Tommy Terry: Grammar; who needs it: especially when you're reminiscing about something as special as your first encounter with the Ercoupe.

My first came somewhere along about 1963 or 64. My Dad and the local airport manager, Mr. Red Bagby, were buddies. Dad wasn't real thrilled about flying; something happened during a local flight some time earlier and he told me that he had promised God that if He would get them down, he would not get back in a small plane. Dad never elaborated, but as far as I know he kept the promise. It did nothing to deter the friendship between Mr. Bagby and him. Much to my benefit, I might add.

Because of their friendship, I got to spend a good bit of time at the airport; good quality time. Think back, try to remember: this was a place in time where things were simpler, gentler if you will. Nobody even knew what a terrorist was and the age of lawsuits had not quite arrived, at least not in our town. People didn't mind kids wandering around the hangar, looking, learning, asking questions, and even begging an occasional ride.

I "flew" for hours upon hours and never left the hangar. There was one particular plane, a Champ, I'm almost sure, that had the trim control above and left of the pilot. It was clearly labeled, "Nose up" and "Nose down." I always wanted the "nose down" so I could see where I was going. Strange, how some memories stay so vivid.

The hangars and tie down areas had quite a menagerie of aircraft. Everything you would have expected in that time period, Champs, Cubs, Taylorcrafts, Luscombes, Cessnas, the occasional war bird and an almost daily air show provided by the crop dusters, all at one small town airport. What a time to be a kid. I thought I had seen it all, then one day something appeared that I had never seen the likes of before.

There was this plane on the tie down area that was different. Low wing, nose wheel, and would you believe, two tails!!! It was different, but the more I looked the more I liked. I asked around and was told that it was an Ercoupe. Of course I heard "air coupe" and it was probably 20 years before I realized the error. As the wisdom flowed from the god-like beings (pilots & mechanics) that surrounded me, I was assured that it really wasn't much of an airplane. After all, it was low wing, had a nose wheel, and most of all no rudder pedals! "Don't waste your time looking at that thing," I was told. Still, it was different. A few more visits to the airport and I was hooked. I declared the Ercoupe to be the "coolest" little plane on the field, maybe even in the world.

Just as surely as time marches on, a young man will find other fascinations: sports, girls, band, girls, cars, girls, etc. Did I mention girls? Actually in retrospect, girls/women were a major detriment to my relationship with aviation until the right one came along. As my interest in the fairer sex increased, the time and money I had for aviation drastically decreased. Then marriage, work, kids all took their toll.

Things have a funny way of sneaking back up on you though. My love for airplanes and all things aviation never really died, it just hibernated. One day, when I found myself looking for a part time job, I looked at the very same airfield I had spent so much time at as a kid. As luck would have it, there was nothing available there but, at a field not far away I found just what I was looking for. So once again, although I didn't know it, my soul was at home and my second Ercoupe encounter was just around the corner.

Several months after I started working part time at the airport, I once again decided to learn to fly. Once again I came face to face with an Ercoupe.

It was a Sunday in March 1996, about 2:00 o'clock on what had been a rather dead day. In comes one plane; an Ercoupe. I had not seen one since 1960 some-odd. As I watched it taxi in, I was taken back in time to the field not so far away and memories of all the hours I had spent there.

A few minutes later the transient 'coupe was tied and fueled. The gentleman was asking if there would be any problem with him "sleeping under the wing." I had heard about such things, after all Jimmy Stewart did it in "The Spirit of Saint Louis", but didn't think it was done anymore. We compromised; I offered to let him camp in the building. Thinking back, I really didn't have to try real hard to get him to accept the compromise.

As the afternoon went on we visited and I stared at the coupe. Since I had now grown up, I changed my designation of the coupe from cool to sexy.

My visitor told me of how he had bought the coupe new after returning from an Uncle Sam sponsored tour of Europe during World War II. He had kept it all through his career and child rearing years with plans for him and his wife to fly about the country after he retired.

Retirement came and the coupe was refurbished from spinner to tail light. The plan was on track until his wife became ill and unfortunately passed away. After some time he decided to take "their" trip anyway. He stayed several days and camped in the building the whole time.

Word got around and several people came out to see the 'coupe. It's amazing how many people have had a coupe in their family: "My uncle had one, my Dad had one, my grandpa had one.."

