The Joke Is On Us This Time [Reader Post]

The Dehavilland Beaver, What A Beautiful Plane

My best friend, Knarley Manners, was a little rough around the edges and had a mean side when it came to practical jokes; however, he was a gifted mechanic and a natural pilot.  He was never licensed as a mechanic or a pilot, but the two of us didn’t let small details interfere with using every opportunity to fly his uncle’s Dehavilland Beaver plane to and from base camp.  What the Hell? neither one of us had a driver’s license until we were over 21.  We flew supplies mainly and a few hunters who wondered at the advisability of riding with two teenage pilots that didn’t need to shave.

The Beaver flew as a float plane and with skis, it could take off and land with very little runway, so it was the favorite among bush pilots during the 60’s.  It could carry a tremendous payload and was considered the workhorse of the bush planes.  Actually, the only other bush planes I knew of were the Cessna 185 and the 182 and they were the same fuselage except for the engine.

Knarley’s uncle flew in with a Grizzly hunter that was a long time friend of his uncle and wanted to only hunt with him.  Knarley’s uncle told us to take the plane and supply a few of the other camps with provisions: this was just what we wanted to hear, we could now fly all over the territory and practice all our flying skills under the pretense of working.

One of the new guides asked if he could fly out with us to town and back so that he could call home.  We weren’t that anxious to let anyone know about how we were practicing to become fighter pilots, but how do you say no to a guy you work with 200 miles from town.

Knarley said,

Sure, you can fly out with us, but I’m not riding the damn wing again

Knarley wasn’t swearing because he was mad, he was a Jehova Witness and didn’t really swear unless he was really mad, he was just sending me a signal to play along.  I answered up.

I’m flying, it’s my turn and I need the practice!

The kid said he would ride the wing, as long as we would take him to town to use the phone.

Now, those of you who have flown or ridden in the Beaver know that it has tremendous carrying capacity and when there were extra passengers, they would just sit on the cargo and enjoy the ride.

Knarley tied a rope over the wing with a foothold underneath.  The kid gave us his wallet and his change and positioned himself over the wing so that the leading edge was in his belly.  Knarley told him not to worry about the knots coming undone, because he was real good with rope; he also suggested that he not hold on too tight or his hands would get cold and he might fall.

Knarley started the Beaver’s big engine and the back draft already had the kid’s jacket and shirt in his armpits as we taxied down the strip.  I was beginning to worry how far Knarley was going to carry the joke, when he turned off the engine and told the kid to get inside and forget about riding the wing.

He was a good sport about the episode and ended up being a really good hunting guide: maybe not the smartest guide in camp, but a good hunting guide none the less.

We were just kids having a good time. and a good joke is a good joke, as long as no one gets hurt; unfortunately, most of America feels like they have been tricked into riding the wing, because of the election of Obama.  Except this time it isn’t a joke and Knarley isn’t there to stop the plane and let us off the wing.  The joke is no longer funny and people are being hurt with this Socialist concept of Redistribution of Wealth that Obama is so proud of; actually our economy is absorbing such an assault, that we may be decades trying to recover.

I can’t help but want to tell Knarley through the intercom,

Knarley, the joke has gone far enough, we better shut it down