turboplanner

or set up a suitable search facility

It is Os, but we need to move on when newer, simpler, and safer technology comes along.

These codes were designed for the Telex machines of the fifties.

Well, everyone's welcome to have a laugh at my expense - Ossie's information is dated around December 20, and I posted on december 31, so I probably would have flown straight into it.....however, it does make my point.

Well that's pretty straightforward, but as I recall it was advancing at about 15 knots

Couldn't make it work Lovaksky.

I sent ratto a youtube to keep him quiet.

Did you return the items from the Treasure Hunt?

It's easy to become patronising, but just remember you may get the message right hundreds of times, but only have to overlook something once to finish up in the side of a hill.

I quoted this some time back:

"I found one the other day with BILLY in it. Billy Goat?"

Those of you who've been telling us how good you are - decipher this!

Trouble is that's not the way people's minds flow, and there's nothing worse than watching a subject develop, then having the thread disappear and trying to work out where it went, with a user unfriendly search system.

It's not a question of "suiting" people, its the lower level of safety where human factors cause an important safety clue is missed because it is jargon developed for the Telex machines of last century, and not in plain English.

It's not a question of practicality for Airservices - I've typed this in a fraction of the time it would take me to code up a Telex.

And it's not a matter of referring to the AIP. We've seen plenty of examples of code where there is no published key to interpret it.

And we know pilots have died as a direct result of the present out of date system.

It's like establishing a sheep flock size by counting the number of feet.

I think an upgraded, and simple, search capacity would do it.

Trying to get everyone to place their comments in the right box would be a frustrating and time consuming task, and Tracktop is spot on about multiple subjects in the one thread - and they are often the most interesting threads, because one person feeds off the other and the thread gets a life of its own.

"......have another party at Casa Le Rat" said Turbo to Lovaks

"It's a pity he was away and couldn't see what we really got up to" said Lovaks

Midway through the evening, with entertainment short on the ground in Wagga Wagga after dark, Turbo had rounded up a group which was staying at the Casa and invited them in to the conference centre, raiding every bar fridge in the place for alcohol.

Here's a video of the performance Lovaks and Turbo put on for ratto's paying guests.... hope they come back again......

Ah... seems we have a technical problem... will get back to you....

......sorry Ratto, it appears this video can't be shown for technical reasons, but I guess wqe've got your imagination going if nothing else....

They can try, but the stark evidence is there on the ground and its just a tragedy for flying.

Maybe the people you know Captain are frustrated victims; I would hate to think they are happy with the present situation.

Maybe there's an underlying problem generally. As I drove along the highway there was a news bulletin commenting on the loss of harness racing in Wangaratta.

Called in to what was once one of the jewells in the crown of Victorian aviation.

What a tragedy!

Paint was peeling off the relatively new buildings, the signwriting had faded, and the main terminal had been taken over by women who seemed to be making woollen craft products - and at that, the same designs over and over again.

I'd stopped off for lunch but someone had begun dismantling the cafeteria, leaving the loose timber lying around in a pile of rubbish.

Worst of all, the magnificent Drage Museum was locked up.

I used to drop in to Joe Drage's shed at Wodonga on every trip once just to drool over things like the performance of the Beech Staggerwing he had on display.

When the collection was moved to Wangaratta to "save" it, the early signs that something was wrong were the large collection of old cars that effectively squeezed up all the aircraft exhibits.

The people of Wangaratta should be thoroughly ashamed of what they've let this asset come to.

If this was the US, or New Zealand, the airport would be hopping with tourist activity - it's only seconds from the Hume Highway.

But these people never bothered to build the tourist links to the nearby snowfields, or some of the best wineries in the Country, or the magnificent autumn scenerey or the Kelly Country, or even the Industrial centres around the town.

The grass is growing long, the clock is ticking.

Reminded me of an old C.J. Denis poem:

"Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all"

Turbo had been quietly tooling through countryside NSW and north east Victoria noting how much of his taxes had been used to develop the vibrant industries and latte houses where the nouveau riche talked the day away.

