 1946 Aeronca Chief my mother brought home as wings and laundry baskets before my parents were married. It is a project once again which we are in the process of bringing back to flight.
The restorer had explained before that sandblasting is essential to clean the surface before priming and painting. Protecting the surface with paint needs to happen quickly afterward or rust can begin go form. He’d done it himself on past projects but decided this time it was worth having the expert do it, so we could focus on the next stages.
While the restorer coordinated timing, I finished loading bags into the car for another day at the restoration shop. Both the welder and our Aeronca friend had offered to transport Mama’s Chief once the details were in place.
Eventually, the restorer committed to having the fuselage at the sandblaster’s shop the following morning. Hanging up the phone, he muttered something about our week being “shot.”
We had planned for a Friday sandblast and Saturday paint, but life has a way of rewriting schedules. The sandblaster wanted Mama’s Chief in before a couple of trailers and a car chassis—then he was calling it a career. There wasn’t a moment to waste.
Our Aeronca friend quickly offered to help with the transport. He confirmed he had space in his hangar, off the airport and unaffected by the taxiway sealing scheduled later in the week, and asked if we had epoxy primer and reducer ready. The restorer assured him we did.
As we drove toward the restoration shop, the restorer explained that any issues uncovered during sandblasting would be marked afterward. Once painted, the welder would return to repair those areas, and we’d scuff and repaint the steel tubing as needed.
Shifting Gears
If the Gee Bee had been out of the paint booth at the shop, we could have done everything there, but timing didn’t align—and that’s just how these projects go. The sandblaster wanted Mama’s Chief there at 9 a.m., estimating the work would be done by midafternoon. Painting would follow the next day.
Mid-October weather in southern Ohio will turn cool fast, so it was a narrow and uncertain window for outdoor painting. The restorer had showed me pictures of when he painted his Cub fuselage outside—carefully placed on sawhorses so every surface could be reached. It worked well when temperatures were warm, the air still, and humidity low.
We would need to wipe Mama’s Chief down thoroughly after sandblasting and clean the paint guns before spraying. Once we arrived at the shop, the two restorers compared notes. The restoration shop’s paint booth was currently inflated for another project, but there was room to move the project out while the paint cured.
The other restorer suggested bringing Mama’s Chief up to use the booth instead. It was a longer haul—about forty-five minutes each way compared to just a few miles to the sandblaster—but it offered a more controlled environment.
In the end, it was one of those moments that sums up aviation restoration perfectly: plans shifting, friends stepping up, and opportunities appearing just in time.
If we were going to get this done anyway, there was no better time than the present.
Explore More
Longeron Replacement and Fuselage Progress — how Mama’s Chief reached this stage
Gear Geometry Verification — aligning the landing gear with the welder
Hazel the Hatz — another restoration story with deep roots in craftsmanship
Parade of Planes — celebrating aviation community and teamwork