About a year ago 3 hang gliders and 2 solar panels were stolen from the LZ below Crestline/Marshall (San Bernardino). A week after the theft 1 glider and 1 solar panel were mysteriously returned. The remaining missing gliders were an old mystic and a Falcon 195. The Falcon was mine and I placed a notice in the stolen wings of the mag. The mystic is white with yellow leading edge should anyone ever come across it.
A couple weeks ago the Falcon showed up on ebay, location San Bernardino. A couple of hanggliding.org members notified me and I asked them to keep quiet to let me do a bit of undercover work to obtain the glider and determine info on who might have done the original theft.
Here's an update on where I sit right now... http://www.flytandem.com/temp/theft.htm
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Seller didn't know what they had. Initially it was listed as a T2 154. Then after the initial listing it was changed to a Falcon 3. Both of which were wrong, it's a Falcon 195 (original version) made in August 1994.
I contacted the police on April 2nd (day after start of auction). They pulled up the original police report and they were fine with me waiting to win and arrange a time/place of pickup and they would meet me at the point of sale to obtain the glider and begin an investigation. They are waiting on me to let them know of this point of sale. As in the update, we may just go into the investigation regardless of no meeting place.
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5-21-08 10:30 AM PDT, glider is recovered and 3 arrests made on charges of possession of stolen property.
I was told by the seller he is selling the wing for a friend of a neighbor. And that the wing isn't available because the person selling it can't be found.
After a week of him not getting the wing I fessed up to the seller that it was stolen and I wanted him to make whatever arrangements necessary that the wing is returned, even if it magically appeared at the airpark when nobody was looking, although getting the wing through a sting and arrest would be even better. This drop and dash would be an easy way out for the person holding the glider. The seller sounded sincere when he said he would try to get something done.
After another month of waiting I finally assembled what information I had (seller name, email addy, ebay name, zip code, city and phone number) and submitted it to the PD.
Within a day or 2 they began working on it and realized the seller had an outstanding warrant. They liked the fact that now they had a way to find him.
They used my info to easily locate him and arrested him on the warrant. The girlfriend of the seller also was taken in for questioning regarding stolen property for sale on ebay. She claimed no involvement but knew where the neighbor was that had the wing, and took the cops to that address which was across the street from their home.
From the driveway the cops could see a hang glider in the bag in the back yard. They called me and I hustled on over. The serial number was easily visible on the keel and they arrested three scumbags for possession of stolen property and I went home with a wing in a very UV'd bag.
The Andy Jackson Airpark was just a few months old. Summer of 94. Not much more than just a mound of dirt. Came to the LZ one morning and a house was in the parking lot. Well what was left of it anyway.
It was obvious that a house had burnt and the subsequent bulldozing and loading to dump trucks had someone looking for a place to take what may have been 3 or 4 dump truck loads of everything from furniture to roofing to flooring to studs and siding and appliances etc. All showing signs to varying degrees of fire. The pile was about 8' tall and fairly circular about 40' in diameter. The nerve. Right in the middle of our parking lot.
I rummaged around for a while and various things got me thinking it was from the mountains. Even though most was burnt there were a few items that escaped the inferno. A receipt from a hardware store up in the mountains. A flier given out in the mountains. In all perhaps a dozen or more clues from the mountain, perhaps Crestline, Twin Peak or Lake Arrowhead. There were other clues showing a location of Los Angeles vicinity. But why would someone bring such an amount of trash the 60 miles from LA? And nothing pointed to a specific address. You see all mail is addressed to P.O. Boxes up in the mountains. No home mail delivery.
So I found the number of the Crestline fire department and explained the situation. They said they couldn't help me, that addresses of recent home fires was confidential. I spent quite a while on the phone with him with other small talk. About the life of a firefighter etc. Eventually he suggested 3 different streets I might want to drive along as they may have had fire issues within the previous month or two, but i didn't hear it from him, was his only request.
The first street I checked, in Crestline, some 18 miles from the LZ, had me quickly find a flattened home that was mostly just foundation because much of the home had been burnt then removed. I got off my motorcycle and sauntered up to the site. There were plenty of remnants of vinyl flooring, and mouldings and roofing. Not a very good site cleaning. I tossed small samples of as many different items that I could into my backpack. I memorized the physical address and returned to our debris pile at the LZ. 100% match in all samples. Some very unique items too. Not even a question that this was the place.
So it was off to the hall of records to find the owner of the property. It was someone who lived in LA. I got their phone number and gave them a ring. It was a strange conversation with a bit of Wizard of Oz essence as I talked about someone dropping a house on our LZ. And that I held unmistakeable proof about witch house it was. A no brainer. I asked him to have a heart and put himself in our situation. I also suggest he clean it up before the weekend as it would take a lot more courage to clean it when all the pilots were there.
3 days passed then on the 4th, Saturday, when I arrived at the LZ I could see the house was gone. Hardly even a trace of soot.
Heading up to the 750 one day we saw a pile of remodeling debris at the start of the dirt road. Moulding, some drywall, various cans and buckets and some dented up fender from some kind of truck or car. Also there was a large delivery box that originally had some make of fender in it. So whoever did this probably had a vehicle with a replacement fender. I pondered the prospect of calling all the local automotive outlets asking about recent fender sales. I searched all through the rubbish and found nothing that could tie this to the culprit. They were good, or lucky. Then strangely laying in the sagebrush at least 50' away from the rest of the debris was a sweepstakes entry card from Knotts Berry Farm. You know those little cards they ask you to fill out with your info and drop in the box to win something like a 2 day trip to Vegas. But it was a fair distance from the debris so may not be connected. And why was it filled out and not dropped in their box at Knotts?