The frenzy of NES activity had quite overcome him and he didn't quite know who to quote first.

He'd become lost for several minutes trying to get out of Compoundo del Ratt and finished up at a sign saying Wagga Beach (He wondered if there would be lifesavers), but managed to find his way back to Bayliss St, and was having a bit of fun jumping the speed humps in the 4WD when he saw it......

The paddy wagon was parked, lights flashing with one wheel up on the kerb.

Yesterday's weight lifting femalecop and a skinny male colleague had some mother's son bailed up.

The male cop was down on his hands and knees on the pavement, and Turbo couldn't quite work out what was happening, but enough was enough - he was going to set the youth free by taking over the role of decoy as he did many times in his youth with the big V8 and skinny tyres that had cops racing for their car, radio and guns.

He floored the Nissan, but he hadn't counted on big fat tyres, small diesel engine and worst of all, limited slip diff.

There was a kind of squawk, but nothing else and the cops didn't even lift their heads, so Turbo slunk off along the Olympic Highway, built at the time of the Melbourne Olympics and showing it.

There's been some interesting speculation over BigPete's whereabouts and through sheer coincidence Turbo can clear this up, confirming that Pete has reverted to his Tunnelrat days, and he's the one who has been selling The Rock to the Chinese, bit by bit.

You can quite easily see in this photo of The Rock where he has been gouging the mountain away.

Lovak: "It's I's began to budge"

That's nothing, you should have seen it when it crossed its T's.

How embarrassing, we've all heard of a horses hoof, but how are the Jab owners going to cope with the new revelation that they are flying an aircraft made of cows' hooves?...........

Yeah, well I don't blame em, said Tubz, looking out the back yard and seeing.................QUOTE]

 

...a poll hereford bull mounting a white Jabiru with stars on the tail fin, to a horrendous creaking of twisting fibreglass........

"It's his ............

"obsession with cats" said Turbo. "He's manouevred his pussy into every strategic spot at every airshow, and flaunted it on every magazine issue in the country to the point where I wouldn't be at all surprised to see it flaunted in Who magazine."

Turbo couldn't explain more because he was texting this entry via satelite as he drove north from Albury, when "beep beep", his phone lost signal, and he knew he was approaching Wagga Wagga.

He saw a sign for The Rock and got the camera out so he could show Big2$ he featureless terrain.......and found out BigLes was right! Someone has shifted the The Rock.....it's nowhere to be seen near the town any more.

Realising that New South wales people were different and were probably selling the dirt to China disguised as iron ore he drove on finally arriving in the City of Wagga Wagga where he decided to have a cup of coffee. He noticed a poor pilgrim who had obviously become lost and decided to have a sleep on the footpath, but even as he was taking this in, a Police Wagon screeched around the corner and two burly policewomen got out, jerked the poor unfortunate off the ground, and before he could open his mouth, flung him into the wagon.

He was white, but could possibly have been Jewish.

Turbo conducted his business in the town, and finally arrived at his friend's establishment, The Rat's Tooth Inn.

At first he mistook it for a wool store, and regretted not bringing his swag, but this impression was soon changed when he was shown to the room Ratto had set aside for him.

He took his shoes off so he wouldn't soil the carpet, and after making a few phone calls, spent 15 minutes looking for them again.

He wondered whether this was the Princes Diana suite, or whether a previous Prime Minister had stayed here.

After braving the wilds of Wagga Wagga to have dinner at the Hogs Breath Cafe (recommended by Rattus who apparently supplied the meat), he made his way back, saying to himself over and over again "Whatever you do, DON"T GO TO SLEEP!!!".

He could still hear the bang as the carcass of the poor sleepy traveller hit the tin front wall of the paddy wagon.

Back at Rattus Innus it was very quiet, because Rat was away, and Turbo was sure he wouldn't want such a magnificent room wasted, so he invited his truckie mates and their molls around for drinks.

