Saturday, December 18, 2010




PART DOS


As one may suspect, the “Plane Gang” had a lot of visiting and catching up to do back at the aerodrome. That also gave yours truly some time to take more pictures of one of my favorite places on earth, “Old Kingsbury Aerodrome”. I snapped ‘till my little ol’ heart was contented…for now.

One interesting feature that had showed up for the fly-in was “Canadian John”. John is retired and apparently migrates to Texas in the winter to both escape the harsh Toronto winters and to help work on Ford Model T’s at the aerodrome. He has other works that are notable including an old truck he restored that is now housed at the “Poncho Villa Museum” in Columbus, NM. He knows his stuff.

He has a modest motor home and travels with his faithful companion, “Sebastian, the not so wonder dog”. Sebastian is part wolf and, though somewhat aged, is suspected of the willful assassination of at least two of the aerodrome’s fierce guard chickens, “Rooster Cogburn” and “Henny Penny”.

Rooster was a hoot. At night he would flap up on top of a pile of steel plates. Then he would navigate to a higher platform and then an even higher one. After that, this feathery critter would flap even higher to the welded tube airframe of a WWI SPAD replica that is hung from the ceiling. From there he would flap about 8 more feet up and across to the Piper J-4 airframe also suspended some 25’ directly above the hanger floor. The spot below, of course, became his personal dumping grounds thereby disqualifying him for the “chicken of the year award”. This handsome ruler of the roost will be sorely missed.

We had hardly enough time to wear out our Chinese lunch when Roger herded us all up to a preferred restaurant out in the middle of nowhere. This guy has a hard time figuring out how people find a restaurant that’s parked “out yonder” in southwest Texas. “Out yonder” in Texas could mean around the corner or a day’s ride. There simply wasn’t much near this place other than the regional flora and fauna. Imagine our surprise when four car loads of hungry folks showed up to a restaurant sporting a sign that said, “Closed for re-modeling”. Well, Connie and I were in no danger of blowing away in a stiff wind and our stomachs were not bumping into our backbones so it was no big deal to us. The other’s seemed to be more motivated and said, “Follow us!”.

After heading over, under, around, and through the rather unaccommodating roads of “almost civilization”, we re-discovered smoothly paved roads and the miracle of lights. We got separated from the others in the full-scale onslaught of modern rush hour traffic in the real town of New Braunfels. However, in almost no time, we were pleased that a couple of cars in our party found us.

In a short while we were standing in mile-lone line (well…maybe it was only a half mile long. But, this is Texas, you know) at what appeared to me to be the most popular restaurant within at least five miles. The “Gristmill” in nearby Gruene is at least as popular that I can tell. We had the distinct pleasure of dining there a couple of years ago. The place had marvelous catfish for dinner (is "marvelous" a new species?).

This new place is called “Clear Springs Restaurant” which is situated just out of New Braunfels on the way to Sequin (http://www.clearspringscafe.com/). Talk about cool-and-a-half! The land on which this place was established was originally surveyed by none other than James Bowie in 1825! It was hard to tell if anyone else was stupefied by standing in this old converted grocery store and cotton barn but this ol’ boy was!

The next thing to draw our attention was the mile-high (well…more like half-mile high) deep-fried Texas onion rings being hauled out to an endless array of hungry Texans and visiting omnivores by able bodied waiters and waitresses. Never having high-jacked a mountain of onion rings before, both ends of our table ordered them and then waited with bated breath for the servers to return. It took a herd of them to serve our party of hundreds of gnashing teeth.

The food was absolutely fabulous. I knocked out a rib-eye steak while the rest of the professional eating team tore into the various offerings of BBQ’d ribs, steaks,and chicken, and grilled fish.

Everyone has heard about the “Texas Two-Step” dance step. But few have heard about the “Texas Postprandial Waddle”. This is where you eat so much phenomenal Texas cookin’ that it’s almost impossible to put one boot in front of the other. You waddle out to your car (with help from the staff if necessary) and go about your merry way and rustle up a nap.

When we returned to the aerodrome, fellow flyer, musician, and dear friend, John Goble and I decided to fling a string and render our version of music to whomever may be at hand. There really wasn’t a crowd to please. Other than Roger and Connie, John’s wife, Linda, and a couple of others, it was Rooster Cogburn and the Curtiss Jenny who were listening. Not that it mattered. We were having a ball!

