"Well, let me see what is on that tape," he said
"I'm sorry again officer but I am unable to do that," I stated.
"Well then," he said. "I'm going to have to arrest you," he told me.
"Look officer," I sighed. "You are going to have to do whatever you feel you have to do but before you get too excited, will you please call this person."
I handed him the business card of the agent who I was working with and he retuned to his car with it. A couple of minutes later he returned, shaking his head.
"OK," he said, "You are free to go."
The very next day, I was a little late driving to my daughter's school to pick her up and was going too fast in a 20 mph zone. I heard a police siren and pulled over. It was the same two cops. They looked at me aghast.
"Oh no," said one of them. "Not you again. What name are you using today? It's a waste of time giving you a ticket. You'll probably just call someone and get it cancelled."
With that they got back into their patrol car and drove off. It was quite funny.
I was a pilot for many years. In my early flying years in the 60s I was living in Montreal, Canada. One day I decided to visit the US so took off from Dorval airport heading for Plattsburgh. I was flying a little wooden airplane called a Culver V which was made around 1942. The radio was very old and had only about six different frequencies. After I crossed the border, I called air traffic control and told them I was heading for Plattsburgh.
"Which airport are you heading to?" he enquired. "The municipal airport or the military base?"
I thought that he was giving me an alternative so asked him which one was nearest to the town.
"That's the military base," he informed me. I looked on the map and headed that way. Approaching the airport I was impressed by the huge size. I tried all the various frequencies that were in the radio but could get no response. I was getting close now so decided just to land, rocking the aircraft wings to indicate that I had no communication with them. As soon as I landed, a couple of jeeps came screaming over and I was surrounded by armed soldiers. An officer strode over to me and demanded my identification. I handed him my British passport. He sighed and shook his head, handing back the document to me.
"Look Son," he said brusquely, "This runway is about ten thousand feet long. You have used two thousand which leaves you eight thousand feet. Just keep going...and don't ever come back!"
Once when I was living in Florida, I was approached by the DEA. They asked me if I would play the part of a drug pilot, fly to Jamaica, load the plane with marijuana and fly back to the USA. They gave me a seized Piper Aztec belonging to the Palm Beach Police Department to use. I dutifully flew to Jamaica and reported to my contacts there. Unfortunately, the project had to be cancelled because there was a hurricane passing through there. I flew the aircraft back to Fort Lauderdale and reported to Customs. The officer came out to look at the airplane and noticed that it had several illegal extra gas tanks fitted.
"You can't fly an aircraft with these tanks!" he said sternly. This is totally illegal. We are going to have to seize the airplane!." What did I care: it wasn't mine. "You are going to have to do whatever you think," I told him nonchalantly. He returned to his office and returned with a large sticker bearing the words "Government seal. Do not break" Just as he was about to stick it across the door he was called back into the office. A couple of minutes later he returned with his jaw dropped. "We've been instructed to let you go," he muttered. "What exactly are you doing?" "Sorry," I told him. "I am on a secret mission." That got him thinking as I departed for West Palm Beach.
It doesn't matter how many flying hours experience you have, it's easy to screw up. One day I was flying my Piper Tripacer airplane. Every airplane has a compass in it. I had fitted a special electric one in this plane. It was located at the rear of the airplane to avoid any magnetic influences and had a remote indicator on the panel. Somehow, as I was flying south and adjusting the radio frequency I managed to hit the compass switch. So now the indicator was stuck on south. Approaching Fort Lauderdale, Florida I gave them my position and they gave me twenty four right as the landing runway. For those who don't know, the runway numbers are assigned by their magnetic headings so twenty four would be pointing to 240 degrees, almost west. When they gave me that runway I glanced at the compass which of course indicated south or 180 degrees. Immediately my brain calculated that 240 must be to my right. As I approached the airport I noticed something very strange. All the aircraft appeared to be going the wrong way! I turned away from the approach to think this out. I again looked at the compass not realizing that it was stuck and worked out everything again.
"These people are all crazy," I thought to myself. Suddenly the radio came to life.
"Eastern 614 hold position, Delta 456 hold short, National 364 negative, we have a Tripacer at two thousand feet and we are not sure what he's going to do next!"
"They're talking about me!" I realized. I saw some light aircraft circling below and just decided to follow them in. As soon as I landed, I glanced at the compass and realized what had happened. The radio came to life.
"Tripacer three five whiskey, congratulations, you have now carried out a successful landing on runway twenty four left. Unfortunately we gave you twenty four right. Will you please report to the control tower.
to be continue...
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