When I was thirteen years old I lived in Sioux City, Iowa. One weekend in the fall Dad took me across the Missouri River to South Sioux City, Nebraska, to watch the air show at the grand opening of the Tommy Martin Airport. It was a wonderful and exciting afternoon for me, there was a low level aerobatics performance in a T-Craft and then a thunderous demonstration by an AT-6 that was actually based at the airport. The afternoon began to go downhill for me though when some darn drunken farmer walked across the field and actually managed to get into a Piper Cub that just happened to have the engine running. The ground crew did their best to chase this guy down but somehow he managed to get into the air. I was terrified, I frantically began looking for a place to hide to avoid the inevitable terrible crash. I couldn’t understand why the rest of the family weren’t running for cover, especially my mother who was terrified of airplanes anyway. The farmer was down safely and the air show continued when it finally dawned on me that it was just another part of the show.

That winter, my friend, Dave Noble, and I would catch a ride out to Tommy Martin Airport on Wednesday nights to attend the free private pilot ground school. We would wander around the airport before class started and look at the Super Cub sprayers standing on their noses in the Quonset hangar and the T-Crafts, Champs, Ercoupes and Chiefs out on the line. The AT-6 was still there and a Navion was parked next to it. A little further down the line though, someone had parked a Cessna 195.

As I mentioned above, my mother was terrified of airplanes. I flew with her only once in a Piper Cub and right after take-off I could tell that she wanted to be back on the ground so I turned around and landed. It took great courage for her to get into the Cub. When I was 14 I had to sneak out to Tommy Martin’s because Mom grounded me from the airport until my grades in school improved. I knew that wasn’t likely to happen and I felt that even if they did, Mom would find another reason to keep me away from the airport so, I would go out every Saturday searching for leaves to add to my collection for a science project. I would have to take the bus out to South Sioux City because everybody knew that was where the best trees were located. I‘d get off the bus and walk the two miles to the airport and look for Tommy. I had $2.00 in my pocket and Tommy always took the time to give me a 20 minute lesson in the Champ or the Ercoupe. The lesson would go by all too quickly and then I would spend the rest of the afternoon listening to the pilots talk about their experiences. Needless to say my science grade did not improve.

The 195 was owned by a guy who ran a construction business and he had a contract in central Iowa. He would sit on the porch at the airport and talk about the virtues of that airplane all afternoon. It fit his purpose perfectly, every Monday he and his wife would hop in the Cessna and head east. If it was a clear morning sometimes I would see him fly by on my way to school. There were always pilots who would ask why he didn’t have a Bonanza or Navion but he was adamant that his 195 was the perfect airplane.

Not many people reading this would argue the point. The 195 is still the perfect airplane. There are several of the members of our 195 club who use their airplanes for business purposes today. It is just as reliable as the new aircraft coming out of the factory if she is properly maintained, and when you taxi up to the FBO you can take pride in not only having one of the most beautiful airplanes built but you also are preserving a classic aircraft.

My wife Charmian and I take great pride in being Cessna 195 owners. It is somewhat expensive to own one of these airplanes, but I feel that aviation has given so much to us that the least we can do is take care of this classic old bird until we’re ready to pass her on. In the seven years that Charmian and I have been traveling around in N8266R we have never regretted our decision to have one of these birds. We have met some of the most wonderful friends over the last few years through the 195 Club and look forward to any excuse to fly out for an event and spend more time with them.

When we park on the 195 line at Oshkosh or Sun-n-Fun we are always visited by 195ers from all part of the country and enjoy the easy friendship that surrounds this group. Sitting under the wing of a 195 at one of these events and watching the air shows and talking to friends is the highlight of our Summers. The best part, of course, is after the show when the crowd is about gone and the sun is beginning to set. The beer is cold and the wine is uncorked and the hardest decision to make is whether to have dinner at ACE’s or just go get another bratwurst across the taxiway. After dinner, pick a 195, there are 5 or 6 of them with lights hanging from the tie down ring on the right wing and anywhere from 5 to 25 people under the wing laughing and giggling about the almost ground loop or when someone finally admitted they were lost. The airplane stories and 195 stories told and retold every year get better and better. No one is ever called on how the story improved from last year and new tales may even improve from night to night. Think you don’t know anyone under this particular 195 wing? Well, just bring your own chair and maybe a bottle of brandy and sit down. You’ll find out your best friends and if they are part of the 195 group you’ll probably recognize some of the names from "hangar talk" on the 195 web site.

They’ll be interested in your side of the story so be ready to tell them all about where you and your bird are from and how you two became acquainted with each other.

