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The Little Brother That Pays The Way For The Big Brother
I retired from the airlines when I hit 60, and with 21½ thousand hours was a bit burned out. Our kids and grandkids are scattered to the far reaches of the Country and have never spent much time driving around the US, the last five years of road trips have been enjoyable though a bit time-consuming.
My wife and I live on a ranch on the northern end of the South Texas "brush country," and once a week a Maule comes past the house patroling a gas pipeline. My wife was leaving on a Friday to visit family in Houston for a couple of days. While we were saying good-bye at the car, the patrol plane flew by. I told her, "I would like doing that again." She replied, "I think you should."
On Sunday, my dog ran the 400-yards out to the highway and back for the paper, and as I sat down to read it, I looked at the classified as you never know what farm and ranch stuff might be for sale. What caught my attention was an ad looking for a part-time pipeline patrol pilot in my area. In that it was Sunday, I waited to call the number until 8:00, and when I did, things moved quickly given my experience in the field at the start of my aviation career. A day or two later, when my wife drove up, I said: "guess what?" Of course, she had no clue but was surprised at how things came together so suddenly. That now was eleven months ago and in the back of my mind was that this work would fund a personal airplane for our travel needs.
I fly a C172, inspecting about 1200 wells and their flow lines two mornings a week. I have an airplane dedicated to the task and handle all the arrangements for it as well. Yesterday, I happened to catch both on the ramp at the same time.
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