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).