Skip Rhudy

words and random recipes for fun


After finding a core for my Corvair CH750 project out at the junkyard, where I sweated in the September heat and was scratched all over by thorny brush, I headed over to the Pioneer Flight Museum, twelve minutes away from my house: Old Kingsbury Aerodrome. It happened to be volunteer day and I met a guy, Steve, who had a Wagabond with a Corvair motor in it. He showed me around, then pointed down the airstrip toward the south end. There was a Pietenpol down there lying against the trees and ground, nose pointed vaguely our way — broken.

“Engine out”, Steve said. It had just happened while I was at the junkyard.

I had been taking a lot of pictures, but I didn’t whip out my phone for that one. We looked at the wreck for a few moments longer. It seemed far away. But it was very much in my face. The pilot had been carted by ambulance over to Guadalupe Regional Medical Center in Seguin. Alive but pretty busted up.