It is really difficult to express how cool it is to just “pull up a stump” on the hanger floor and “git down” with another musician. In this case, John brought his unique fiddle (Texans don’t play “violins” ‘cause it’s agin’ the law, don’tcha know) and I dragged out my special edition Martin D-16M g-tar and we commenced to have a good time.

One reason we didn’t draw a crowd was that we were outside in the open and in the cool November Texas breeze. The other reason was that it started raining like crazy! Nothing like a good downpour to wreck a really nice two-musician concert, I always say. In any case, John and I had a great time even if no one could hear our caterwauling over the Texas tempest that pummeled the hanger. We played a long while and then our guitar and fiddle got tired. So, we didn’t want to be accused of “instrument abuse” so we put our respective instruments in their cases and called it a night. The day was done and we had fun.

That meant we got to stay in Steve’s “FEMA Castle”. The guys ended up with access to three really nice FEMA trailers that had been originally assigned for assisting with the Hurricane Katrina storm. Two of the trailers had yet to be lived in and one had only been used a short time. The came furnished with beds, a stove, a refrigerator and many other amenities. Such a deal!

We awoke to a really nice day in paradise, believe it or not! To be honest, after the deluge of water the previous evening, it was difficult to have faith that the runway could be used for something other than a mud bog drag race or maybe a goat ropin’ at one end or the other.

With that hope cooking, it was time to grab a camera (after grabbing some coffee, of course) and get ready for the arrival of the airplanes. All-in-all there was about 35 aircraft that showed up. Given the “iffy” weather, that was considered a resounding success! “Snapshot Joe” took a ton of nice pictures. He didn’t take quite as many as last year for some reason. Perhaps the coffee hadn’t kicked in or there wasn’t enough of it.

During the day there were other interesting things happening. For instance, Connie got to ride in a sidecar/hack hooked to a 1921 Indian motorcycle! As they swerved about the aerodrome, she advised that she could just see the old cartoon where the hack left the motorcycle on a curve, flew off by itself and just barely missed annihilation while dodging though a chicken coop, then reunited with the motorcycle. She also said that, because of the military paintjob, she felt like she was “Colonel Klink” in a sidecar. There’s a strange feeling she may pick up the moniker “Ol’ Sidecar”. Naw. She’s happy with the one she has, “Sidecook”. She had a blast.

One of the pictures above is of an early Ford Model “T”. Yours truly got to drive that cute little guy! You simply must drive a Model “T”! It has three pedals, a clutch lever (it’s belt driven!), and the throttle is on the steering wheel along with the spark advance lever. You juggle the levers and pedals until you have forward motion and then your’re on your way! It’s not all that difficult after a few minutes. What an excellent experience to drive the type of vehicle my grand father would have driven!

Now, everyone knows that a having a great day of fun taking pictures and moseying amongst the airplanes works up an appetite. Leave it to Rog to have a plan when hunger smote the gang. All of the kith, kin, and clan boarded their respective vehicles or carpooled and headed back west to Sequin. Just off and alongside “the 10”, we all rolled up to the “Los Cucos” Mexican restaurant and a great big smile formed upon my face. Man! There’s no doubt that I’m going to have a really difficult time going back home.

“Los Cucos” is Spanish for “The Cuckoos”. I think I get it. Only cuckoos don’t come here to eat! If that isn’t the correct interpretation then it has to be, “We’re cuckoo about this place and this is where we gather!”.

Imagine my glee when I noticed that the menu boasted a few new dishes that I had yet to master! And, the servings were huge! I thought I hurt myself at the Chinese buffet! I’ve eaten at a lot of Mexican restaurants in many states. But, I have to place this cantina right at the top of the list. That’s no small feat!

The rain found a new place to fall so we had a nice pleasant, cool, and dry Sunday morning the next day. Connie and I checked to confirm that this was still Texas and that we were still on vacation. Yep! That was still the case. So, later that morning we decided to head just down the street to Mr. Baker’s home.

Mr. Baker is Roger’s dear friend who lives nearby. He is the quintessential “west Texan” who has been retired for probably 15 or more years. A couple of years ago on a previous visit there, the gang all went over to his house for food and fellowship. John Goble and I broke out the instruments and played some of the old Bob Wills music and a few other ditties. This was the first time we had had the opportunity to somewhat recreate such a nice time with him.

As usual, he enjoyed our music. We were only able to stay for a relatively short while because he is experiencing some health issues that leave him tired fairly quickly. It was still a hoot for the roving minstrels who are always looking for a stage.