So I headed over to the San Bernardino address on the card just on a whim. You know what? There was a small pickup truck in the driveway that had a brand new fender on it. The truck was fairly old but with a new fender. Bingo.
I knocked on their door and some 20 yr old kid came to the door. I told him I noticed he had replaced the fender on his truck. And that unfortunately he had chosen a poor place to take the old fender and shipping box.
He said his friends took that stuff away.
"OK", I said, "but they placed it on USFS property and it needs to be cleaned up asap". And that I would give him and his friends 24 hours to pick it up and take to the dump after which I would call the Forest Service. He said he would and I turned to leave.
In a somewhat columbo fashion I took 3 steps and stopped and turned around,... "oh and one other thing, I almost forgot". "You know that remodeling you are doing in your house?
He said "uh... ya?"
"You need to pick up all that trash too."
So one morning Dianne asked... "where's your bicycle, it's not hanging by the shed like it usually is". I thought for a few minutes and best I could recall is that I had used it the day before at about 2PM and had left it leaning against the back of our house.
The spot was visible only from the back alley. So I wondered who would have the balls to walk into our back yard and across 40' of yard and grab the bike? And who would be walking there in the alley to see it in the first place? It had to be late afternoon the day before. So on a whim I figured maybe some junior high or highschool student walking home. And if they were going up the alley they probably lived on my street and were going from the school the most direct way home.
So before school let out I drove over to the Jr high and walked all the bike racks thinking they might take it to school to show off to their friends. No luck. So I waited by the alley thinking they might be stupid enough to ride it up the alley. The 2:30 thru 3 PM time when kids went home came and went with no bike.
So at around 3:15 I said to Dianne I am going to get my bike and hopped on my motorcycle. I cruised very slowly up the alley glancing into every backyard for the 10 blocks until the alley stopped. I made two lefts and started down our street back toward home. But as I made the turn onto our street I saw 3 kids with one on a bicycle just a couple blocks away.
They were entering a driveway and as I got closer the bike had been laid down on the driveway near the house and all 3 kids were then standing beside a car parked at the street talking to whoever was in the car. I drove past slowly looking to see if the bike looked familiar.
Sure enough it was my bike so I whipped a U-ey and drove right up the driveway stopping beside my bike. I got off the motorcycle and walked over to the 3 guys at the car who were about 14 or 15 years old and asked who was riding the bike. Two pointed at one, and I stated simply that the bike was stolen from me the day before and if he would like we could both go down to the police station or perhaps have them come to this location. There was no police report but he didn't know that.
The kid said he bought it from some guy for $10. I asked if he didn't mind then if I just took it right then and he would lose his $10. He was fine with that, so pondered what to do next for a couple of seconds. I first got on the motorbike and kickstarted it, got off and slung the bike over my shoulder and across my back, then again hopped onto the motorcycle and drove home. It was the first time I carried a bike while riding a motorcycle.
So 6 minutes after I told Dianne I was going to get my bike I drove past the front of our house and honked carrying the bike. She saw me all contorted carrying that bike, shook her head and Laughing
Another morning I had just poured my coffee and was in the living room about to watch some morning news. It was a few minutes before the 7:30 shuttle calls.
A person walks past our sliding glass doors and I wonder... who the heck could that be walking across our backyard and patio. I take a couple steps sideways to see where he's going and... the guy is lifting my bicycle off its hook at the back yard shed. Shocked
So I quickly place my coffee on the table and start running out the back door after him. I'm in my robe with birthday suit under it and in short order I'm up to running speed. The trampoline is between me and him so I get in one huge superman jump. I had the cape, just no tights. Turned out the jump was more for show as he still had a good lead on me and he also had dropped the bike to make a faster getaway.
Now the thief had a 4' high fence to hurdle and as he hurdled over it I had a secret. The fence was actually a swinging gate and it swung both directions. So since I was just close enough I pushed on the gate and managed to swing the gate so that as he hurdled over the gate, the gate followed his motion staying directly under him. Gravity did its thing and the guy fell onto the steel bar of the fence right onto his b@!!$.
He PLF'd into the alley and I wondered... now what. That is until he got up and pulled out a handgun. I 180'd faster than a spinning paraglider and did my best P.I.O. to avoid potential flying lead, back into the house to call 911.
The cops had him a short time later and had me I.D. him.
too much adrenaline for me.
It was a typical summer flying day winding down. Winds were calm to maybe 2 mph katabatic. The sun had just set behind Baldy. And just before getting into the Suburban to head home I notice from the VASI area a vertical plume of smoke like from a campfire or perhaps large campfire. The smoke was probably 100' high and 10' wide or better.
As I pull out my cell phone to call 911, I see at the same time a person walking briskly directly away from the fire almost going out of view down the east side of the LZ. He appears to be a 1 or 2 minute walk directly away from the fire. Way too suspicious to be just coincidence.
So while I'm on hold as usual at 911, I am running full speed toward this chap. I get to the east edge of the LZ and it's probably a 10' drop to where this homeless-looking derelict is walking. He's about 70' away from me. I didn't know what to say other than I wanted to get a better look at him and to hear his voice. Something in me said not to get any closer yet. So I stood for a few seconds and trying to look nonchalant and like I didn't notice the fire, like I had been loitering there all along, I asked him, "hey you wouldn't happen to have a cigarette would you?" I know, pretty funny in retrospect. Wouldn't "nice weather we're having?" have been better? Dianne is much quicker wit. I needed her real bad by now.
