As I was coming down, another plane passed and, with good air manners, circled about until the pilot saw that I was on the ground safely.
Airplanes are meant to fly, and it is sad to see one towed along the road. But it was my fate to see “G-EBUG” (my registration letters) thus return to Pecos. Because the wheels of the plane were not made for much rolling on the ground, we were forced to hold our pace to ten miles an hour and to stop every three miles to let the bearings cool. It was late and dark when the little ship was stowed behind a garage at Pecos, there to await new engine parts from El Paso.
It may not be all plain sailing, of course, if one chooses to step out informally over strange country visiting unfamiliar landing fields. But the fun of it is worth the price.
In regard to “G-EBUG”—these were the British license letters on Lady Heath’s plane and I had left them when I purchased it from her. American licenses are combinations of letters and numbers, thus:
Those planes having an approved type certificate, commonly called an ATC, carry numerals prefixed by “C”. This letter means the plane has passed tests for airworthiness prescribed by the Department of Commerce and may be flown anywhere in the U. S. A. When an “N” precedes the C, it may be flown over foreign territory also. To illustrate, my own Lockheed license number is