Most of the remainder of the day was used to rest (rest is my friend) and to just fellowship with the guys. What a nice time of talking about friends, family, and, you guessed it, airplanes (all the guys are pilots and mechanics).

Time for a break. So, don’t touch that dial (some of you…uh…older folks will remember the announcer saying that when it came time for a commercial on the radio or TV). Stay tuned for the next segment of the “Randy and Connie’s Big Adventure” (for you Pee Wee Herman fans, we saw the Alamo on the last trip out here, heheh).

Saturday, December 11, 2010





The Big Trip-arooski

We did it!! More than 7,400 miles of guiding the big Freestar van between the beer cans were accumulated without suffering anything other than aching squared-off gluteus maximus muscles and having just enough energy left to complain about not having any energy. According to Shirley Gerber, we need an antidote for fun poisoning! Boy! What a great way to suffer!

Hopefully, I can relate to everyone what it’s like to eat one’s way through the several states (and not need an operation by the time the vacation has ended) while enjoying the wonderful sights and sounds of our fabulous country. We broke in at least one new Chinese buffet and hammered a couple of well-used ones. Not even “Home Town Buffet” was left untouched. That was the one where we ate breakfast for three days in advance. I wasn’t about to leave being hungry to chance, HEHEH. I’ll try to get to the hot dogs, tacos, steaks. BBQ’s, biscuits and gravy, and such as the newsletter continues.

The hope was to depart the “Land of Milk and Free Money” (ah, yes…a sprinkle of cynicism) shortly after church on Sunday Nov. 5th. However, just as the plans to leave early fell apart on our previous trip last year, the plans eroded for this trip as well. So, not to be disheartened by mere demands on our vacation time, we simply departed the next morning…later than we had planed but resolute and full of vim and caffeine (I can’t seem to do vigor that early in the day).

It’s a long long way to Texas. In fact, the old adage is that, no matter from where you depart, when you reach Texas, you’re half way there. Just to add to the “Encyclopedia of Interesting Information”, it is the same distance from El Paso, Texas to Phoenix, AZ as it is from El Paso to Abilene.

We drove and drove and drove and the scenery seemed to indicate that we were actually going …nowhere. But, I wasn’t to be fooled because I had successfully traversed this desolate desert on more than one occasion. I knew that my faithful Ford Freestar’s odometer was not failing me. Of course, neither was my bladder deceiving me. When you drink lots of Diet Pepsi on purpose, you know that you will have to stop and resolve all comfort issues at some place along the highway. That means that, when the truck stop where you find relief is different than the one at which you previously found joy, then you are making progress. It’s a simple standard when you stop to think about it but it works really well in Texas when the scenery hasn’t changed in a couple of days.

Kingsbury, Texas is a cool place at which to arrive. It was once a thriving town at the end of the railroad line. All roads led to Kingsbury so it was a town of hustle and bustle. Alas, the railroad pushed on into greener territory and much of Kingsbury remained neglected. Not everyone is unhappy about that. A lack of urbanization isn’t all that bad if you are retired or, like Roger Freeman, you have a beautiful grass strip that can be called a runway for your airplanes.

Connie and I look really look forward to this part of the trip because it involves family. Roger is Connie’s “baby brother”…a point which she seems to lord over him at times. Is that a “girl thing”? Anyway, Roger is tolerant of his elder “seester” as usual. And, we’re all agog because Roger is the curator, owner, chief pilot,and chief mechanic and oil can hoister for the “Pioneer Flight Museum” (http://www.pioneerflightmuseum.org/). We're talkin' "cool guy" here!

We really dig “Old Kingsbury Aerodrome”! There’s little to not get excited about at this place! You can throw a rock and hit an old airplane. I would actually caution against doing such a thing as it may get you fed to the local catfish by the museum volunteers who, with much blood, sweat, and tears, help to keep the planes and airport in tip-top shape.

