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In May 1981 I was 25 years old. My soon to be best friend for life, and I, both freshmen pilots, decided to fly to the Indy 500 which was only 650 miles away. We did all the preplanning, rented a Piper Warrior, checked weather forecasts three times daily, and it did not look good, so we didn’t tell many we were going. Our hopes were not that high, so we didn’t even try to buy any tickets.
In 1981, my friend and I rented a Piper Warrior and flew 650 miles to the Indy 500.
Friday before the race my father came over to make sure I was going to be at dinner on Sunday because my entire family and relatives were coming. I broke the news that Frank and I were planning on going to a car race. Dad said the only race on Sunday is the Indy 500; I wanted to smile but I knew better. Dad asked, “How are you going to get there, fly!?” He tried to make me feel guilty letting me know how disappointed my mother would be, but this was not the first time I disappointed her…or the last.
Frank and I flew out of Grand Island, Nebraska early Saturday morning and the weather looked good to Omaha. Before taking off, I called Bart, my college roommate in Omaha, and asked him to look out the window and tell me how far he could see. He replied that it was cloudy but that he could see for miles. He figured we might be headed to the Indy 500 and even asked if there was room for another. Without hesitation, I told him to meet us at the airport in two hours with money, a sleeping bag, and more money.
We landed at Omaha Eppley Airport to kidnap Bart, at least that was the story he was going to tell his mother when we got back. We met some others in Omaha who were excited and were going to the race too. A twin took off before us and soon disappeared into the clouds. Once airborne, ATC asked if we could see a radio tower ahead to our left as the visibility was low but still VFR. He said the tower was about two miles out and if we didn’t see ALL of it, we should return. With flight following, they vectored us south almost to Kansas City explaining that south was the new east and the best way to get to the race VFR. The VOR was useless, so I was now flying IFD (I Follow Directions) zig zagging across the country getting new vectors from time to time. I was advised to just follow the light area in the clouds above us also.
Just as ATC said almost three hours later, the sky opened to a warm bright sunny day, coming out the other side we wanted to land to get fuel. ATC said if you land now that storm you just flew under will be on top of that airport and asked if we could make it another 50 miles to give time to fuel and get back in the air.
There was a small storm cloud straight ahead with lighting. ATC was busy with other planes still in and under the weather behind us and asked if we could resume our own navigation. Responding yes, we continued but we were low on fuel, so we were going to hug the next storm even with a risk of lighting. As we approached the small cloud, Frank said we were too close, seeing no sign of lighting at all. Just then, the sun went dark as the brightest, wide, jagged bolt flashed which looked like it went just past our right-wing tip. The sound and the flash were instant. Frank turned to look at me wide eyed and didn’t or couldn’t say a word as I banked left.
Back in the clear air at 7,500 feet, we were sure nothing more could surprise us, but soon after, what looked like a small twig just floating in the air, hit the windscreen and yellow guts splattered. Bart came alive from the back seat and asked how that could happen. Explaining that mother nature just played a mean trick and took a grasshopper or large dragon fly for one heck of a ride up in heaven for a view of many corn fields and safe from speeding cars.
Seeing the Indy racetrack from the air was a young dream come true–we made it! Picking the airport close to the racetrack was smart but, in the excitement, we forgot to close said flight plan and we heard about that mistake when we landed back home.
After landing in Indy, we saw the twin that left ahead of us out of Omaha. I had to ask how their flight was in the clouds, thinking we had a better story than they did. He told us it was a flight they would never forget. He recounted that they had entered the clouds and leveled at 7,000 feet but the airplane started climbing at 500 FPM. He was sure they were flying down at a 60-degree angle at one point but could not stop the airplane from climbing. The up draft finally spit them out at 14,000 feet. Three of their passengers refused to fly back.
I wish we could tell you all the things we heard and saw before, during and after the race. I remember one wild guy from a not-too-distant planet giving free advice the night before the race. He informed us that we could do anything we wanted until 11pm because that’s when the police dogs come out. You can argue with a policeman, but you can’t argue with a dog.
On the morning of the race while eating breakfast at the Waffle House located near the short final flight path, flights were coming in on runways 23L and 23R, landing less than a minute apart. The number of people flying in to see the race was more than our home town population of Grand Island. What a parking problem they were having.
We brought a tent and sleeping bags as the Holiday Inn had rooms starting at $75 per night per person. Camping on the airport was fun and the cheapest room for 100 miles, and then the rain began. A lot of fun things on this trip went right, like getting great seats across from the pit area, yet a number of things that went wrong on this trip like sleeping half soaked in a small airplane after a thunderstorm.
Waking up just before dawn, we had standing water where our tent used to be. Departure told us if we didn’t leave in the next 20 minutes there would be no slots left as airplanes were loading and starting to line up. All we had to do was buckle up, taxi and take off. Looking back, the flight home was uneventful and even boring at some points. Landing in Champaign, Illinois for breakfast and fuel was the high point of the day.
A lot of years have passed, and we have never regretted that trip or all the changes we had to make on the fly to make it happen and get us there and back safe. We no longer fly towards bad weather; the bullet proof years were over long ago. If you are young and think you want to fly, please give it a try as what you learn will help you in life. Your world will get bigger and the world around you will get smaller. Go make memories you will never forget and take a friend along with you. The view from thin air is amazing. Many people and organizations are willing to help you fly safely.
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