Anyway he didn't look at me, but just continued his determined march heading south and replied to my question saying "nope, don't smoke".
I could hardly believe what was happening, the mountains were tinder dry and hadn't seen rain in months.
So, still on hold, I ran toward the south end of the LZ out of view of the arsonist for 30 seconds and at the same time met a couple other pilots who had now joined me in this run. I figured we needed someone or a pair of pilots to follow along keeping distance and having a cell or radio so we could get the police to catch up to them.
I watched from the high (south) edge of the LZ. 911 finally answered and I gave the location of the fire. I also started giving info on what we were doing regarding the arsonist.
I stayed watching the arsonist from the LZ as long as I could see him while others drove along keeping their distance. In a few minutes the fire trucks arrived and I ran over to help them find a way up to the VASI. I knew they would be facing a big problem because there is about 300' of very dense brush including poison oak to traverse to get to the location of the fire.
A crew of perhaps 30 firefighters all on foot had assembled to fight the fire. Sure enough the captain was DELIGHTED when I showed him the hidden but well maintained trail.
I returned to the LZ to find the police working with the pilots and communicating with those following the suspect. Campus police joined into the pursuit. 10 minutes later we were doing the I.D. on the CSUSB grounds. Arsonist arrested.
Fire quickly extinguished. And the authorities say thumbs up to the CSS for a job well done.
The early years of the original Crestline LZ known as Pine Crest Airpark was a humble beginning. Even in its latter years it had a mobile home some clearing in the desert and a shade tree and gazebo. But it did have a storage rack with sun and rain protection.
One day a pilot shows up to fly but his glider is missing. We determined that his plus another is missing. What was strange was the two gliders missing belonged to close friends and came from the same town and their gliders were actually spaced quite far apart and even on separate racks. So why would someone single out these two gliders cut the chains and steal them? It was a curiosity. But we filed a police report, the victims offered a small reward for their return and life continued without these gliders.
A couple years later I get a call from a man who asks if I want to buy a couple of hang gliders. I asked him what make and models they were but he didn't know.
Now we get calls like this on occasion and it's not unusual for the seller to not have too much of an idea. Many reasons could account for this. It's not necessarily foul play. But being 2 gliders at the same time I was surely interested in finding out more.
I asked him to describe the colors of the bags. Dianne was nearby and I motioned her to come to the phone and when I asked her to help and told her the colors of the bags she got all excited. She has a great memory of what's going on and she knew that these were the two gliders stolen right down to one glider having a one-of-a-kind bag modification.
I suggested to the seller that I might be interested and asked him how much he wanted for them and I got an address to go and look at them. It was a Riverside address which is a good 20 miles out of San Bernardino.
I called the San Bernardino PD and got someone who could pull up the theft report from 2 years earlier. The detective asked if I had seen the gliders yet. I said no but I didn't need to because the description was so unique and a perfect match. He still wanted me to see the gliders first and that I needed to go and get the gliders and bring them to the police station in San Bernardino for a positive ID. Yep, they were quite helpful that day.
So I went to the seller's location. I opened up the gliders a bit to see colors and I absolutely remembered the first. A relatively state of the art Eurosport with some green and blue. Plus, Dianne had written the colors down for me. This seller was not likely the thief as well. First off if he stole them from the airpark he wouldn't likely be trying to sell them back plus his story was reasonable and I felt quite sorry for the guy.
Turns out he and his dad run a construction business. They had an employee, let's call him "David" that came to them asking for a $5000 loan. They didn't trust David enough to fork over that kind of money but David offered up these two hang gliders as collateral. Then David proceeded one day to take his loan and at the same time drove out of the yard when the owners weren't looking and stole an additional 20K in equipment and left the state. These business owners were out a lot of equipment and cash and were left holding two hang gliders. They were just trying to cut their losses.
And to bring it even more into view, the name given of the embezzler was of a student training at a HG school called Natural High some 2 years earlier and knew both of the pilots who lost gliders. Actually they were friends. Some friend eh?
So I told the seller I would like to buy the gliders but I first needed to test fly them at Crestline near San Bernardino. He agreed but stated he needed to come with me for security. I agreed.
So off we went toward San Bernardino. As we got into town I told him that in event I liked the gliders, I needed some cash so I want to stop at the bank first. What he didn't realize is that this bank (which wasn't even my bank) shared the parking lot with the police station. I pulled in and parked and pulled the key out of the ignition. The seller was a lot bigger than me but I figured I would just take the keys and run like a coward to the safety of the police if he got physical.
"I've got some bad news for you. These gliders are stolen and we are here to have the police identify them for return to their rightful owners." The guy came unglued but was mostly angry at David. I really felt badly for the guy.
And I encouraged the modest reward go to this guy and his dad. It wasn't much but it was at least a thank you for coming forward with the gliders.
Turning on to the start of the dirt road is a huge pile of old carpeting. Not much info hidden but we do find an empty paper spool with a tag showing the brand/color of carpet and the store it was delivered to from the manufacturer. Dianne and I head over to Base Line St to the carpet store. We show the spool and in a few minutes the installers are fingered and they head over to pick up their mess.
Day after Christmas and on the dirt road to the LZ just after the left fork is a large pile of Christmas wrappings and boxes. And the morons toss all their Christmas cards each with their address into the mix. Just too funny. So after flying that day we stuff the suburban full of this crap and head over to the location just a mile from the LZ and dutifully spread all the Christmas tidings around in their front yard. This is the only time I recall being somewhat nasty when it came to returning of their lost items. Usually we have it bagged for them. OK, I'll probably go to hell, but it did feel good. What's embarrassing is that not too long before this we had to give a lecture to our daughter who was in high school, about how wrong it is to "toilet paper" a house as a practical joke. She had not done it but her friends had done it to our place so we figured there would be influences and she might fall prey to this type of behavior.
