Welcome To The Bullpen
FLY’N HIGH
Jim Liles
Now and then, we had a chance,
to leave the truck at home.
To rodeo without the drive,
that wears you to the bone.
It’s not so hard, to complete this feat,
if your nerves are made of steel.
But listen boys, to this tale,
then tell me, how ya feel.
We knew a guy, who’s name was Jeff,
he wanted so to fly.
Those lessons, for a private plane,
why they’re are just too high.
But with his friendly, bankers help,
within a month or so,
he had his license, firm in hand,
and he was set to go.
He looked for ways, to log some hours,
and that’s where we came in.
Seems a local flyin’ club,
was just plum broke, back then.
No money, for the maintenance fee,
and that friends ain’t no joke.
There’s lots of things, they didn’t do,
and things, we didn’t know.
To rent that plane, for a couple a days,
was a very nominal fee.
Why we jumped in, with both front feet,
how scary could it be?
We headed for, the airport now,
our new pilot close in tow.
He could log, some needed hours
and we could rodeo.
The plane was gassed, and set to go,
she was loaded full, with gear.
Three cowboys, and a pilot,
and just a couple of beers.
We all jumped in, and fastened down,
all smile’n, from ear to ear.
We were all, set to go,
get this dang thing in the air.
He checked and checked, hell I’s impressed,
by the list that he had checked.
Now he tried, to start the thing,
and it just went click, click.
It seems the battery, was a little low,
our hearts, sank into a pit.
Now Jeff said, not to worry boys,
a jump is what we will get.
I’ll call for a tow, or a battery you know,
and we’ll soon, be on our way.
Sure nuff, a jumps what we got,
boys now we’re makin’ hay!
And that’s when things, got interesting,
and Brad, was in a fright.
The trim tabs, they’re that tricky part,
that makes the plane fly right.
Level out and fly plum flat,
with it’s nose not in the air.
It seems, those silly things don’t work,
and the pilot he don’t care.
Now Jeff he says, not to fear,
we’ll make it there just fine.
But Brad, well he’s just not real sure,
our pilots wrapped real tight.
So I asked Jeff, now tell me son,
what other things don’t work.
He says the gas gauge, has a glitch,
Brad shuttered with a jerk.
He has a little, kitchen thing,
set up there on the dash.
when it goes off, he switches tanks,
to balance out the gas.
The plain shut down, in mid air once,
it seems, that Jeff forgot,
to switch from one tank, to the next,
and Brads heart, plum near stopped.
By the time we get, to Folsom Town,
old Brad, why he’s scared stiff.
He would just as soon, walk back home,
than climb in that plane with Jeff.
A battery jump, was what it took,
to get us in the air.
And Brad, he kicked and screamed and yelled,
he wanted, to just stay there.
Soon we had, to land for gas,
just where I’m not real sure.
We landed and we fueled the plane,
and Brad, he wasn’t there.
He’d wandered off, and found a lounge,
and that is where he sat.
A beer he said, then I’ll call a cab
and a bus, I’ll take on back.
It took two hours, and a bunch of beer,
to get Brad on that plane,
All we heard, the whole way back,
was Brad, as he complained.
We made it back, all safe and sound,
and another trip we planned.
Except for Brad, who said “hell no”,
I’ll never fly again!
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