As Chief Flight Instructor of our flight school one of the responsibilities is to perform new engine break‑in flights. Recently, in preparation for the first flight on a newly installed remanufactured engine, I texted the tower chief with a brief explanation of what the mechanic and I wanted to do. We were going to fly a racetrack pattern within three miles of the runway at 2000 feet AGL so that we’d be in gliding distance at all times just in case something went wrong.
Reminds me of a story I heard long ago from a old freight hauler. One flight in the wee hours of the moring, with long intervals of silence on the radio, a tired-sounding voice interrupted the stillness:
UNKNOWN: Yaaaaaaawn… I’m #$%&ing bored…
CONTROLLER: Station broadcasting, this frequency is designated for air traffic control. Identify yourself!
–Brief silence–
UNKNOWN: I said I was #$%&ing bored, not #$%&ing stupid.
And you remind me of a story about nude sunbathers caught in the act by a boat passing along the river. The young people all race to cover their privates, but the old guy just covers his face.