We spent an entire winter at Hook’s Airport in Houston polishing and checking 66R so she would be ready for our first visit to Sun-n-Fun in Florida. I’d never been to either S-n-F or Oshkosh before, but now that we had a Cessna 195 nothing was going to keep us away. That was seven years ago and Charmian and I haven’t missed either event since then. For months I would talk to the locals about the event, asking when they were leaving and which route and altitude would be the best. I agonized a little about flying the arrival procedure into Lakeland, Florida but most people assured me that it wasn’t as big a deal as it looked on paper. We bought a new tent and aired out the sleeping bags and tried to prepare for the adventure as best we could. Our friend, Tom Hinckley, would fly out from SFO a few days ahead of our departure and ride with us. Tom and I met in the Air Force at Keesler AFB in 1967. I had just completed my first day on base and as I walked between the barracks I saw Tom packing a parachute. I knew where there were parachutes there would be airplanes and we immediately became friends. After almost 40 years we are still close and share out passion for aviation whenever possible.

I was on call the day we wanted to leave but usually could get released early if things were quiet at the airline. We were ready to go by 3:30 PM so we taxied out with Charmian in the front and Tom squeezed in the back among the tents, cooler, and sleeping bags. We had to stay north of the IAH class B airspace and below 2000 feet for the first 30 miles and for some reason just never bothered to climb above 1200 feet. Beaumont, Texas, passed underneath in about 30 minutes, then Lake Charles. Lafayette was off the right wing as the sun was getting low so we started making plans to find a place to stay for the night. East of Lafayette lies a massive bayou that stretches between the Atchafalaya and Mississippi River. There are no airports, cities, or roads along that stretch and I found myself flying over wilderness after dark, hoping that all the work on the 195 had been done properly. The old Jake kept up a steady beat all across the bayou and the lights of New Orleans began to become visible in the distance. We kept the Mississippi River to the left and finally saw the beacon for Saint John the Baptist Airport just south of the dike. I made a pass overhead and confirmed there was still a south wind and entered a left downwind. It always seems hard for me to get used to flying below 100 mph in the 195 after a couple of hours in cruise. It’s a lot quieter and the controls are more sluggish but I think what bothers me most is seeing the nose up high in front and the loss of visibility on the right side. I really have to concentrate to keep the wheel back and hold 85 or 90 mph until on final and then even slower as we approach the runway. We touched down with minimum excitement though and began taxiing to the ramp to find a place to tie down for the night . We like to just take off on trips like this with no particular overnight destination in mind but sometimes you can really get stuck if there is no one around to direct you where to go. We did find a tie down and unloaded the bare minimum we would need for the night and looked for some kind of life. The terminal was completely dark and obviously closed, but in the distance we could hear a faint sound of music and headed in that direction. As we rounded the T-hangars, sure enough, there was one lit up and several people were milling around for some special occasion.

Turns out that the owner of the hangar was getting everything gussied up for his daughters wedding on Saturday. We asked about hotels and found that the nearest one was 9 miles and in his best Cajun accent, Beaudrow (I’m not kidding) said he was just leaving and would drop us off. We piled our bags in the back of the pick up and headed to the Holiday Inn. Fried shrimp is always good but when you’re just outside of New Orleans, it tastes even better!

We had arranged for a taxi the next morning and just before sunrise he met us in the lobby and delivered us back to the 195. How do you describe a warm sunrise on the Mississippi River? The early morning mist hangs over the river and drifts out across the runway and is a variation of a hundred different shades of pink, red and yellow in the rising sun. The airplane is drenched in dew, dripping onto the pavement and the suns first rays are beginning to reflect off of her carefully polished aluminum and proud red nose. We pushed her over to the fuel pump and topped both tanks. A good weather report to the east and improving visibility convinced us that we were going to have another one of those days. The Jake started on the first blade after I selected the switch to Batt. and we were on our way again.

This time we headed south around the MSY class B and marveled at the activity and industry along the rivers and bayous. We followed the coast line up toward Gulfport and talked to the tower to let them know we were coming. Tom and I were anxious to fly past Keesler AFB for old times sake. GPT handed us off to Keesler tower and the controller cleared us along the coast through his airspace. As we neared the base I informed the tower that he was talking to two former airmen who used to be based at Keesler back in the 60’s and asked how thing were going. After a long pause he answered, "Well, NUTHINS changed!" Charmian looked up from the back seat and wondered what Tom and I were guffawing about. Biloxi Bay passed by and then Ocean Springs and we followed the old highway 90 past Pascagoula and into Alabama. I wanted to fly over Bayou La Batri and the Roy E Ray Airport where I had flown and jumped during my last couple of years in the Air Force. The grass strip was still there and looked like the airport had expanded into the old watermelon patch on the east side of the runway. We use to get a kick out of watching someone land at Ray Airport on a hot Saturday afternoon and instead of taxiing up to the grass ramp, they’d stop on the east side of the runway.

With the prop still turning the right door of the T-Craft or 172 or whatever airplane came in would fly open and someone would jump out and run into the watermelon patch, pick a good one and dive back into the airplane as the pilot gave her full power and took off downwind with their prize. No one really cared who it was or bothered to try to stop them, it was too much fun watching the show and, well nothing is better than fresh picked watermelon on a hot Alabama weekend. I ain’t sayin how I know.

We crossed Mobile Bay and contacted Pensacola NAS to get a clearance through their airspace and headed back east over the coast. It was a beautiful morning and the beach already had several people enjoying the day.