Or the time we had all the goldfish stolen from our little backyard fountain/pond. The recordings showed some neighbor kids had entered our yard to sneak some play time on our trampoline. One kid scoops out the goldfish and they all leave with this kid just holding the fish in his hand. A few days later the same kids see us arriving home and ask if they can play on the trampoline. I simply ask them to get their parents over to supervise and permit it, plus I asked them to not play without this supervision. I told them I saw them playing the week before and pointed at the one kid and said I saw him take his shoes off "right there" pointing at the place he had sat to remove his shoes. Then I pointed at another kid, the fish thief, and asked him if our fish survived. I told him I didn't mind him taking our goldfish but preferred him to ask first and then to get a plastic baggy to be able to transport them. I would hate to think the little fish died because of his wrecklessness. The kids never came back.
So one morning I can't seem to find my cell phone. Not unusual since I am such a scatter brain and often misplace the keys or wallet or sunglasses too. But it just doesn't seem to be anywhere I usually leave things. Eventually I conclude that it's gone and the next day I call to turn off the service and get another phone going. When turning off the service I ask if they would be able to tell me what calls have been made. They refused saying I would have to wait till the next bill came to me.
I also figure that maybe it was lost/stolen when I had gone into AutoZone the previous day. I was in the door for about 1 minute or less to get a clerk to come out and do a test on service codes for the Suburban. The window had been left open perhaps and the cell phone on the dash like it often sits.
So I wait till the next phone bill comes and take a look to see what calls had been made. Sure enough my last call is just before the trip to the AutoZone and after that a full 36 hours of other calls until the service was shut off. They actually almost used up our monthly limit so it really didn't cost anything other than having to get another phone.
I got onto the computer to do reverse telephone lookups. Of the many calls there were only 3 addresses because many are cell phones or have unlisted numbers. And 1 address with several calls was just 4 blocks from my home. So that's where I went first.
At the house a man was doing mechanical work on his vehicle in the driveway. I apologized for the inconvenience and explained that I had a phone stolen and whoever stole it had called his place several times.
"So, what can I do? he said, "I didn't make any calls and didn't take your phone!".
"I understand, and again I apologize, but would you look at my phone numbers here and see if you can see any other numbers that are familiar?"
He was reluctant not seeing how this could help. But I asked him again and then I would be on my way. So he looked and saw the first call to his home number. Then the number below he noticed and said "hey, that next number is my daughter's cell phone."
"How do I get a hold of her?" I asked. "She lives here." he said "So it appears whoever called your home phone was looking for her at home first and she wasn't home so they called her on her cell." I said "Well why don't you talk to her, she's home right now."
He calls her out and I take her out of earshot of her dad so we can talk more in private. I explain about the situation and asked if she knows anyone who recently had a cell phone starting on about such-and-such date.
She denies knowing anyone and wishes me luck. I said thanks and that I would be checking in on all the other numbers and I probably find out who it is.
After a few seconds she said ... "wait, my boyfriend found a cell phone about that time"
"Found?"
"Yes he found it as he walked down the street."
"So what's your boyfriend's name, how do I get a hold of him."
She wouldn't provide that info.
"Well , you have already gone onto record as saying your friend had a phone so I will have to go get the cops and you can now have them ask you how to find him."
She pondered a moment and then said... "wait a minute" and she headed into the house.
After a couple of minutes she came back out walked up and handed me my phone. She said that her boyfriend had found the phone and after it stopped working he gave it to her son and he was tinkering with the settings trying to make it work again.
Since I had already purchased and set up another phone, this phone became a nonfunctional extra, which a few months later was put to good use. You see our LZ mascot/caretaker-lawmowerman Timmy was really needing a phone for security reasons so Dianne and I added him as a 3rd person on our bill and used this phone which saved having to buy another one. Cool. That is until Timmy had his phone stolen ... which is another story.
Timmy lived at the airpark and had no money and fewer needs. He would live day to day with whatever $ he could scrounge up. One evening while driving back from the local store for a beer run I suppose he was doing 65 in a 50 on Kendall and he was pulled over. One thing led to another and Timmy was arrested for DUI. They cuffed him and had his truck towed away.
Unfortunately it was a long weekend and they let him out of jail at 6 PM on Friday evening. His truck would now sit in the impound at a costly daily storage fee until Tuesday. So on Tuesday we headed down and paid the $ to get Timmy's truck out. But his cell phone was not in the truck like he had left it when arrested. The towing/storage yard claimed to not be involved.
So we had the service shut off and knowing the drill, I waited the 3 weeks till the next phone bill arrived. Down the list I went analyzing what info I could from the calls. All these random addresses and what to glean from them.
So I figured the first place to start would be to go to the impound yard. It was a company called Big Z Automotive.
At the desk I reminded them that my friend Timmy had his phone stolen somewhere between being towed and us picking it up there. Again they said they couldn't help us. So I asked if they would look at our bill to see if they could recognize any numbers.
I was amazed at their steadfastness at not even wanting to look at it. We argued for probably 20 minutes and even with threats of me going to the better business bureau and to the newspaper for some negative publicity they just got all uppity. Soon there was at least 5 people including the owners in the office wondering what the ruckus was.