I reverted to my childhood; listening, learning, and dreaming.

As I remember, it was on Wednesday the gentleman and his 'coupe left us. The exposition was over, but the memories remained.

As I began attempt number 4 to get my pilot's license, (that's right: number 4) I started looking for a plane that I might be able to afford. Seventy-five bucks an hour was outrageous, considering that attempt number one had been aborted because a Cessna 150 and instructor were costing me a whopping Twenty-seven dollars an hour.

Thus began my next encounter with the Ercoupe. Trade-A-Plane, AOPA classifieds, backs of various magazines; I scoured them all looking for something I might afford. There was an occasional coupe and the prices were right but I was thrown off by a close friend and A&P who would have ended up taking care of what ever I bought. He was convinced they were too old and too hard to get parts for. In spite of his misplaced negativities we are still good friends.

Try number five was successful, only because of the wonderful lady who is now my wife. Even when money got a little tight, she made sure I could finish something I had wanted all my life. Where was she thirty years ago?

We began looking for a plane we could afford. She had heard me talk about coupes and I had shown her one in a museum and another at a fly-in. However, we wanted four seats and a bit more speed. After all, we all want to fly faster until we learn better. We looked at Cherokee's, 172's, and a Musketeer. The ones we could afford, I wouldn't fly. We continued renting and figured that unless the world as we knew it came to an end we could buy a decent plane in late 2005. Deep down though, I knew that a coupe would be my second plane someday.

On the last Sunday of September 2003, I received a voice mail from a friend of mine in which there were few intelligible words, but from those few I was able to figure out he was talking about an Ercoupe for sale. I told my wife about the call and said, "Someday." She said, "Today." (Told you she was wonderful) I contacted my friend and got the 'low down'. Seemed he had seen it in the newspaper.

Monday evening, after being reminded by Connie, the wonderful wife, I called the fellow with the coupe; a rather half hearted call as I remember. As we talked I remembered how many times I had looked at and read about Ercoupes. I asked all of the proper questions; airframe hours, engine hours, AD's, damage history, and price. I asked if he had gotten many calls, and he told me that there had only been a few but that one man was coming to look at it tomorrow (Tuesday) and if he liked it, he was going to have it delivered to his father. To this day I have no idea what changed at that point, my next question was; what time do you expect him? His reply was, in the afternoon. I told him I would be there by 9:00a.m.

My next call was to, Bil, a good friend who is an A&P. Bil is retired and when I asked him if he wanted to go look at an airplane, he never asked what or where, he just said yes. I told him that I would pick him up at about 7:00a.m.

I arrived at Bil's the next morning and then he asked where we were going. I told him and told him we were going to look at a 'coupe. He already knew that it would be a 'coupe. He said it was all I talked about. Never realized it was that obvious.

When we arrived, the hangar was open and all of the logbooks were laid out ready for inspection. Not only log books, but about ten years worth of "Coupe Capers" (the Ercoupe club magazine), bunches of AD's, and many hours worth of research material that had been gathered by the owner. We looked the plane over and Bil studied the books. Everything was in good order.

The moment of truth had arrived. Bil said, "Go fly it." The owner and I did a pre-flight and as we were getting ready to get in he asked me if I had ever flown an Ercoupe before. I looked him straight in the face and said; "Sir, to tell you the truth, I've never so much as sat in one." And I was telling the truth!

When he could speak again he said that he would take it around the patch a couple of times and show me how it was done. That was good news to me.

We took off, or I should say he took off, and then I flew around a bit; up and down, left and right. Then I told him to show me how to land it.

As luck would have it, there was a little cross wind; just enough to make itself known. He made it look so easy. Then it was my turn. I took off and was immediately over the side of the runway. "Into the wind, into the wind", I kept telling myself. I flew around a few minutes and then it was time to land. Downwind, good. Base, good. Final, good airspeed, crabbed into the wind, everything is looking good. About 200ft off the ground I decided to change from crab to slip; the nose went up, the nose went down, the plane wobbled around, all as I frantically stomped on those imaginary rudder pedals. Oh, yeah! Things are back under control and I land just a little long but fairly, not good, just fair.

