Planes coming into and flying out of airports follow invisible but important lines. They are known as traffic patterns. Just like on the highways, when some rugged individualist decides to assert himself, someone gets hurt. Most pilots, however, stick to the rules. Traffic moves busily in and out with no difficulty. Each pilot knows what the other fellow is going to do.

When an airplane is ready to take off, the good book says the plane should be slowly turned around to the right on the ground. During this maneuver the pilot swivels his neck, scans the sky for incoming planes.

They tell me it's embarrassing to have one land on top of you just as you are taking off.

As the plane leaves the field, it is flown in a straight line until an altitude of 400 feet is reached. After a quick look back over your shoulder, turn left at 90 degrees. Climb to 600 feet in a straight line. Leave the "traffic pattern" in a 45-degree turn to the right.

Any other plane going out ahead of you, can be expected to follow this pattern. When approaching an airport, your plane should be at 800 feet. The approach should be made from an angle of 45 degrees into the downwind side. Following a line parallel to the runway and at least 1,000 feet out, you glide to the far end of the field and at least 1,000 feet beyond the end of the runway.

Two 90-degree left turns bring you over the end of the runway, headed into the wind. Upon landing, when your plane stops its ground roll, turn off the runway to the left. The other pilot behind you expects it.

I am just a little stupid about such things. Used to find myself on the end of the runway, couldn't remember which way to turn. I've picked up a little phrase to repeat upon taking-off and landing that jogs my memory. It's "right-run; left-land."

Due to particular hazards surrounding some airports or conflicting patterns such as we have between Smith Field and Municipal, sometimes the pattern is just reversed. You make a right-hand pattern instead of a left-hand pattern.

On familiar fields, you can see the hazards and know that a right-hand pattern should be made instead of left-hand. Or they tell you about them.

Before going into strange fields, you can look up their traffic pattern in several different directories and find out--or loaf around outside the pattern till you see some local duffer go in. Than follow him.

At airports where they have control towers, get the dope by radio if you have one. If not, watch for the green and red lights. If you get a green light flashed in your eyes, go on in. If red, circle around again. When you receive a "light" from the tower, wiggle your wings so the tower man will know you saw the light.

It is strict observation of the invisible lines through the air that promotes air safety. Consistent violators will sooner or later receive gifts of flowers and soft music. The guy who runs stop-signs with his car and the pilot that cuts an irregular pattern, both sleep in the same bed.

Air-Mail
Dr. George Starr, director of the Indiana university school of business, writes that "Sky Writing" is filling a public need. Dr. Starr says: "I think the column is one of the most significant things that has happened in the daily press." Thank you, Dr. Starr. The Warsaw Times has always tried to be a leader in its field. All they need is a writer to write it.

Robots and Uncle Joe
Uncle Joe Stalin isn't going to like the news of that robot plane of ours, flying the Atlantic by remote control. Probably gives him chills in the Kremlin. You know, they have gadgets in the nose of those planes so the operator in a distant place can see the ground beneath the robot plane, too.

One of the nation's top-ranking plane manufacturers told me recently that he believed, "The next war will be the most highly technical and terrible the world has ever seen. The one after that will be fought with clubs." Think it over.

Potluck dinner at the Rochester airport Sunday. Everybody with a dish is invited, meet old flying pals, do some hangar-flying.

Warsaw Daily Times Fri. Sept. 26, 1947