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Flights To The
Introduction to Flight
Noted for its highly readable style, the new edition of this bestseller provides an updated overview of aeronautical and aerospace engineering. Introduction to Flight blends history and biography with discussion of engineering concepts, and shows the development of flight through this perspective.
Anderson covers new developments in flight, including unmanned aerial vehicles, uninhabited combat aerial vehicles, and applications of CFD in aircraft design. Many new and revised problems have been added in this edition. Chapter learning features help readers follow the text discussion while highlighting key engineering and industry applications.
Air Canada's Galaxy FLIGHT 621—Toronto/GTA's LARGEST AIR DISASTER
EVER SINCE I WAS A BOY, my first memories of looking at a newspaper were of the July 5, 1970 Flight 621 crash in Toronto-Gore. We got the Toronto Telegram delivered to our door and, Johnny Lynch, my next door neighbour on Blackfriar Avenue in Etobicoke, delivered the Daily Star throughout the rest of the neighbourhood. He always had papers leftover. And when he did—we got one.
I remember all the grim crash photos from both competing papers.
Later, through the years the Toronto SUN, and the Toronto Star, would run articles revisiting the Flight 621 crash, usually when another significant air disaster had just happened.
I always wondered where the 621 crash location actually was. It bed me that I didn't know.
Oh, well I thought. I guess I'll never know.
How wrong I was.
After a November, 2001 Mike Strobel article appeared in the Toronto SUN which revisited the Flight 621 crash by talking to eyewitnesses, I discovered that the crash site was somewhere less than three miles from where I had just purchased a new home!
Fancy that! I assured myself that now, I could indeed, even 33 years later, find the mysterious crash site.
I was right.
That's all I'll say for now. About that.
With the front page of Carol Parr's (Flight 621 crash eyewitness) Toronto Star in hand, Toronto Daily Star back then, I was able to stake out the crash arena quite accurately—just from that front page photo!
And with a little help from my friends.
Eventually, those friends would be known loosely as the Friends of Flight 621. Comprised of eyewitnesses and the concerned, we would discover a lot of things about the crash. I mean, things other than the human bones of the crash victims that kept popping up, through the years, in the poorly cleaned-up field. It was bad enough discovering someone's skull pieces, finger joints, kneecap, arm or leg bone shards mixed amongst abandoned Douglas Aircraft parts…but then I discovered the truly unexpected!
That the crash didn't have to happen!
That EVEN AS the Air Canada DC-8 was on fire quite spectacularly, and in the early stages of crash sequence…there was still ample time to turn it all around…and save everyone on board! No lives need have been lost!!
'nuff said, for now—
Wait—one more thing—in the lower part of the picture the reader sees the ominous caption, "Pilot faced terrible choice-and nothing could help him".
Well, that's not true.
(this article, as all my articles are in this format, are usually revised several times , even days after posting)
© Paul Cardin - Friends of Flight 621
the right way to spend time on a flight
?check flight meals and ask a flight attendant to serve champagne ;)
?take off my makeup, put out my contact lens and wear glasses, and...bite a favorite chocolate 8-)
on AirFrance flight somewhere in the air
*camera -- polaroid sx-70 / *film -- polaroid600film(without NDfilter)
flights to the
FLIGHT TO ARRAS. SURELY I must be dreaming. It is as if I were fifteen again. I am back at school. My mind is on my geometry problem. Leaning over the worn black desk, I work away dutifully with compass and ruler and protractor. I am quiet and industrious. Near by sit some of my schoolmates, talking in murmurs. One of them stands at a blackboard chalking up figures. Others less studious are playing bridge. Out of-doors I see the branch of a tree swaying in the breeze. I drop my work and stare at it. From an industrious pupil I have become an idle one. The shining sun fills me with peace. I inhale with delight the childhood odor of the wooden desk, the chalk, the blackboard in this schoolhouse in which we are quartered. I revel in the sense of security born of this daydream of a sheltered childhood. What course life takes, we all know. We are children, we are sent to school, we make friends, we go to collegeand we are graduated. Some sort of diploma is handed to us, and our hearts pound as we arc ushered across a certain threshold, marched through a certain porch, the other side of which we are of a sud den grown men. Now our footfalls strike the ground with a new assurance. We have begun to make our way in life, to take the first few steps of our way in life. We are about to measure our strength against real adver saries. The ruler, the T square, the compass have become weapons with which we shall build a world, triumph over an enemy. Playtime is over. All this I see as I stare at the swaying branch. And I see too that schoolboys have no fear of facing life. They champ at the bit. The jealousies, the trials, the sorrows of the life of man do not intimidate the schoolboy. But what a strange schoolboy I am I sit in this schoolroom, a schoolboy conscious of my good fortune and in no hurry to face life. A schoolboy aware of its cares. . . . Dutertre comes by, and I stop him. Sit down. Ill do some card-tricks for you. Dutertre sits facing me on a desk as worn as mine. I can see his dangling legs as he shuffles the cards. How pleased with myself I am when I pick out the card he has in mind He laughs. Modestly, I smile. P6nicot comes up and puts his arm across my shoulder. What do you say, old boy How tenderly peaceful all this is A school usher is it an usher opens the door and summons two among us. They drop their ruler, drop their compass, get up, and go out. We follow them with our eyes. Their schooldays are over. They have been released for the business of life. What they have learnt, they are now to make use of. Like grown men, they are about to try out against other men the formulas they have worked out. Strange school, this, where each goes forth alone in turn. And without a word of farewell. Those two who have just gone through the door did not so much as glance at us who remain behind. And yet the hazard of life, it may be, will transport them farther away than China. So much farther When schooldays are past, and life has scattered you, who can swear that you will meet again The rest of us, those still nestling in the cosy warmth of our incubator, go back to our murmured talk. Look here, Dutertre. To-night. But once again the same door has opened. And like a court sentence the words ring out in the quiet school room Captain de Saint-Exupery and Lieutenant Dutertre report to the major Schooldays are over. Life has begun. Did you know it was our turn Penicot flew this morning. Oh, yes. The fact that we had been sent for meant that we were to be ordered out on a sortie...
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