We taxied back to the hangar and Bil had finally quit laughing. He knew what had happened, he had seen that maneuver before; his dad had been in the FBO business for many years and was actually an Alon dealer at one point. He had continued to look over books as we flew. After a short conference with Bil, about 10 seconds, I wrote a check for the earnest money. Just a few days later I was back with the rest. My wife and I were now the proud owners of a plane that, according to the insurance company, I couldn't fly.

One more obstacle, find an instructor who has time in an Ercoupe and isn't too big.

Who said finding the instructor would be hard? Two phone calls and I had one and to top it off he was not too heavy. We made plans to meet, several times. Every time we both were available, the weather would not cooperate.

Finally, on a Saturday afternoon, between rains, we got in the required hour of flight training. Now the insurance company is happy and I can actually take our new baby home.

How do you choose a home for your new baby? We looked at and evaluated airfields as far away as forty miles. Short, long, paved, grass, fuel, no fuel, hangars, approaches, neighbors, the list seemed to get longer every time we looked at a field.

We found a grass field about twenty miles from the house that was nearly abandoned. Seems it had been built in the early 1970's by a gentleman who had owned a 'coupe. His son now owned the property. The hangar the coupe had lived in was in need of repair and a deal was struck; repairs for rent. He was really taken with the idea of having a coupe on the place again.

We moved in the first part of December: 28TE was now home. I flew as much as I could just to get proficient with the plane. Bil was my first passenger, then my wife, next was a daughter. Since then we've flown Young Eagles and Boy Scouts and friends. There's always somebody wanting a ride in a coupe.

Just after Christmas 2003, I took my first trip. I went home to see my Mom. The coupe and I enjoyed an absolutely beautiful day of flying. God, the weather was good and the winds were kind. It was the kind of day we all dream of. I stopped too often to make any good time but I wanted to keep a close eye on things; after all, this was our first trip. Remember the airport I spent so much time at as a kid? I arrived at VKS with friends and family waiting.

As I taxied up, I looked at the tie down area that once upon a time had been full of planes including one Ercoupe and was the very place that this journey had really begun so long ago. There are no planes on that tie down anymore and even the hangar in which I flew so many imaginary hours is gone.

I shut down in front of the terminal building feeling inside like some kind of hero, but only a hero in my own mind. No one else knew what I had just accomplished and it wouldn't have meant anything to them if they did. But to me it was the fulfillment of a life long dream. I wished my Dad had been able to see it finally come true.

A few days visiting with my Mom and seeing old friends and it was time to go. Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. After two days of plotting and planning I made arrangements to put the coupe in a hangar and rode South West home.

It was nearly six weeks before the weather and schedules got in sync. Bil and I flew from 28TE to VKS to fetch the coupe and came back pretty much uneventfully the next day.

The next weekend Harry and I flew eighteen Young Eagles.

Since then we have been pretty much local, mostly early morning rides with a friend or late afternoon rides with Connie. There is the occasional flyin, the $100 hamburgers and the afternoon ride that comes in too close to dark for real comfort.

Part of the title of this rambling, "How Harry Came Into Our Life" comes from the name Connie and I gave the coupe. His name is Harry. He is named in honor of Connie's father, Harry Schraub, whose personality was much like a coupe. He was an educator, an adventurer, and a bit of a non-conformist. Harry, his name sake, has taught us; taken us on adventures; and is definitely a non-conformist. I almost forgot; the thing that sealed the deal on a name: Harry and Harry both have the same birthday. So it couldn't be anything else.

I owe so many people for the joy I experience every time I look at the world from above, I will never be able to thank all of them, so I ask you to help me.

If you have enjoyed this writing, please stop just a second with me to thank the people who made it happen:

My father, James Terry, for the time I spent at the airport.
My wife's father, Harry Schraub, for his sense of adventure.
Benny May, my first instructor and a good friend.
My wonderful wife, Connie, who gave encouragement at the times I needed it most.
And, a half-dozen instructors whose lives I know were severely shortened by trying to teach me.

Now thank the people who have given you the gift of flight.

Postscript from La Vernia:

Gary Newcomb, my latest "Young Eagle", proudly standing beside Harry at Midlake Airfield, Elmendorf, TX.

So, maybe he comes closer to qualifying for the "old buzzard" group.. anyhow, he made his first flight on Saturday December 3, 2005 and was lucky enough to do it in a 'coupe.

Connie, Tommy and Harry Terry.

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