Eventually, they understood that they only had to look at the bill and not necessarily give me any employee information. So they gathered in their corner of the office huddled over the bill and in about 10 seconds one of them blurted "hey this is Jose's home number". So they came to me and said that one number (which appeared a couple of times among the 60 or so calls) was that of their tow truck driver. But he was not there. He had been fired between when he towed Timmy's truck and the present. And they gave no additional information. All I had was "Jose" and a home number which may or may not still be active.
I sat for a few minutes outside the place at the curb wondering what to do next and decided to take a gamble. Another number there had been called at least 10 times and often for a very long time, to a lady named Maria. Like, an hour long call in one instance. Could this be the girlfriend of Jose??? But maybe I should call Jose first?
So I gave Jose a jingle.
Hello? someone answered Hey Jose! How are you man? Who is this? he said "This is Rob." acting like he should know me by name. "Rob? uh,... do I know you?" Well you should, I am the guy who pays for your cell phone. "Uh,.. I don't have no cell phone." he said still wondering who the heck I was. "well Jose, it's actually a call with really good news. You see I am just a guy who has the ability to provide the cops with tons of info on a stolen phone but all I want is to get the phone back, no questions asked." I continued by saying, "You remember that truck you towed from Kendall drive 3 weeks ago? And it had a cell phone which you grabbed. I have the records of all your calls like to" ... and I named several street addresses including saying to his girlfriend Maria, over on 6th street. He was silent through all of this probably wondering if he should just hang up. He eventually said he would get back to me.
Later that afternoon he called me and said very few words, "you know that address on 6th street? your phone will be there after 5 PM today"
Timmy was so worried about me going there because it was gangland central but I figured what would they do. For all they knew I would have a huge backup perhaps even of police so it's not likely they would try anything. They prefer to do things by surprise as in a surprise driveby shooting. At 5:30 I hollered from the street because of the big dog in the yard and some lady walked out and handed me the phone.
Timmy died of cancer a couple of years later. When he was in the hospital one evening his phone was stolen again. Timmy was sure it was one of the nurses as he had no others in his room other than very close friends. No calls ever showed up on the bill.
The shuttle arrived at Marshall like so many other days. We piled out and still didn't see it. But as we were carrying gliders over to the setup we saw that massive pile of trash.
Marshall Peak has a strange hole on the north edge of the summit. It's perhaps man-made from a bulldozer several decades ago. It measures about 15' by 20' and 3' or 4' deep. On occasion someone top landing gets a hole in one. But today this hole was FILLED with trash. All loose, none of it in any bags. I can't properly describe the extent but if we were going to pick it up it wasn't going to be to just toss it into the back of the Suburban.
We had several pilots sifting through this household trash looking for anything that could give a clue. We got a shopping bag stuffed with info.
That night I started through the items and soon found an address. And that same address was on dozens of different items. But I was curious just what one could learn from trash. BTW, the house was at the top end of Waterman Canyon just a couple miles from the road into Marshall.
But in addition I knew the ladies name, that she rented the house, she had a boyfriend, his name, that he had just lost his job, that she was socal born but he was from Texas, they had a daughter, but he wasn't the father, where the daughter went to school, her name, age, prescribed medicine, the womans workplace, the kid's report card, that they had a hole in their roof, their car, the repairs recently done, and so much more I just won't bother with. Oh, and they had some loans and were defaulting so they were pretty poor too.
A couple days later I got the help of another pilot from Elsinore who had a huge pickup truck and also with the help of several pilots we spent the better part of an hour collecting and bagging. That pickup truck was heaped full and so was the Suburban. I prepared a letter saying that we are a group of hang glider pilots and found some items they recently had "lost". They should be grateful for our efforts because next time it would be the USFS knocking on their door.
We placed all the bags neatly on their front step and left the letter on their door. And as expected, they had a large blue tarp over their roof stopping it from leaking.
A couple weeks later I had almost forgotten about this fun when someone passed us in a blue van, on Hwy 18, just as we started up the mountain. And the passenger in the Van gave us the upturned middle finger. Everyone in the shuttle was confused since we were not doing anything other than minding our own business. This van was about 1000' ahead of us as it turned onto Waterman canyon road. That's when I put it together...
I would normally place connecting hang gliding and good PR as top priority. But if we burn a bridge or two while developing an image of protecting our environment, well, let's just say that thinking about having just gotten the finger, had me smiling all the way to launch that day.
We had just turned onto the Marshall road perhaps 200 yards into it when we came face to face with a U-Haul Truck. There was a wide spot luckily right where we met so we only saw it for a few seconds as we squeezed past one another. I did notice that on the driver's side of the truck up about 12" from the top was a lengthwise scrape the full length of the truck. The sort of damage likely to be unique to that vehicle.
After we dropped down through the saddle and started to climb the steep rocky part we encountered a pile of trash the full width of the road. It could be described as about 1 U-Haul Truck's worth of items. Not kitchen garbage so much as a variety of household items like someone doing remodeling and in addition throwing out old furnishings, appliances etc. Oh, that guy is so much dust! We got out and moved items as best we could to be able to squeeze by. After all, priority is flying right?
But while moving the stuff we all were looking for anything that might identify the person. We got a small handful of things including what looked like family photos and lots of mail. So we had an address.
While the rest of us were flying Dianne went to the address and scoped it out. No truck. So she went into the corner convenience store just 250' up the street and asked the clerk if he recognized the people in the pictures, and also about the address and if they had a U-Haul truck. He did recognize pics, and verified that the house was doing remodeling and did indeed have a U-Haul truck.
She then went to the U-Haul rental office but they didn't have record of renting it. It could be from another store though.
