turboplanner

Think we've frenched Le Capitaine out..

Good luck, you'll be an Ace!

Your post will be good material for the guys who have done all their navs in calm conditions and arrived exactly on time and exactly over the destination.

I've been over the area you had difficulty with, and found it could do with a few more features.

The GPS.....I would be doing a re-run at home, and practicing up on the wheel, the map reading, method of correcting drift etc. This problem is if you get a flat battery, or the GPS has some of the glitches mentioned in this forum, you're on the slippery slide to running out of fuel before you find somewhere friendly.

I understood Ballarat had a super accurate navigation course which also could be a good investment.

Bad luck about the weather though, you've had to do it hard.

Thanks Tony, great teaching.

Good on you Doug, right on the ball! Congratulations, this type of thinking is what is making RAA the great organization it is!

A oui, mais le froggy whine est la Humber Snipe diff.

Le Jabbie en flien faster et with less noiuseau dans le stollandonacowpat n'est ce pas?

Got in to Ballarat? airport, flying with a Sukhoi, no control over ac, swerved off runway and landed up in a tree.

I get "Your version of Flight Simulayor does not match that of the host"??

Nylon needle? suggest replacing

Also suggest resetting float level to manufacturer's recommendation using vernier

Fuel pump? Does it's output pressure exceed the input capability of the float jet.

Gravity feed? Has the fuel tank been raised...too much pressure?

Corrosion in the needle chambers causing sticking?

derriere, le Chat is sitting en le matte, Comment vous?...

CraftyPete wasn't about to get caught out by DevousCrapper's crafty blind alleys, and in retaliation decided to expose one of Wagga Wagga's best kept secrets.

He explained that Bega Cheese were going to shoot a new sequence for their latest ad, and were all set to have Riverland Lass standing in front of the water tower saying "And Wagga Wagga doesn't have Wagga Waggas" when another outbreak occurred and they had to cancel the shoot.

The relos recoiled in horror when he told them tales of Wagga Waggas migrating into motel rooms and biting with the intensity of a bindii.

He was a bit concerned that HiHosIcanlandoacowpat had also put him in a squeeze and promised to come down there and see who really could land.

There was a strange noise from round the corner and into view came La Crepe.....

RiverlandMum just as one of Pete's relos said what's this on the Computer Pete?....

..his voice was drowned out by the three desperate women as they all fell upon him at once. Le Crappo felt like all his Christmases had come at once - well for the first couple of hours anyway.

"Biker eh", thought Tubbo, as he remembered the speedway bikers who all either walked like a crab or held their arms at funny angles. "But they were tough" he thought as he remembered one night when a visiting International hit the wall and dislocated his shoulder. He was back out on the track for his next heat.

Tubbo thought he better be more careful, but realised Le Crappo didn't realise the mincing action was to shake the dust off the unmentionables.

By now the three women had their breath back and Le Crapper screamed .....

Tubboplaner had lapsed into dreamland again, and wondered how SkidsPete could land on a zac in a Jumperoo.

Tubbobraker himself could land a Warrior on a chicken turd without slipping off, but his experience with the Jumperoo had made him very familiar with every knot in every post in the fence at the end of the runway.

In fact it would not be an exaggeration to say that many of his short flights were shorter than the landing roll.

As he dreamed on, he thought of the Richerina where fat cats droves Lexcesses and it appears dallyed with Texcesses.

He heard the swish of a baseball bat as Le Cepe.....

see through the gap between the door and the door surround, ensuring all round vision?.... and did you know La Crapp flew a Texan?.....

OK old timer, you must be 102.

Multiply two pounds fourteen by two pounds fourteen?????

"And with a hauntingly familiar whizz, twirl, klump, Big 'nanas spun around and said...."

POOH! as the wind changed, and Boofer wished he had dragged the guts from the bullocks he’d butchered for the Barbeque a little further down the paddock, but the land Cruiser had run out of fuel, and what could you do.

However, the wind soon changed and brought with it the rumbling of a big V8; it was Tubboplaner who’d just arrived. He went straight to the drag race strip which he’d graded in the afternoon.

The drag race involved a B&S Ute towing a piece of corrugated iron attached by a length of No8 farmers friend. The corrugated iron was controlled by one of the girls, so just having a powerful engine wasn’t enough, you had to have a good grip who didn’t mind being covered in dust from the wheelspin, and getting ten thousand grass seeds down her dress, which the driver was required to pick out after the race.

It was originally the full 440 yards, but the tin became very hot towards the end of the strip, and Tubbo’s girlfriend, Annie Grime almost burnt her a*** off once getting to the line, so they shortened the ace to a hundred metres.

Her father kept asking for weeks what really happened – he just didn’t believe she was sitting on a sheet of corrugated iron.

The fliers were dumbstruck as the utes lined up in the staging area, a thousand aerials swaying in the rich breeze of bullock guts.

However there was a formality before the drag race, the Miss B&S competition was always held first because about now the beautiful gowns were about on their last legs, many having been discarded already, and not just to expose moleskins.

Big Bananas have WincingPete a big squeeze, and he reached out for Le Crap, but he in turn had been spotted by banana’s cousin, who was even bigger, and was fighting a losing battle.

Jabba had been sitting on the ground open mouthed “This isn’t QUEENSLAND! he said, and no one disagreed.

MusicMerv, MusicMerv! The fliers cried…

Still beats dagging sheep though, doesn't it

Ah, duck shooting out of season!

Tub planter, to le Crap, who had become deeply involved in deep meanings about deep things, ignoring the general alert to MusicMerv to get involved before the story starts in on Roadranger tuggers, "but your luck is about to change."

