Campfire

Skydiving anyone?

In the Answers section WA Mnthunter asked if anyone skydived. Mine is a long story so I am posting it here.

Several friends took a skydiving course freshman year of college. A week before our dive the instructor's plane crashed and killed everyone on board. That was enough for some. A few figured it was a tragic fluke and repeated the course with other instructors.

Our day finally arrived. A small country airfield in south central Michigan. We watched as parachutes opened high above us and skydivers glided into the landing area. A plane circled down and buzzed us, dipping a wing – our instructor. You could see his smile turn to terror when he noticed the big oak tree. The wings went vertical but he still trimmed off a few feet of branches and leaves. This was not starting out well.

Five of us got into that little Cessna. It was a bumpy cramped ride. I was taking a beating sliding around the bare metal floor. Finally, my turn. The last to jump. I just wanted off the plane, so didn’t hesitate to crawl out onto the wing struts. As an instructor hooked the tether to my ripcord he said to enjoy some extra free fall – he was giving me a long tether.

I braced against the struts, wind rushing past me, 3,000 feet of air beneath my feet. Insane, but better than getting back into that plane. I stepped off and let go. Training took over. We had been through the routine countless times. Spread eagle. Count down. Look up. If there is no chute then release the buckles on the main chute and pull the ripcord on the reserve. I counted and looked up. No chute, so both hands went up, unsnapping the buckle covers ... just as the chute opened. The extra free fall! They didn’t tell me to change my count. I had been on auto.

The filled chute snapped me upright. The world went quiet. I felt weightless. The horizon was far away. The airfield, the trees, the people - all so small. There was a collapsed chute on the ground but it was a long way from the airfield. Curious. Then came the crackle of the headphones - an instructor telling me to look for the bulls-eye. He guided me to the landing area. I hit the pea gravel standing rather than rolling. It was wondrous and over much too soon. I gathered my chute. I was pumped.

But things had not gone well for anyone else. Brad had a merry-go-round, his lines twisted so he spun a good way down before he got control. Tex had his testicles on the wrong side of the crotch straps when the chute opened. He held himself up rather than steer. They sent a truck to pick him up, a few fields over. He was pale and bow-legged. Jean had a Mae West - a cord caught over the center of his chute, making it look like a huge bra. He had to release his chute and use his reserve. It was his main chute off in the distance. Chris also tried to stand instead of roll when he landed. He broke a leg. I drove him to the hospital and back to the dorm in his 204Z. It was weeks before he could drive a stick shift again. I was the only one smiling, but decided there were other ways to get my thrills.

We gave up skydiving that day - June 17, 1977.