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Sitting on Jaybird’s porch at sundown, I told him about the flight. Shaking his head, he grunted, “You’re what I said: the craziest pilot who ever flew.”

The Craziest Pilot Who Ever Flew



The Craziest Pilot Who Ever Flew When the caller asked if I would fly to the Gulf Coast and get his dead brother, I didn’t know what to say. “He died while vacationing, but the local ambulance company charges too much for the trip,” he said. “If you’ll do it, I’ll rent the airplane and pay you $100.” His offer came at an opportune time. I had completed every student pilot requirement but one — a cross-country flight requiring a refueling stop and an airport attendant’s signature in my logbook. I promised to meet him the next day.

“He’s kinda stiff — we’ll have to bend him to fit into the seat”

Before leaving, I stopped for coffee at the home of my lifelong friend and mentor Jaybird. When I told him about the offer, he bolted upright and said, “You’re going to do what? Fly while sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a dead man? Boy, you are the craziest pilot who ever flew.” “Don’t worry, everything will be all right.” I finished the coffee, hugged the beloved old black man, and was on my way. At the airport, the grieving brother handed me the keys to a small aircraft in which two seats were jammed side by side in a cramped cockpit. He promised to be waiting when I returned. The flight’s first leg was uneventful in weather pilots call CAVU — ceiling and visibility unlimited. When I landed and taxied off the runway, an ambulance pulled up. The look on the driver’s face said it all: You are the craziest pilot who ever flew. “He’s kinda stiff — we’ll have to bend him to fit into the seat,” the driver said as he removed the sheet covering him. While we struggled to tighten the seat belt and shoulder harnesses, the cadaver’s half-closed eyes stared at me. After strapping myself in, we were, as Jaybird predicted, shoulder-to-shoulder. Halfway home, I began descending to an airport along the flight path to refuel and get my logbook signed.

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Pandemonium struck

Then pandemonium struck. When the pressure changed in the lower altitude’s denser air, the passenger’s head flopped sideways, his eyes stared holes through me, and his chin dropped, opening his mouth. Panicking, I abandoned all safety procedures and put the airplane in a steep dive, a dangerous maneuver that caused the dead guy to sigh, “A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ah.” When the plane rolled to a stop, I was soaking with sweat and shuddering with fright. A while later, after settling down and organizing my thoughts, I asked the attendant to sign my logbook. Glancing inside the aircraft, he said, “Don’t you know student pilots aren’t allowed to transport passengers?” When I mentioned that he wasn’t a passenger, but a dead man, the attendant, certain I was lying to him, reached in and shook the body, causing its head to flop forward. Shrieking, he jumped back, slammed the door, signed my logbook, and said, “Dude, you just might be the craziest pilot who ever flew.” Sitting on Jaybird’s porch at sundown, I told him about the flight. Shaking his head, he grunted, “You’re what I said: the craziest pilot who ever flew.”
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s upcoming book, entitled The Jaybird Tales. The book will be available before the holiday season. Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (jimmycecilreedjr@gmail.com).

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Jimmy Reed -- Bio and Archives

Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.

This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.

Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).


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