About 20 miles east of Pensacola I noticed a large round, dark spot about a hundred feet off the beach. As we got a little closer I saw that the spot was moving and changing shape from time to time and realized that it was a school of fish. There was a shark circling the school and every now and then he would turn into the fish and the round spot would collapse on itself and reform behind the shark. He did this several times while we flew by but even more ominous for the fish, we spotted four more sharks swimming in from the ocean to join in on the morning feast.

Pensacola handed us off to Elgin AFB and they vectored us out over the Gulf to avoid an arriving military jet and then told us to proceed on our own, VFR.

It was starting to get kind of hungry up there and it had been a couple of hours since New Orleans so we picked Panama City for our next stop and breakfast. The tower vectored us to final while Tom was flying but he didn’t want me to see his landing (it had been 15 years since Tom had sold his 195) after all this time so I gave him a break and made a perfect touchdown just to show him how to do it. I regretted doing that because he whined all the way to the ramp about how he used to be able to fly, back in the old days. In Tom’s defense, I did ride with him recently when he made a pretty decent landing in his 170. Once. We found our way to the terminal and ordered breakfast and watched all of the airplanes coming and going. It was obvious we were getting close to Sun-n-Fun. There were all kinds of airplanes stopping in for gas and food on their way to Lakeland. The FBO sent the fuel truck over and we topped off again. I was pouring MM into the tanks while Charmian cleaned the windshield and Tom was goofing off watching a Corsair do a 360 overhead and land. The Corsair parked right next to us and the pilot and his girlfriend climbed down off of the wing and gave us a friendly smile as they walked by. I walked over to the fueler to settle the bill but he said that it had already been paid by that other bald-headed guy. Tom had beat me to it this time.

Did I mention something about getting lost earlier? Okay, I admit it. I got lost that day while I was following the Florida coast. Impossible you say, let me explain. Everybody knows that the Florida panhandle turns gently to the south and becomes the Florida peninsula. As we left Panama City I began to follow the coast again and was pleasantly surprised to find that we were beginning to head south already. That seemed to put us about an hour ahead of schedule, maybe this 195 is a little faster than I flight planned, maybe we won’t be buying so much gas on the trip after all. If you look at the sectional charts you find that three separate charts have corners that come together in that area and not one of them will give you a true picture of the terrain. I didn’t know Apalachicola was way down south in that bayou and if we followed the coast to there, we would have to fly back northeast. Last time I’d flown through here I was at 35,000 feet on LNAV so it took me a little while to figure out that we really weren’t going down the peninsula yet. When the coast suddenly started to head northeast, I had to admit to Charmian and Tom that we really weren’t an hour ahead of schedule. I also had to tell them to relax, just because the compass is pointing northeast doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing. It always amazes me how soon people forget about the good landings and turn on you at the slightest sign of weakness.

After another 45 minutes we were indeed turning south again and starting to fly down the peninsula. We were cruising along at a thousand feet, when I spotted two faint dots ahead. I kept an eye on them as they approached, they were obviously other aircraft flying a loose formation on the way to S-n-F. Soon I was able to make out the one on the right was a Cessna 150.

He was about a thousand feet right and 500 feet behind a yellow J-3 Cub. We were closing fast so I lined up right in between them and a little below and flew past them about 75 mph faster. They both rocked their wings when they saw us go by and I did the same.

We landed at Ocala, Florida to take advantage of the discounted fuel and review the arrival procedures and the Notams for Lakeland. We parked next to an all silver 195 and met the pilot, he was a US Air captain and we decided to fly formation the rest of the way so we could park together. The arrival procedure went smoothly and soon we were taxiing in for the show. We taxied along a chain link fence on the south side of the taxiway and people were lined up watching the airplanes go by. I happened to notice a fellow running toward the fence looking at 66R. Just as he stopped short, he held up both hands with all ten fingers spread out. I understood immediately that he was giving 66R the top grade of 10 out of 10. Maybe all that work back at Hook’s was worth it.

Needless to say we enjoyed the event and spent most of the week camping under the wing. These things always go by way too fast. Tom rented a car and drove to Tampa; caught a Southwest flight back to the West Coast.

Charmian and I left the next day. We deviated north to Atlanta to see my Uncle Mac again and give him another hour in the 195, but that’s a different story.

When we got back to Houston, Charmian and I took the cowling off to see what needed to be done after such a long trip, but I wasn’t surprised that all she needed was a little cleaning and TLC and she was ready for the next trip. That was 450 hours ago in 195 years. I’ve learned that I don’t really need to take the cowling off after every trip to check things over, in fact, last year, I didn’t have it off once between annuals. Granted it was a slow year; we only flew 75 hours. We’ve cleaned up all of the oil leaks and she seems to stay clean longer and just runs and runs without any problems. Someday I’m going to put a clean kit on her, and a JPI, and maybe even hook up the fuel injection. We always like to make improvements to our airplanes; that’s what keeps them in such good shape. As I said before, Charmian and I are very proud to be Cessna 195 owners.