It never came, but by the time I neared French Valley it was clear that the quartering tailwind was creating a headwind component, and the fuel gauge (which is not quite as accurate as the old "wire thru the gas cap" type, but more accurate than any Cessna gauge) was already bouncing around on the low side of 1/4 tank, occasionally hitting "0" . So I decided to drop in at French Valley and get my new friend a nice drink of 100LL.
Made a better landing there, despite the fairly strong xwind component, and taxiied smartly to the self-serve pump, swiveling around to line up behind another plane that was still fueling.
As I shut her down and started limbing out, I inadvertently tapped the right brake pedal and noticed it didn't feel right. There was no resistance. I worked the left one, looking out at the wheel, and could see the cable easily moving the arm on the old Bendix drum. But the right one was not working, even though the cable was still attached, and the wheel moved easily enough. I puzzle over this for a minute or two, then decided to fill up first then look at it some more, as the other plane was pulling away, and a Bonanza was approaching the pump.
It was here that I learned another valuable taildragger lesson. I got the static line hooked up, swiped my credit card, and was about to drag the hose over to the Champ when the wind suddenly gusted, and that tail, which was broadside to the wind when I parked, started swinging. Straight for the nose of the idling Bonanza!! :o
I laid the hose down and leaped for the tail of the Champ, grabbing it just in time, it seemed. As it turned out, there was enough room to swing her around so the nose was into the wind, but boy did that give me a scare...
After refueling, I pushed 70E over to the nearest tiedown, and decided to call the school and see if Tom, the mechanic (and owner) could advise me on the bum brake.
Claudette, one of the CFIs, answered the phone, an said she'd have him call me right back.
Presently some guy drove up and advised me to get the Champ out of its current spot-which belonged to the flight school- and into the transient parking area right across the taxiway. D'oh. ::)
I was just getting ready to walk her over there when Tom called. He suggested I use a drop of oil from the dipstick.
No go. I could just... barely move the lever on the brake with my hand, but it was tough going. the left one was easy to move.
"So... what do you think?" he asked.
The brake seemed stuck open: the plane rolled easily, as usual. I could imagine rolling out and getting stopped safely at Brown without both brakes... seemed do-able. I could even see taking off with the right one dragging, if it was actually closed slightly... with just me aboard, it could take off in about 200 feet, with this wind.
But what if it suddenly jammed up? What if it stayed open, but I needed it for some reason... really needed it?
"I don't know what it will do," I told him, "and that bothers me. I don't wanna do anything stupid."
"Yup."
"So... I don't know..."
- I was trying to ask for a ride home.
I was entitled, but it wouldn't be right to demand it... protocols, and all that."Well... I'll see if Claudette can come up and get you... I'll have her call you."
I double-checked 70E's tiedowns, gave her a good post-flight inspection, and packed up my stuff. Walked down to the terminal for a smoke, walked back, took some pictures, then back to the terminal to get something to drink. My phone rang. It was Claudette.
"I'm preflighting now; so I'll get there in however long it takes me to get there."
Back to the plane, played with the brake some more, pouted, then settled down on the left tire, in the shade of that beautiful wooden wing, and did some more spotting, with my new handheld tuned to the CTAF for the Cessna's N-number.
Took her a long time, it seemed... I figured she was up with a student, and wanted to get some stuff done before picking me up. I felt a little guilty barging in on someone's lesson.
But when she taxiied onto the ramp, I could see she was alone. Her student had cancelled. So I became the student, and the flight home became an easy rental checkout, on the house.
It was very odd flying a C172 again... felt like an airliner after so many weekends with the Champ. The PTT on my side was inop; I have a spare in my bag, but decided not to mention it. C. cleverly had me try the PTT anyway, probably to see how I was on comms.
She got a Class B transit, and we popped up to 5500. Saw some hot-air balloons to the west as we made our way along in the late-afternoon glare, and C. and I had a nice chat as I decided I liked this particular Skyhawk.
But I noticed I was uncoordinated often- to the left. Even in a climb, the Champ does not require much right rudder. I was forgetting how to fly trikes... not a bad thing, really.
The sun was a problem as I landed at Brown- a bit off-center.
But it was an excellent day... everything balanced out.