These truly committed gents (or at least, some of them need to be…heheh…just joking. You guys are the best!) have the Herculean task of tending everything from the runway to the 1917 Curtiss JN-4 “Canuck”. There are ancient quirky Ford Model T’s with which to contend and which need to be babysat continually, wayward aircraft like the early 1930’s Pietenpol Skyscout powered by a Ford Model A engine that recently overcame a radiator issue, and the rebuilding of some of the important parts of the original WW-I Fokker Dr 1 Tri-plane. Another matter of focus and wonder is the general parts scrounging for which these guys are famous. They can find or make just about anything! Perhaps in another issue I’ll relate how they are building early motorcycle replicas from bicycle frames and two-cycle moped engines! I rode one and it is most certainly….COOL! Included in the update will be the two competing Model T racers that are currently being built! I can’t wait for that project to be finished. Check in with the website to stay apprised of these fun and historical projects. Al Sumrall and Tom Gaylord usually ship out the newsletters and workday updates. I’m sure that wouldn’t mind adding a few new e-mail address.

Anyway…on the way out of town the first day we were able to hook up with Don and Shirley Gerber in Apple Valley. You may recall that they are the bandleaders for the “Cedar Grove Bluegrass Band” for which I was their bass player and harmony vocalist. They treated us to heaping helping of homebuilt chili and cornbread. I think she had cots prepared for a siesta knowing that I can’t get enough chili and cornbread and would be stoked afterwards. That was a wonderful idea and my eyeballs certainly did feel like a couple of lead fishing weights. But, the van needed to be BOI (back on the Interstate) so we could have a fighting chance to see as many people as possible. It was “hugs all around” and then we were warming the tires again.

The end of the first day found us at Kingman, AZ which I personally have found to be about the average stopping place when I depart from this area. By lunch time, we were at a big ol’ Petro Truck Stop which had an “Iron Skillet” restaurant parked in its midst. We commenced to waylay the buffet there for awhile. We showed no mercy to the steam tables. After annihilating any chance of being hungry for the next few hours, we headed out on I-40 and were listening to the Bible on CD (a great way to stay in the word). At about 9PM or so, we called it “quits” at Deming, NM. Not one mile of scenery had changed since the last time we had driven through there.

There wasn’t much to see or to do the entirety of the next day but drive. Drive we did. When you get to Texas, you can expect to see “mile and miles of Texas” (yes….”Bob Wills” and ”Asleep at the Wheel”). We were so far out into west Texas that, by evening time, even the radio signals couldn’t find us! The end of the line for day three was Junction, TX. Once settled, Connie spent awhile sewing on birthday aprons for the grand-kiddies while I cleaned up some e-mail and tried to catch some news on the big TV set that the motel had afforded. Some of motels are now boasting 27” flat screen TV’s. Works for me!

The next day we awoke to a beautiful sunshiny Thursday morning. We didn’t have an abundance of pep so we elected to be rather ho-hum about packing the van and tracking down more coffee and OJ. No sense wrecking a good day off by working, I always say. Traffic was light, the weather was clear, the highway was dry, and the traffic was light. Perfect. We’re BOI.

Not long after noon we finally made it to “Old Kingsbury Aerodrome”. We immediately were greeted by the “ditch crew”. That would be Roger, Chris, and Steve Freeman, who were installing Chris’ water lines to his home-away-from-home trailer there at the airport. They were hip deep in a freshly dug water line trench that was being guarded by a backhoe. I guess a little Texas dirt never hurt a good family greeting.

It was great to see “the guys” again. This was the first time almost three years that Connie, Steve, Chris, and Roger had been together in one place. It was "hugs all around" and time to get caught up on things.

All of the driving and all of that ditch work sho’ nuff welled up an appetite in all parties present. So, at the behest of Rog’, the lead chow instructor who knows the ins and outs of the restaurants there, we headed out to nearby Seguin for lunch.

Seguin is a lovely smallish town about 35 minutes east of San Antonio. It’s a thriving city that is prospering quite well that I could see. It is noted for a number of things but I personally think it’s notable for the large “doorknob to Hell” water tower that rises high above this lovely prairie town with its abundance of restaurants and places to shop. You see a lot of these towers all over the country.

Roger had already staked out a super neat Chinese buffet (it would not be the last one we would visit). Since they all greeted him warmly I could see that he was no stranger. In fact, I'm wanting to say that we can blame Roger's slight Chinese accent on having fequented this place quit often.

This wonderful buffet had many of the common Chinese dishes but Connie and I were surely pleased to see a few that we had yet to try. It only took a few plates to bring our palate experiences rating up to date. The huge meal lasted us until the next huge meal that evening!

Wait, folks! There’s more! Don’t touch that dial and stay tuned for the next addition to the adventures of the sub-dynamic duo, Connie and Randy. We’ll update the Roost as soon as we can.