Back to the house and shortly afterwards, the truck pulled up by the house. Indeed it had the scrape down the driver's side near the top. Bingo.
The driver got out and walked up to the store. Figuring the clerk would point out Dianne waiting in the truck at the corner, she pulled away and headed home.
I prepped a letter that night saying we (an entire truckload of hang glider pilots) all saw him dump the trash and would happily stand up in court to identify him. But if he cleaned it up within 24 hours we would drop the whole thing. I drove over and noticed the driver window was open in the truck. I parked a couple hundred feet away and walked back and slipped the letter through the window so it landed on the driver's seat.
And the next day the trash was all cleaned up.
In the last couple of weeks we have had two instances of graffiti in the form of the letters "WHK" in our back alley. Both were within the view of our security camera but given the 75' distance from camera to artwork, the details of the artist are sketchy.
We delivered a copy to the cops but they agreed there's little to glean from the gloomy image. I had a rough idea of haircut, backpack, socks and overall gang style dress. And the incidents both happened between 9 and 10 AM.
This morning I had dropped the old suburban shuttle truck at the front end repair shop to fix Marshall road abuse. I was bicycling back home, and just a block from home, it was 9:15 AM, and I see this guy in the Walgreens parking lot just 50' from me, and he looked,... wow, I could hardly believe it... the backpack, the socks, the shirt and insignia, haircut. That's my graffiti guy!
So I whipped the trusty 27 speed into the parking lot head on toward him passing a couple meters beside him. As I passed him I looked up at him and said with a distinct surprised inflection... "hey! it's mister WHK!" He was a young 20 yr old or so that looked a lot like Beaver's older brother Wally.
I spun the bike a 180 back around closer to him and he was silent wondering if he knew me or why I would be saying "WHK". (I suspect it's the name of their gang.) So I broke the 5 second silence and said.. "ya, WHK. Just thought I'd let you know that my wife and I have several cameras here in the north end of town. We've been watching you write your WHK in several places. Very clear color movies."
He's just staring at me still and isn't saying a thing.
So not wanting to start anything or have him retreat into denial, I say "but that's cool man, just be VERY careful out there because you're probably almost always being watched."
After a couple of seconds he pipes up and simply says... "Hey man, thanks for the heads up."
They say diplomacy is the art of making a point without making an enemy.
spooky, just 2 hours before you wrote this, Erik and I were in the WW truck heading up for a round of WW new glider test flying and what started out as stories about stressful tandem flying and teaching, made Erik bring up the witch doctor rainmaker dude. Then you post this. spooky. I hadn't even thought about that tandem in over 20 years.
BTW the topic of stressssful tandem and teaching in general started because I had just got called upon to teach Bob Wills' widow, and son Brandon to fly. Erik knew full well the stress on someone because of the years he taught HG. Imagine, being known as the guy that killed the remaining family of Bob Wills. I'm not worried. He's just another person wanting to fly. Hope I don't sound bored or callous. I'm not. It's just that to me everyone is an equal in this world. And we all deserve a shot at learning to fly. They breathe the same air we do.
I did have some fun though yesterday... I spoke with the son (Brandon Wills) who BTW sounds like a very smart and keen potential student. We talked about several items in the training. Then at one point he asked me what glider he should consider getting. And in a very sincere sounding voice I simply said, "You don't want to get a Wills Wing. Definitely get a Moyes.". A couple of seconds of silence followed by a cute and almost sheepish "what?" from Brandon. Then I fessed up that I was kidding.
Or years ago when kidding around with Bruce Jenner. Bruce few in from Malibu by helicopter to the Andy Jackson LZ and is riding up in the McShuttle to go PGing tandem. On the way up he commented on how he had thought that hang gliders were all a bunch of pot smoking hippies but this group appeared more... professional. So I confirmed his observations by introducing the gang one at a time and their professions,... doctor, engineer, dentist, lawyer, anesthesiologist, etc. And when I got to the end where Bruce sat I simply asked,... "by the way Bruce, what do you do?" just silence in the truck... until someone giggled then they all started laughing and realized the ice had just been broken.
And later Bruce asked of the training process. I nonchalantly melted any remaining ice and talked about the flights at the training hill and that it's a lot of work carrying the glider back up the 60' hill... "don't know what kind of shape you're in Bruce but it will make a track star out of you." But then I apologized to Bruce and said it is all in fun and we are fully aware and proud of his achievements in the 1976 Olympics.
sorry to go off topic. this was supposed to be about scary tandem stories.
OK. 6 days ago. Coming in for tandem foot landing. Passenger was in behind looking over my shoulder and holding onto my harness near my armpits. We are doing the usual very hot approach and I had arrived at 1' agl or so still going 30-35 mph airspeed and the wind is probably 3 mph. I coasted, still with both hands on the base tube... slowing... at about 24 mph I transitioned both hands smoothly one at a time to the uprights in order to feel the remaining 2 or 3 lbs of pitch pressure to decide when to flare. As I do this I also feel a sudden absence of the passenger's right hand from my harness and just a split second later, the glider starts descending, and I realize the glider's trim has changed. It's now trimmed in a dive. I realize that he must have just grabbed the control bar and is pulling our weight forward, probably grabbed at the base tube since I didn't feel our weight being shifted off center.
