Flying the Hudson River Corridor

Flying the Hudson River Corridor


Ever since I moved out to the Philadelphia area, the Hudson River corridor in New York City has become one my favorite places to fly. It’s hard to overstate the beauty of the city from low over the river. Every time I have a family member or friend come to visit, I try and take them over to see the city from the air.

Each time I fly up the river I can’t believe that we are actually allowed to do so, flying below the tops of the buildings and close enough that you feel that you could reach and out touch them. The draw back to the Hudson River Corridor is that it can be busy, intimidating, and confusing. However, with some reading and preparation, the Skyline flight is easy to do and extremely rewarding.

Having the right weather is an important first step. The second step is try to arrive during ideal lighting conditions. If possible, select a smooth, calm day to make it easier to maintain a track down the correct side of the river. I always try and target arrival at the city around sunset. The view is spectacular any time of day, but having the lights from the city while the sun is just setting gives the best viewing. I’ve also flown over and done the whole flight after dark, which is always spectacular.

View of the World Trade Center

The first method of flying the river is to utilize VFR flight following. If the controllers aren’t too busy, they will provide advisories to aircraft that request the Skyline. The nice thing about doing it this way is that the controller will clear you into the NY bravo airspace and keep you above the traffic flying the Skyline in the VFR corridor below. This is the method that I have always preferred as I enjoy the added benefit of the traffic advisories and it’s nice not to worry about position reporting on the radio.

If you want to get flight following, head toward the corridor and request the Skyline route with NY Approach. (Remember to stay clear of the Bravo until you’re cleared in!) Once you’re cleared into the Bravo and approaching the corridor, they will hand you off to Newark/ LaGuardia Tower for traffic advisories over the river. I like to approach from the south and ask for a 180 over the George Washington Bridge. This allows me to fly past the city a second time before exiting the corridor over the VZ (Verrazano Bridge) and heading back toward home.

In red is the path I typically fly. I descend to 1400’ and fly toward the APPLE intersection picking up the shoreline around Staten Island and hugging it until crossing the middle of the VZ. Newark normally clears me into the Bravo at 1400’ or 1500’ to fly up the corridor.


  • Better traffic Awareness
  • No position reports


  • Flying slightly higher reduces the view
  • If the controllers are busy, they may deny your request for advisories  
  • Can be intimidating to talk to NY Approach/ Newark/ LaGuardia 

The other option is to fly in the VFR corridor. If you want to do it via this method there are just a few things you need to make sure you’re familiar with before you go. When in the VFR corridor you’ll need to make required position reports on a CTAF frequency. Make sure that you have the proper charts and have studied pictures of the landmarks so that you know what you’re looking for. I tend to plan on this as a backup in the event that the controllers won’t give me advisories.


  • Doesn’t require talking to controllers/ class B clearance
  • More freedom to select altitude and routing as desired


  • Less traffic awareness
  • Required position reporting

All the requirements and guidelines for flying the corridor can be found on the back of the NYC TAC chart. Any pilot flying the river is required to have one of these or a NYC helicopter route chart on board. If you’re using Foreflight, look in the Documents section under FAA Fly Charts and select the NYC TAC chart in order to read the back of page.

Below you’ll find examples of the diagrams/ instructions printed on the back of the NYC TAC charts.

You can see the traffic flow requires northbound airplanes to hug the east side of the river, while the southbound traffic stays on the west side. The VFR reporting positions (listed from North to South) are: Alpine Tower, George Washington Bridge, Intrepid aircraft carrier, Goldman Sachs (clock), Statue of Liberty, VZ (Verrazano Bridge). Each position report should include aircraft type, position, direction, and altitude.

Other things to be aware of:
NYC is always a hotspot for TFR’s. There are often TFR’s for baseball games or presidential movements so make sure to check before you head that way. Additionally, there is a speed restriction in place of 140 kts, though I’m not sure why anyone sightseeing would want to go that fast anyhow.

I realize that all of the procedures and restrictions can be overwhelming, but with the proper preparation, the Hudson Skyline is one of the most incredible places in the world to operate an airplane. There are a lot of things that are easy to get excited about that don’t live up to expectation, but this isn’t one of them. I’ve never taken anyone to the river that wasn’t impressed by what they saw and that’s why I plan to keep going back.

About to cross the VZ looking north toward the city

A Sad Reminder


It was a rainy Thursday afternoon and I was eating lunch with my family when my phone rang. My wife and I had just been discussing how miserable the weather was, so it was only natural that about 30 minutes later I was soaking wet and sitting in one of our Aerostars getting ready to take off for Ohio. I didn’t have much information about who I would be flying, or why, but I knew that I was going to pick someone up to fly them home; something about a missing airplane. So off I went into the muck. My biggest concern at that point being whether or not my clothes would ever dry out.

