My closest shave to wrecking happened on a quiet, beautiful, dead still Floriduh morning. I was doing touch-and-goes at the uncontrolled Boca Raton Airplane Patch. Had done about four or so, and a fargin 4-engined humongumous military transport plane gets in the pattern.
No big thing, but it was tres unusual for a military plane to land on this ex-military (WWII) runway nowadays. I really thought it was kewl, as I was on my downwind leg in 51Hotel the Spam Can, and could watch it coming.
I turned base leg as the monster bird approached, rapt at the sight of it, with flaps as large as my whole fargin plane. The freight train lumbered by, and I turned and followed.
It was traveling faster than I was, of course. The landing speed in a single-occupant Cessna 152 is a measly 46MPH. So he was in no way (HAH!) in my path as I approached the runway.
I forgot about the hurricanes made by big aerioplane thingies...
I was twelve feet above the runway when the nose of the Spam Can just... dropped.
Like in, a vacuum. Which it sorta was. The instant angle was so steep, I do not know to this day how the prop did not hit the runway.
But the front wheel took every bit of the weight of the entire airplane... and bounced it back up for a damned shaky landing. No damage at all.
Except for the washers bitten out of the pilot's seat by my ass-hole.
While I was still working on my hours, I arrived at the airfield to find the windsock stiff and erratic, so I called my instructor and asked him if he thought I was OK to fly in blustery weather such as we were experiencing, and haven awaken from a nap, stepped outside and noted light breeze at his location, so told me to go ahead.
As soon as I lifted off and instantly crabbed, I knew I was in over my head and made the decision to make as many go arounds as it took to get it back on the ground in one piece, but that once I got it there I was going to park it. Interestingly about the time I lifted off, my instructor called back with untimely second thoughts and misgivings.
On the first pass it bucked and snorted all the away around and on final just as I passed the threshold I caught a gust that stood me on one wing tip. I instantly firewalled the throttle, stomped the rutter, cranked the wheel, and pushed the yoke forward out of trained instinct, and the 150 straightened and flared at about 10', so I cut the throttle and greased it in.
After taxiing back and parking the plane, I stepped out to tie it down, and my knees collapsed so that I fell on my butt.
Merry Frieday brothers and sisters! 60F @ 73% RH, cloudy and predicted to reach 64F.
I finished my stash box detail and am working on lid designs. Our dining table has an inlay pattern that I like and am trying to duplicate.
Breakfast out at Milo's this morning with Grayfox and NM.