After an hour or so the party was in full swing, except that Turbo had to put a small fire out where one of the truckies had snoozed off, dropping his cigarette.

They sent out for three more Slabs and he party really started to lift, when in walked.........

...from somewhere out in space near Saturn came a ticking sound.

Or was it?

".....dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dash....."

There was only one person who could iedentify the pattern, but the problm was that even he was going to have some difficulty because just when a word started to form the sequence was interrupted by Dire Straits music and hill billy songs.

Could it be?.........

Meanwhile dotDash was continuing lessons in a real aircraft rather than a flying stock gate......

"PS .... Could our very own McJocklocksazvic perhaps actually be Radovan Karadzic ..... in drag ..... but masquerading as a member of the MLA for legitimacy?

"I don't think so" said Turbo, "But I do know he was a member of the MIA, and the plantation that was found at Coleambally all thoss years ago was next to his, which had been disguised as a project for the Coleambally Primary School children, who travelled out every day for a gardening class. In the finish he had to tell the bus driver to bugger off and leave him alone becaise by the time they'd smoked their share there was nothing left to sell."

The Rivet had finally seen that his ways were wrong became a fireman so he could sit around all day and read back issues of "Who"

Meanwhile ditDot had finally realised the futility of driving what would have been better left as a Hills Hoist, and started learning how to fly an aircraft, admitting that he landed it sideways because he couldn't tell the front from the side.

The thousands of Recreational Aero lurkers immediately voted him the most honest of them all, not realising he was an alien and morse code was the only language his mother taught him - they didn't speak to each other out there on the planet Sherker......

Turbo realised that he too had stepped in the poo, because on the Scarebus even the hinges were glue.

So his lack of technical knowledge had been caught out as it was when he started his first still in the hills around Korumburra.

He'd been thinking seriously about a change of motor for the Signature, and two Jab Motors sounded like a good proposition.

You'd buy them a year or so apart, so when they self destructed (Turbo loved to scream through the jetski designated areas at 500 rpm, winding the steering wheel from left to right faster than Paris Hilton), you'd still have one working engine, rather tan having to sit there drifting ever so slowly closer to 100,000 gawking Greeks.

You'd have to restrict operations to hit days of course because everyone onows that on a cold morning Jabortion engines are harder to start than a Lanz Bulldog tractor, and that needs an oxy torch. ("Aah!" said Turbo, who could be lighning fast on the uptake, but a bit slow in perspective)................

Thump, Thump, Thump he went as he upsized to a bigger cold chisel and an 8 lb sledgy.

"Next I'll use those timber cutter's wedges at the museum .......... or perhaps this is a female EvenRuder and I should use a bottle of champagne"

 

"It's a ............

"month since I started bashing and it's still not off yet" said Tubb.

"I get a guy in now and again with a Cat D7 to landscape the front garden, I'll just wait until he comes and then tie the front of the boat to the shed", said Tubb

"That's how strong fibreglass is" he said for the benefit of the "I hate Jabs" group.

He had noticed that most of the complainants had never owned them, or never flown them, or never seen them, and he was pretty sure some of them were from the opposition who built aircraft with aluminium as they did in the last Century when paper and dope became short.

Little did they know that in the wake of the airbus which dragged its tail like a constipated dog, there was about to be a RIVET RECALL, which would rock the world of aviation......

at this point Turbo wishes to express his shock at the revelations about Tomo and his wooly girlfriends - he seemed like such a nice person too.....

Ha! Goldytooth - got you!!!

on at all

"But have you pulled the head off it yet Tink" asked Sue, who liked to watch?

"I have ..........

" Not, said Tubb, I'm just not that type of pers.....

"It's like ...............

".....It's like.....it's like......it's like......AH CHOOOOOO!

"And now this mutation has spouted rivets on the fine glass surface, so it must be a Rotarivaroo ........... and the speed is down 10 knots too, so poooo, & spew, off to the loo for you, you'll never get a new crew if it ever flew."

It'll ..............

" screw and stew and moo and hoo and roo too....."