It was now about 2 am and the party started to slow down as they all got into some serious drinking and made themselves comfortable. About 20 guys and gals ha climbed up on to the corrugated iron roof of the Tote…which was supported by four dead Gidgee tree trunks. There was a loud crack, one side gave way and they all slid down on to the lawn, which being at Pooncarrie was full of bindiis. The result entertained everyone of half an hour or so.

Just then from out on the flat came the roar of an engine, and in the eerie glow of the fire from the red gum, and the Jacksons hay shed, where it had landed, rose an enormous cloud of dust and an eerie sound “DOOF doof, doof DOOF, doof doof” it went

“That’s the Utes working” said Big bananas as she sidled up to ApprehensivePete who’d stepped too close to the bull ring where the girls were drinking stubbies and talking. “I like you” she said and ApprehensivePete made a desperate grab for Slarti's hand, but he was too late – she had him in her vicelike grip.

The road continued, the dust rose in a circle and in he middle of it they could see couples walking hand in had, four guys drinking stubbies and three girls doing handstands.

Round and round it went and the dust went higher.

Suddenly Horlocks, who everyone thought had been left behind, but had stowed away in the long fuselage of the Jabiru 230, and who for years would be telling people about the way the rudder hinges squeaked, the ailerons banged, the fuel tank sloshed and every time the elevator cable came back it would pick up the trim control, listened more carefully to the doof doof music and recognised Dire Straits. “It couldn’t be” he thought, but unfortunately it was, and spinning out of he mist came the Green Sheeta of BigWiggle, who was busy trying to get a compass reading.

The B&S group didn’t see the funny side of this at all and advanced on BigWiggle who quickly ran to the rest of the guys who hid behind Big Bananas.

She in turn was holding on grimly to WincingPete by the ….

What's a plank? I thought they were flying wings and have ventured into " No planks here" groups with the Mustang on Multiplayer without being kicked off but I'm not sure how close I am to the borderline.

Tubplanter at this staqge was giving nothing away....

Jabba flung the Starlet into a sideslip and in the light of the flying red gum landed out in the centre of the race track, quickly followed by Ho Ho and Musical Merv who’d risen to the Horlocks bait and decided to pick up HitcharidePete enroute but drew the line at allowing him into a Jabiru.

So Horlocks responded by phoning Startifarti who had recently been very arty and was now looking for a party. They landed in quick succession to the bemusement of the B&S community which was usually members only if you don’t count Bigwiggle.

In fact on this occasion the story was going around that Bigwiggle had overflown Australia because there were no features and finished up in Africa where he was captured by savages. “We’re gonna cook you and eat you and make a canoe outa your skin” smirked the Chief.

Some time later as the pot was coming to the boil and BigWiggle was looking as if he’d prefer t be flying over Mt Baw Baw the Chief noticed that he was stabbing himself with a fork. “What you doing!?” asked the Chief. “So much for your frigging canoe” replied BigWiggle.

The night wore on with twenty dinner suited waiters doing the rounds and the crowd rapidly getting into stubby gait, until someone yelled “Time for the rodeo!”

The City guys looked around for the horses, but six ladies in evening dress stepped forward and flung off the dresses to reveal denim shirts, moleskins and RM boots.

They were all given names.

Riverland lass stepped forward and she was given the name Twin Peaks for two obvious reasons.

The betting then started in earnest and finally the Clerk of Course laid down the rules.

“Right guys, you have to stay on for ten seconds and you can only hold on to the bra strap; girls get down on your hands and knees!”

The Flyers stepped closer and PervertPete was positively salivating, but this was just clean country fun.

First girl up was Boots, who twisted onto her back faster than the human eye, drew her knees up to her chest and sank her RM’s right into the poor rider’s nuts. “He won’t be hay carting tomorrow sniggered one of the spectators and the fliers shrank back in alarm, and made for the barbeque area.

“What do you make of this?” whispered MusicalMerv whose eyes were still watering…

No....do they do that in Whyalla???

But FreeplonkGeoff wasn’t ready just yet, and decided a slower start might produce better results.

As he swirled Riverland lass around the dance floor he noticed two things; firstly no one else was swirling around the floor and secondly, he looked down he could swear he saw an RM toe under the silk dress of Riverland Lass.

Not having attended a B&S before, he must have had a surprised look on his face because she explained that the dance floor, her Sydney band and for that mater the marquee, all of which cost the various Batchelors around $10,000 were only there for the Cityslickers.

It was a B&S tradition around midnight to have a fireworks display and the batchelors had sited the Marquee near a giant but dead Red Gum (very rare on Pooncarrie) which was about 25 metres high.

Boofer had drained the diesel from his Chamberlain about 10 pm and there was now a roaring fire going up centre and out the hollow limbs. There’d been a few squeals when some possums abandoned ship, but there’d been solid entertainment for an hour when a feral cat came scorching down the tree, saw the various dogs waiting expectantly around the base of the tree and doubled back, but just as the dogs thought they had it won, there was a fiery streak as he wild cat launched 20 metres above their heads and landed in heavy scrub well past the dogs, starting a small bushfire as he ran through the brush.

For the fireworks display the batchelors had discussed getting a professional in, but Boofer said he’d take care of it, and keeping out of sight of the crowd he carefully carried his bag of Nitroprill to the base of the tree, dug a hole, lit the fuse and nonchalantly walked back to the assembled guests zipping up his fly.

The guests had been told to expect a fireworks display, but no one could have predicted what happened next.

There was a sharp jolt, and everyone temporarily lost their footing, and this was followed by a gigantic BANG, which in turn was followed by 45 tonnes of red gum launching skywards trailing fire like a Redstone rocket.

Just then there was a flash of yellow as Jabba the Hut steering his Corbet Startle at exactly 120 feet over the party.

The red gum had reached 119 feet....