So many sensory inputs in such a short amount of time. It's amazing how the brain works to gather all this stuff in. In a split second I do 3 things simultaneously... 1. I aggressively push out the bar a foot or so then pull back in to keep from ballooning up. More of a rapid pumping action in pitch in attempt to jerk the bar out of his hand. Wherever it is. 2. I look down at the base tube to see in horror his hand had indeed just grabbed the base tube and also I am seeing the push I am doing is causing the bar to be yanked from his hand (it was wonderful to see what appeared to be, in slow motion, the four curled fingers acting like little springs recoil back into the palm of his hand as each finger got plucked from the bar) ... and 3. I am hollering "LET GO". Not that this would do much good. Just all part of the attempt to not crash.
I realize the bar is free so a second jerk is not needed, I have to estimate flare timing based on the previous glider airspeed and rate of deceleration plus how the glider reacted during the pumping of the bar. So another second later I am flaring and the landing is just fine. For a while after the flight I taste a bit of adrenaline which isn't my idea of a good time. The less adrenaline the better with me. I know, I'm a wimp. Mitch gets upside down all day and is as relaxed as if tying a shoelace, and I get all uppity because I almost belly in with a rolling landing on the wheels on a grassy LZ.
Oh you want edge of hell passengers. This wasn't my passenger thankfully but its' a true story.
Crestline September 1979. I had not started tandem flying yet in California. I was a good intermediate with about 150 hours airtime. A guy takes his friend tandem. In those days most harnesses had originally been made without parachutes and had containers sewn externally onto the harnesses to upgrade them. And tandem wasn't popular so most harnesses were not chute-less as in being dedicated as a passenger harness.
So this guy takes a big glider and borrows a friend's harness which has a chute so that he can take this other non-pilot for a tandem. It's a stirrup harness and the squarish protruding chute container on the chest makes a convenient place to hang the stirrup for the launch run. Common practice.
Off they go. The passenger knows he's supposed to grab the stirrup and push it down to his feet to kick the harness to full length. For those who don't know about stirrup harnesses it much like a cocoon but just a loop of rope and foot bar below the thighs.
You probably guessed it by now. He grabbed the stirrup AND THE CHUTE HANDLE at the same time and subsequently deployed the chute. They careened into the poison oak about 800' below Crestline launch, which is located BTW, at the edge of hell.
August 1981. The Nationals were soon to be held off Slide at Reno NV. I was hired to assist prepping the area and motorcycled from socal to the Carson City area, Davis Creek, for the month of August. I had no way to carry a wing but Liz Sharp who also was assisting in the prep loaned me her Atlas. Very nice of her, thanks Liz.
A forest fire had raged for several days in the mountains overlooking Carson City. The day the planes went away and the airspace reopened, I was treated to a flight on the Atlas. I had no instruments or radio but that didn't matter. The lift was HUGE and I was soon at least a mile above the highest peaks on the east side of Lake Tahoe.
I headed south for about 3 hours just tootling in no big hurry. I have no idea how high I was, but it was so high it could easily be considered a Class A act if you know what I mean. Yes we were all young and reckless in those days.
Over the mountain called Freel Peak I saw nothing but rugged snowy Sierras to the south and going west was forest too. North would take me home which wasn't an option so that left east. And this direction soon caused me to plummet big time. I augered my way down to an open area somewhere a few miles SE of Freel Peak among many open flat fields.
Usually I can set up approaches with ease and I find off field landings rather a joy with the variety it provides. But I should have known something was wrong as I missed my target by probably about 1000'. Safe no wind landing on autopilot, but a long walk back to the edge of the field in this 100 degree dirt field.
I pulled a few ribs and thought,... I need to make a phone call at the local farm house to start the retrieve. So I walked about 100' toward the house. But I turned and looked at the glider, so vulnerable in the field. "What if a dust devil came by." So I returned to the glider.
I pulled another couple of ribs and thought. "But, I would save so much time if the retrieve was started and I could break the glider down while waiting on the pickup. So I headed to the house again. And yes after a 100' walk I again looked at the glider sitting so vulnerable. "I would hate to damage Liz's Atlas."
This indecision with me walking back and forth continued for at least 4 more times each time doing a bit more of the teardown. Eventually the glider was broken down enough that it appeared safe if the wind came up.
At the farm house a man answered and I told him of my landing, pointing to the glider on the control bar on the other side of the road. He invited me in to use his phone. Nice man.
I picked up the receiver and just stared at the phone for a while. I was having a Walter Mitty dream, reliving the flight and probably after 20 seconds I realized I was standing in this man's kitchen holding the phone handset. But what was I doing there? Oh ya, making a call to Liz. But what is her number? I got scared for a moment thinking I had forgotten it and would have to walk back to Carson City. Damn if I couldn't think of the number. It was so confusing.
After another 30 seconds or so I remembered I had the number written down in my wallet. I laughed at myself for being so stupid and extracted the paper. I read the number and tried to memorize it to dial it. But it was just an impossible task. It took me a long time to realize that I only needed to memorize one number at a time. So I looked at the first digit and dialed it. "This is going to be easy" I remember thinking. And the same for the second and the third number. On a roll. But then I couldn't remember which number I was up to. So I started again.
I still didn't realize what was happening to me. After several restarts dialing the number I finally got through and Liz answered. She asked my location and I said,... hang on I'll ask.
The man watching me curiously the whole time gladly told me the directions. He stated how many miles along what highway and what crossroad etc. I had him repeat the directions to me a couple more times thinking this is going to be even tougher than dialing. Oh man! So close to getting a pickup yet so far.
So after a few tries at memorizing the directions I asked him to write them down for me. He gave me a funny look and then after a pause and with a grin he said, "why don't I tell your friend where we are?"
So embarrassing but only now did I realize what was happening to me. I had taken 3 hours worth of high altitude brand stupid pills and was now paying the price for it.
