The first day in Reno, we had a few errands to run. Not the least of which was to refill the oxygen bottles for the flight back east at the end of the week. Mark and I (mainly me) had drained them coming over. Flying high to avoid turbulence, coupled with my ridiculous sensitivity to altitude meant we stayed almost the entire flight hooked up to supplemental oxygen.
Mark started the morning calling around to see who could help us and ended up selecting Aviation Classics, at Reno Stead Airport, as the service provider. We drove out, both bottles in hand and entered the hangar via one of two entrance doors.
WOW! A hangar filled with aircraft in various states of repair and completion, greeted us. An airplane hospital is how I would best describe it. About half a dozen men were busy at work.
Mark delivered the empty tanks to the office and asked if they minded us poking around. The staff and mechanics could not have been more encouraging, so we took the opportunity to get to know the inside of aircraft I had previously only seen chocked on a ramp - or never seen at all. Awesome!
Twin engines, exposed. Wings removed. After-burners explained. Despite the sadness at some of the dreams yet to be realized and projects stalled, there was a lot to make me smile.
I watched as a guy gently lowered an ejection seat back into a Russian trainer. And took as much in as I could (most of it over my head, of course) when another mechanic gave me the in's and out's of several of the other Russian fighter jets.
Mark and I were in heaven. I for one, love the smell of hangar. Grease, oil, fuel and vintage upholstery.... Mmmm.
The MiG 21:
Enough fuel to fly just an hour, short wings (think squirrel suit) meaning the aircraft virtually drops like a rock if the engines quit and air force bases well inside Russia's borders make perfect sense when you don't want your pilots to defect! Scary!!!
Mark stepped away for a minute to check on the oxygen refilling process. I took the chance to ask my new mechanic friend if I could sit inside the MiG 21 I was peering into. He said yes! After promising I would not pull the red ejection lever and give myself the headache of a lifetime, I climbed inside.
It was perfectly sized for me. Russian pilots were apparently chosen for skill and physical dimensions. At 5'7", I was about as tall as one would want to be while crammed into this surprisingly comfortable seat and surrounded by important instruments. Of course some of the instruments looked vaguely familiar to me... But others, still labeled in Russian were a complete mystery, so I kept my hands to myself. :-)
Out the front, the view was almost non-existent. The windscreen and canopy was surprisingly close to my head and the shallow angle meant I had a window of 6" high and a couple of feet in depth to look through. Bearing in mind that, upon landing, this aircraft would have the nose pitched up significantly, I think it's safe to say the pilot could not see the runway at all. He better have lined it up nicely before touch-down!
At the end of my bent legs, I tucked my booted feet into the rudder pedals. Yes, tucked. Each small pedal sported leather hooks on the left and right of the pedal. They wrapped over my feet, giving me the ability to push on the rudder pedals as well as pull up on each. Why? To quote the guy eagerly explaining stuff to me: "So that if you get a leg blown off, you can still control left and right with the remaining foot." Glad I asked! Even gladder to have not been born into the life of a Russian jet fighter pilot.
All too soon, the oxygen tanks were filled and our excuse to poke around in Aviation Classics business, had come to a screeching halt. Mark and I reluctantly exited the airplane hospital and re-entered real life... Still smiling.
Mark started the morning calling around to see who could help us and ended up selecting Aviation Classics, at Reno Stead Airport, as the service provider. We drove out, both bottles in hand and entered the hangar via one of two entrance doors.
WOW! A hangar filled with aircraft in various states of repair and completion, greeted us. An airplane hospital is how I would best describe it. About half a dozen men were busy at work.
Mark delivered the empty tanks to the office and asked if they minded us poking around. The staff and mechanics could not have been more encouraging, so we took the opportunity to get to know the inside of aircraft I had previously only seen chocked on a ramp - or never seen at all. Awesome!
Twin engines, exposed. Wings removed. After-burners explained. Despite the sadness at some of the dreams yet to be realized and projects stalled, there was a lot to make me smile.
I watched as a guy gently lowered an ejection seat back into a Russian trainer. And took as much in as I could (most of it over my head, of course) when another mechanic gave me the in's and out's of several of the other Russian fighter jets.
Mark and I were in heaven. I for one, love the smell of hangar. Grease, oil, fuel and vintage upholstery.... Mmmm.
The MiG 21:
| Role | Fighter |
|---|---|
| Manufacturer | Mikoyan-Gurevich OKB |
| Designer | Artem Mikoyan |
| First flight | 14 February 1956 (Ye-2) |
| Introduction | 1959 (MiG-21F) |
Enough fuel to fly just an hour, short wings (think squirrel suit) meaning the aircraft virtually drops like a rock if the engines quit and air force bases well inside Russia's borders make perfect sense when you don't want your pilots to defect! Scary!!!
Mark stepped away for a minute to check on the oxygen refilling process. I took the chance to ask my new mechanic friend if I could sit inside the MiG 21 I was peering into. He said yes! After promising I would not pull the red ejection lever and give myself the headache of a lifetime, I climbed inside.
It was perfectly sized for me. Russian pilots were apparently chosen for skill and physical dimensions. At 5'7", I was about as tall as one would want to be while crammed into this surprisingly comfortable seat and surrounded by important instruments. Of course some of the instruments looked vaguely familiar to me... But others, still labeled in Russian were a complete mystery, so I kept my hands to myself. :-)
Out the front, the view was almost non-existent. The windscreen and canopy was surprisingly close to my head and the shallow angle meant I had a window of 6" high and a couple of feet in depth to look through. Bearing in mind that, upon landing, this aircraft would have the nose pitched up significantly, I think it's safe to say the pilot could not see the runway at all. He better have lined it up nicely before touch-down!
At the end of my bent legs, I tucked my booted feet into the rudder pedals. Yes, tucked. Each small pedal sported leather hooks on the left and right of the pedal. They wrapped over my feet, giving me the ability to push on the rudder pedals as well as pull up on each. Why? To quote the guy eagerly explaining stuff to me: "So that if you get a leg blown off, you can still control left and right with the remaining foot." Glad I asked! Even gladder to have not been born into the life of a Russian jet fighter pilot.
All too soon, the oxygen tanks were filled and our excuse to poke around in Aviation Classics business, had come to a screeching halt. Mark and I reluctantly exited the airplane hospital and re-entered real life... Still smiling.
