Many thanks to those who wrote and said they missed my column, some even asking if everything was OK. I'm happy to be back, and things are more than OK, they're great! For the personal, non-column stuff, please see the sidebar below on the right.On rare occasions in my career I've been in a small group of pilots who, usually under some evil influence, and only after swearing each other to silence forever, begin relating the dumbest things they've ever done in or around airplanes. I don't drink, but somehow it has become traditional for me to have a Margarita at "Polo's" on the Saturday evening of the seminar in Ada. After that, George, Walter and I "debrief" at George's house: They use some weird substance called "Bookers," while I try to sober up from the Margarita with Diet Coke. Somehow the subject of gear-up landings of the inadvertent kind came up during one of these sessions, and it was probably the Margarita that prompted me to tell the story of how I once came very, very close to being the only person to land a 747 with the gear up. They both suggested it would be a most appropriate way to restart my Pelican's Perch column.Ever stand in a high place, unprotected (Grand Canyon, for example), and feel "The Pull?" There is an awe, an emptiness, an attraction that seemingly beckons, pulling one ever closer to the edge of the abyss. It is not fear, for fear keeps most people well away from such places. It is a feeling, a numbness in the mind (must be like skydiving), a little voice back there that says, "Come closer, closer." No, I'm not suicidal, and I'm not going to succumb. But I know the feeling.That's the precise feeling I get when the subject of inadvertent gear-up landings comes up.Never one to get to the point when my fingers are talking, a little history ...
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://www.avweb.com/features/pelicans-perch-80-gear-up-landing-in-a-747