Across the road I then waited in the shade by the folded glider and had the most splitting headache. I slowly returned to normal I think, but to this day, I sometimes wonder about that.
Arriving home after a flying day we find that someone had broken into our back door. The molding around the screen part of the door had been broken out, the screen knocked out and the door was unlocked. I told Di to back away from the door in case of trouble and I slowly entered the house.
Well, nobody was there and we soon found that the only theft was in our 16 yr old daughter’s room, which was a stolen walkman, and a broken and cleaned out piggy bank. “Kids” we think.
So I knock on neighboring homes to see if they have had any trouble or have seen anything suspicious. The only result is at a new house construction site where a couple of men building a house say they had a couple of 10 yr old kids that had wandered by about 1PM that day. The kids were asking for work and were verbally very rude. It was strange because it was a school day and these kids should have been in school. They were described as a fat kid and a slightly shorter skinny kid. The workers said the kids had come by on foot heading west and turned north up our street.
While I was out doing the rounds in the neighborhood, Dianne had noticed some evidence in the back yard. Someone had turned on our hose, played with it getting both patio and dirt wet, had also bounced on the trampoline, plus we saw a little antique claw hammer that had likely been the tool used to pry out the molding on our door.
We carefully looked for footprints and sure enough we saw a couple of styles of prints. Both could be of a size matching that of 10 yr olds. The larger set had the better clarity and I could tell they were a brand name LA GEAR as I recall. But more distinct was that on each left print there was a chunk of tread missing out of the heel. I got out a 12” ruler and placed it beside the best of the prints on the trampoline and took a few photos of it.
The days passed and we were pretty sure we would never see this story continue. But after 8 days one afternoon about 1:30 or 2PM while I was tinkering in the back yard, I heard someone knocking on our front door. I walked around the house to the front to see a couple of 10 yr old kids, one bigger and chubby and the other shorter and skinny and they had Dianne at the door. Di said to me these kids were looking for work and I could tell by Dianne’s look that she and I were thinking the same thing. This is too good to be true. And we had the element of surprise.
So obviously I needed a job for them while I considered our next move. We went around back and I told the kids I would pay them each $2 to move the woodpile ( about ¼ chord) about 10’. I surely didn’t need the pile moved but it was a good excuse to keep them here for a while.
Dianne and I had a short parle in the kitchen and she wanted to call the cops. I said “not yet” since we had nothing for sure on them. Maybe we could get a shoe match? As I walked back outside the chubby kid asked if they could bounce on the trampoline. I said that maybe they could but I would need to check the soles of their shoes to see if they were trampoline friendly. So he lifted his foot and I took a good look. What a beautiful sight to see the LA GEAR logo, and better yet, the exact shape location and size of chunk missing out of the sole.
“We’ll need to get permission from your parents before letting you bounce, what’s your home phone number?”
The chubby one said they were living with their grandparents and they had no phone.
“Well, I need to get a note from your grandparents before you can bounce” I went into the house and told Di to call the cops. We had a positive I.D. on the kids via shoe print.
But moments later the kids came in and said they were leaving but would come back later to finish the job of moving the wood. I said that’s fine,.. what else could I say. And when they had gone less than one minute I followed them by bike, staying a safe distance away so they wouldn’t see me and I had my cell phone so Dianne could keep in touch, for if and when the cops arrived.
The kids walked east a block then south and on the way they walked up to a house and knocked on the door. After talking a few seconds to the person who answered, they continued south and turned the corner and entered a local Del Taco fast food outlet. I positioned myself across the street behind a parked car and watched.
My cell rang a few minutes later and Di said the cops were at the house and wondered where I was. I told them to meet me at the Del Taco. When the police car pulled into the Del Taco parking lot I rode up on my bike and introduced myself to the two cops in the car, and said that 2 kids inside had committed a burglary at our house.
So I, and the two cops, entered the restaurant and I pointed out the kids who were sitting across one another at a table. As we approach we could see them writing a note, from the grandparents, that stated they were allowed to bounce on a trampoline.
So one cop took the chubby kid outside and the second cop stayed with the skinny one at the table. I also stayed inside. The cop looked at me and said that he didn’t really know what was happening and I should bring him up to speed.
“Well” I said, “last Tuesday about 1PM this kid and his friend were walking west on 42nd street and stopped at a house construction site asking for work. When they were turned down, they walked up Sepulveda Ave and at the second house, my house, they knocked on the front door and after there was no answer, they walked around back. (I took the knocking of the house a few minutes earlier as their M.O. and gambled that this was how they behaved at our place) Continuing, I told the cop, that they played with the hose in the back yard, bounced on our trampoline, and then they found this antique claw hammer and pried open our back screen door, then entered, and stole our daughter’s walkman and piggy bank.”
In the same breath, I turned to the kid and said… “you remember that old claw hammer don’t you, the one that had been sitting on the brickwork ledge?” The skinny kid now with wide eyes and a shocked look, said “it wasn’t me, it was all Jimmy’s idea, Jimmy did it!” as he pointed to his friend outside with the other cop.
The cop looked at me with a very cheshired smile and slight nod both indicating we now had an admission and obtained in a way that would make Perry Mason happy.
Soon the parents were there and it turns out the chubby kid, Jimmy, had a prior for breaking and entering their school.
A month or so later, while grocery shopping with Di, I notice the chubby kid passing us in the aisle. He didn’t notice or recognize me. But without missing a beat, and in a casual way like one friend would say hello to another, I got his attention and said “Hi Jimmy!”. One walkman and piggy bank, $25. His look both of surprise and embarrassment, priceless.