Twenty-five year old engine mechanic Billy Martin was bent over half buried in the engine compartment of the Piper Cub sitting inside the hanger. Moments ago he’d shut off the engine and detached the last of the diagnostic equipment that encircled him. He’d finished the overhaul to within manufacturer’s specifications more than an hour ago, but now he had to go the extra mile. Before this plane could go back to its owner, it had to pass the scrutiny of Rick Schaffer.
For almost ten years now, Billy had been coming out to Morton field to watch and learn about planes. While his friends tinkered with cars, he spent every hour he could around planes and eventually learned to fly. He also became intensely interested in aircraft maintenance.
He had met Rick when he took an after school job in Morton field’s maintenance department. Mostly just changing aircraft fluids, charging batteries and making sure that the tire pressure was correct, but it was a start. Rick was the only mechanic at the field, and he was too busy with overhauls and tune-ups to worry about the light work.
Like everyone else, Billy thought Rick was pretty strange and at first, he kept his distance from him whenever possible. Then after talking to all the owners of the planes, Billy found out that no matter how crazy people thought he was, they wouldn’t trust their aircraft to anyone but Rick. Billy decided then that he wanted to learn what Rick did to deserve such a good reputation.
Billy made it a point of paying attention to Rick and asking him questions. Rick was reserved at first, but found that he enjoyed teaching what he knew. After a few months they became good friends and realized that they were essentially kindred spirits. They shared the same passion– they both lived and breathed airplanes.
Billy quickly learned that no matter what the engine type, piston or gas-turbine, jet or propeller driven, Rick was a master. He had almost a mystic sense about what was going on inside an engine. Every time a plane came in for work, Billy watched as Rick walked around it as it ran.
Rick put his hands all over the engine feeling for temperature differences. He’d take a quarter from his pocket and touch it to different places on the engine feeling for vibration. Taking a screwdriver, he’d placed the end on the piston valves and the handle to his ear in order to listen to the valve opening and closing in its housing. He’d smell the exhaust for proper burn and even taste the used engine oil to detect abnormal wear of the metal.
Billy had heard that the Renaissance painters where known for being slightly eccentric, but people ignored their strange ways because of the quality of work they produced. Was it out of the question to think that in his own way, Rick was an artist as well? Billy chose to ignore the way Rick talked to himself or the times when he would start screaming for no apparent reason. These episodes didn’t happen very often and Rick was never violent, so Billy decided it was none of his business.
A while back, in order to satisfy some new Federal regulation, the insurance company required the field to purchase a large number of high tech diagnostic analyzers. Rick refused to participate in the training program.
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” he said as he thumbed his nose at the technology.
Billy, on the other hand, jumped at the chance to learn how to use the new tools. After all, there had to be better ways to test for engine wear than to dab some oil on your tongue. He tried without success to change Rick’s mind.
“A new era in engine maintenance is knocking on the door,” Billy argued. “If you don’t learn the new technology, it’ll leave you behind.”
His warning fell on deaf ears, so Billy went to the training course alone. In the class the engineers and scientists told him that the human senses were no match for the accuracy of the new computerized electronic sensors. He learned everything he could about thermography, vibration sensors, emissions detectors, and oil analysis. He studied and practiced intently until he passed with flying colors.
A couple of months later he returned to Morton Field with a new level of excitement and energy. Eager to show Rick what he’d learned, Billy immediately set up his precision equipment on the first plane that came in and proceeded to tune up the engine.
“All finished.” Billy reported proudly.
“Are you sure?” Rick asked him skeptically.
With a questioning look, Billy watched Rick take his usual slow stroll around the plane. After his normal hands on routine, Rick grabbed a torque wrench from the box. “I found your problem.”
Billy didn’t realize he had one, but watched Rick do his magic.
“The torque on the heads is too tight.” Rick replied as he made a few adjustments. “There, that should do it.”
Billy hooked his analyzers back up and sure enough they showed that the engine ran smoother than it had just a few minutes ago. He couldn’t help but ask Rick how he’d done it.
“They will never come up with a machine to replace experience.” Rick replied with a chuckle.
From that day forward, Billy wanted to be as good as Rick when it came to hands on diagnosis. When a plane came in, Billy would first use the techniques taught to him by Rick. Then he’d hook up the electronic analyzers in order to fine tune his work. After that, Rick would check his work and make additional adjustments.
Billy had gotten better, but he knew he still had a lot to learn. He was now to the point where he almost matched the analyzers. However, Rick constantly out performed every computerized machine they had.
Billy was not only surprised by the tap on the shoulder, but worried as well. He knew that Rick was warned by the manager of Morton Field that he had to learn to use the analyzers, otherwise the field could lose its insurance.
Did someone finally complain? Billy wondered. Would Rick get fired? Or worse… could he be arrested? Billy didn’t know. Why else would they send a Federal Agent all the way out here?
“I’m looking for Richard Schaffer.” Alan repeated what he’d said just a moment earlier.
Just then, Billy heard the familiar drone of a Forest Service’s engine purring overhead. “That should be him, now.” he said, as he looked at the ceiling of the hanger.
Alan followed Billy to the front of the hanger, but stopped at the large doors as Billy continued on. As always, Billy liked to watch Rick come in for a landing. As the white plane with the red stripe banked in and made its approach, his eyes followed its path.
It was a nice day, so Billy knew Rick wouldn’t have a problem finding the mark. A perfectionist, Rick had put a marker on the runway to aim for during landings. Even during the worst of weather, Billy had never seen Rick miss the mark by more than a foot.
This time was no different. As the slight whiff of smoke came up from the tires hitting the runway, Billy could see they’d hit exactly dead center of the mark.
He smiled and shook his head in awe. Was there anything about planes and flying that this man didn’t know? he wondered.
Rick turned the plane at the end of the runway, taxied up in front of the hanger, and shut off the engines. Billy was ready with a pair of wheel chocks, which he put in place before Rick could step out of the cockpit.
“Great landing!” Billy said with a smile.
“Thanks,” came the reply. “Fill her back up for me. The port engine is a little sluggish. I want to get her back up in the air and find out what’s causing it.”
“All right,” Billy said. “I’ve finished with the Cub. Maybe when you’re done you can have a look at it?”
“Sure thing.”
Billy was about to run off to get the fuel truck when he remembered Alan. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said as he looked towards the hanger. “There’s a Federal Agent here to see you.”
“For me?” Rick looked at him questioningly.
Billy shrugged his shoulders, then ran off in the direction of the fuel truck.
Rick curiously looked at the suit standing in front of the hanger doors, and hoped it wouldn’t take long. He’d been in the air for four hours and had
to pee like a racehorse!