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I’ve only ever had two things happen in airplanes of any note.
Couple of years ago landing in Mazatlán, Mexico. The 737 seemed to be coming down towards the landing strip much faster then usual. Much faster. We hit pretty hard, sort of bounced, and taxied in to the terminal. I didn’t think too much about it because, hey, we survived. There are only so many flights in and out, so generally you fly back with most of the people that you came in with. When we were taking off after our week was up a lady in the back of the plane hollered “that was sure smoother then the landing!” So I wasn’t the only one that noticed.
About a decade or so ago we are looking for a WWII fighter plane (Bell P-39 Airacobra) that got lost on its way to Alaska then Russia during WWII. We know roughly where it is in northern British Columbia. We are in a tiny two seat Cessna. A 140? 150? Doesn’t matter. Anyway, we have to stop for fuel at a tiny fly in community. Dirt airstrip, trees on three sides, lake at the end. Tiny. We come in, hit hard, bounce back up, and I swear that for a second we were pointing up at about forty five degrees, and tilting sideways at about forty five degrees with one wing tip about a foot from the runway. The whole thing happened in about two seconds, no more. He straightens out and we land. The pilot said nothing, and I said nothing, but I’m pretty sure that it was a close call.
Couple of years ago landing in Mazatlán, Mexico. The 737 seemed to be coming down towards the landing strip much faster then usual. Much faster. We hit pretty hard, sort of bounced, and taxied in to the terminal. I didn’t think too much about it because, hey, we survived. There are only so many flights in and out, so generally you fly back with most of the people that you came in with. When we were taking off after our week was up a lady in the back of the plane hollered “that was sure smoother then the landing!” So I wasn’t the only one that noticed.
About a decade or so ago we are looking for a WWII fighter plane (Bell P-39 Airacobra) that got lost on its way to Alaska then Russia during WWII. We know roughly where it is in northern British Columbia. We are in a tiny two seat Cessna. A 140? 150? Doesn’t matter. Anyway, we have to stop for fuel at a tiny fly in community. Dirt airstrip, trees on three sides, lake at the end. Tiny. We come in, hit hard, bounce back up, and I swear that for a second we were pointing up at about forty five degrees, and tilting sideways at about forty five degrees with one wing tip about a foot from the runway. The whole thing happened in about two seconds, no more. He straightens out and we land. The pilot said nothing, and I said nothing, but I’m pretty sure that it was a close call.
















