Journeys to Oshkosh
30 Years and Counting
In 1977 I started flying again and received my private license. At that time the pilots at Lawrence Municipal Airport were a very close group equally dedicated to both flying and partying. In fact, this was the beginning of the best 10 years of my life.
But in one way the boys did let me down. Every year the whole group said we would go to Oshkosh and every year they all bailed. So in July of 1980, I said “screw it, ”booked a flight, landing at Oshkosh just in time for the Saturday airshow. In fact, as I walked to the airshow centerline the first performers began. It was like “Dick’s here, warbirds go!” It was the beginning of a two-day high that any hippie would have envied.
I had no place to stay. With just my camera equipment and my sleeping bag, I slept in the grass at the camping area, no tent. Luckily when it started to rain the couple in the RV that almost ran me over in my sleep, gave me shelter.
1982 was the first time I flew into Oshkosh in a light plane. I was in the back seat of a 172 on final approach, a WW11 Wildcat pilot in the left seat and my good friend Mark in the right. Looking out the window I yelled, “we’re landing on the taxiway”. At an altitude of 50ft. Frank immediately made a skidding left turn and plopped onto the runway. I know what you’re going to say. The taxiways are always used for landings at Oshkosh. But not two days before the show, and not in front of the warbird area.
In 84 I flew to Oshkosh in a Piper Arrow with Lou, then an impoverished flight instructor, now a senior captain for FedEx. I flew the leg between Flint Michigan and Oshkosh in between isolated thunderstorms, the vsi pegged out at 1000fpm up and down. Lou said, ”Dick you’re over controlling, I’ll take it.” Five minutes later, our skulls hitting the headliner Lou recanted “Dick, I guess you weren’t over controlling, lets divert to Green Bay.” Now, I have a very high-pitched voice, but when I said “sounds good,” I think only dogs could hear it.
At Oshkosh 85 I flew with Joe in his Stinson 108-2. The year before the Stinson was in a field with squirrels in the fuselage, and hornets in the wings.
In the last fifteen years, I’ve made Oshkosh 14 times. Why go so often? Because, if you love aviation every year is a surprise. My first year I walked up to a Douglas A20 Havoc, hanging in the bomb-bay were two motorcycles. One year the Concorde. Another year a Boeing 307 five days before it went to the Smithsonian. I got to talk to Frank Borman, in front of his P63 King Cobra. A Lockheed P38 in pieces under a tent one year. Ten years later the same P38 making a pass down the runway.
Oshkosh. It’s the world’s best toy store, it’s Disneyland, it’s Mecca. But most important it’s a pilgrimage not to be missed.