Pickering motioned for him to sit in the second seat in the cockpit. It was George Hart's first visit to a cockpit and he found the array of dials and levers and controls both fascinating and intimidating.
Pickering showed him how to fasten the lap and shoulder mess, and then handed him a set of earphones.
"The intercom button, I just found out," Pickering's metallic voice came over the earphones, "is that little button on the side of the microphone. Can you hear me?" Hart looked at Pickering and saw he had a microphone in his hand. And then Pickering pointed to a second microphone beside Hart. Hart had finally found something recognizable.
The microphone was essentially identical to the ones in Saint Louis police cars.
"What do you mean, you just found out?"
"I never sat up here before," Pickering said.
Bullshit!
There was a popping sound, and then Pickering's voice.
"Frisco Ground Control, Beech Two Oh Oh on the Lewis ramp."
"Beech Two Oh Oh, go ahead."
"Request taxi instructions to box my compass." What the hell does that mean?
"Beech Two Oh Oh is cleared via taxiway one three right to the threshold area of runway one three."
"Roger, thank you," Pickering's voice came over the earphones.
"Understand threshold area of one three. One three moving and clear."
Hart watched with fascination as Pickering released the brakes, advanced the throttle, and the airplane began to move.
He pressed his mike button.
"Where are we going?" There was another pop in the earphones.
"Aircraft calling Ground Control, say again."
"George," Pickering said, "don't talk into the intercom until I tell you you can. You are worrying Ground Control." Hart nodded. He had just revealed his enormous ignorance, and it humiliated him.
They taxied a long way to the end of the field. As they neared it, a United Airlines DC-3 came in for a landing. Hart found that fascinating.
He also found Pickering's next act fascinating. He moved the airplane to the center of a large concrete area and carefully jockeyed it into position. He then fiddled somehow with the compass. Then he moved the airplane again, and fiddled with the compass again, and then repeated the process.
"As you can see, I have now boxed the compass," he said.
Hart didn't reply.
"You may express your admiration, we're on intercom," Pickering said.
"I'm impressed. Now what?"
"I am debating whether or not I can fly this thing," Pickering said.
"How would you like a little ride, George?"
"What do you mean, whether or not you can fly this thing?"
"I told you. This is my first time sitting up here." Bullshit. He's pulling my leg.
"I have faith in a fellow Marine," Hart replied.
"How can I resist a challenge like that? Now shut up, George. We are going to talk to the tower." There was another pop in the earphones.
"Frisco tower, Beech Two Oh Oh on the threshold of one three for takeoff." Jesus, he is going to take me for a ride!
"Beech Two Oh Oh, what is your destination?"
"Couple of times around the pattern. Test flight."
"Beech Two Oh Oh, you are advised you are required to have a departure authorization."
"It's supposed to be there. You don't have it?" There was a long break.
"Beech Two Oh Oh. You are cleared as number one to take off on one three. The altimeter is two niner niner niner. Winds are negligible."
"Roger, Two Oh Oh rolling," Pickering said and moved the throttle forward.
He lined the airplane up with the center of the runway and pushed the throttle all the way forward.
The Beech quickly picked up speed, and a moment later the rumbling of the landing gear disappeared.
"Beech Two Oh Oh. We don't have your departure clearance."
"Frisco, say again, you are garbled."
"Beech Two Oh Oh, we do not, I say again, we do not have a departure clearance. You are directed to land immediately.
You are cleared as number one to land on runway one three."
"Frisco, say again, you are garbled." There was another pop in the earphones.
"George, you may now express your admiration for that splendid virginal takeoff."
"What the hell was the tower saying to you?"
"Essentially, it means I don't think we ought to go back there," Pickering said. "I think they take their departure clearances, whatever the hell that means, very seriously."
"Meaning you don't have one?"