I arrived uneventfully and walked happily into the FBO, but found myself quickly in a very different atmosphere. It turned out I had two passengers to pick up, a husband and wife, and they had arrived at the FBO before me. As I walked in the door, the wife received a phone call. The person on the phone told her that search teams had found her father’s airplane crashed in the woods and that he was dead. I learned the rest of the details quickly and it was hard to stomach.

She was travelling home that day to be with family until they were able to locate her father. She was pregnant with her first baby and was in her third trimester. The baby was to be her dad’s first grandchild. He’d owned a Lake Amphibian for years and had stayed at home to work while his wife was out of town. He was last seen leaving work on Tuesday of that week and was reported missing on Thursday by his co-workers. Airport security footage showed him pulling the airplane out and taking off at 20:48 (after sunset) on Tuesday night.

After a few minutes we loaded the Aerostar and took off. It was the saddest flight I’ve ever done. Understandably, my passanger sobbed on and off from the time she got off the phone until we landed a couple of hours later. The weather seemed appropriate as we flew along through the rain and were greeted at our destination by a grief stricken family and a few reporters.

I said a sad goodbye and left, but I couldn’t help but think about their situation. It really hit close to home with me as it was easy to draw parallels between my family and theirs: she was very close in age to me and pregnant with her first child. My wife and I were new parents. Her dad had owned his airplane for about the same length of time that my dad has owned his Bonanza. Additionally, it isn’t uncommon for my parents to go a couple days without being able to reach each other because they both travel.

A Lake 250, the same type of aircraft involved in the accident.

But what happened..?

In the time since the accident, the NTSB has published their findings and unfortunately, it makes the situation sadder. It was completely avoidable.

Airport security cameras showed that after removing the airplane from the hangar, the pilot did not complete a preflight inspection or even a walkaround of any kind. He simply climbed in and left. The investigators were unable to find any traces or odor of fuel in the wreckage, nor any mechanical abnormalities with the airplane. In fact, according to the report, the engine was put on a test stand and ran perfectly. It would seem that the pilot simply never checked the fuel quantity and took off. The airport cameras captured the take off and a bright flash about 30 seconds after the aircraft departed.

Here is an excerpt from the report:

The National Transportation Safety Board determines the probable cause(s) of this accident as follows:  The pilot’s attempted 180-degree return to the runway immediately after takeoff in dark night conditions, which resulted in collision with trees and terrain. Also causal was the pilot’s inadequate preflight inspection, which resulted in a takeoff with little-to-no fuel on board the airplane.

Interestingly, the report also details their ability to use logbook information and fuel receipts to show the airplane was taken on a long cross country on its last flight and likely not fueled again.
Another thing which stuck out in my mind upon learning the details of the crash was how important it is to let someone know when you’re going flying. Having another person know roughly when a flight is leaving, where it’s going and and when to expect it back could potentially save the lives of the people on board. In the case of this accident, the pilot didn’t alert anyone that he was going flying and therefore, no one realized he was missing for 2 days.

From reading the NTSB report I don’t get the impression that he survived the crash, but I can’t help thinking about the possibility that he, or others in similar circumstances, could survive a crash and then die from their injuries because no one knew to look for them. When I flew charter, we weren’t legally allowed to take off VFR without letting someone at the company know the details of the flight. I’ve adopted this as my personal policy as well. One text message could be the difference between being rescued or not.

Finally, every pilot should ensure that a proper walk around is completed! It’s easy to assume everything is okay with an airplane, especially one that no one else has access too. In addition to a thorough preflight, I like to walk all the way around the airplane and visual check fuel caps, doors, chocks, ropes, etc., immediately before getting in to ensure that everything is ready. I know a couple of pilots who have taken off with various panels and compartments open simply because they got distracted during their walk around and never closed them. (A good policy is to never walk away and leave something open). Perhaps even more mind boggling is that he apparently didn’t look at the fuel gauges after start up and before take off. I also have to wonder how much fuel he had remaining upon completion of the previous flight.

“Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous. But to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any carelessness, incapacity or neglect” is likely a familiar quote to just about every pilot. It is often written on a poster with a picture of an old timey bi-plane hanging out of a tree, but I think that it is absolutely on point. Carelessness in the preflight and neglecting basic pilot responsibilities (in this case fuel planning) cost this father his life and his opportunity to meet his first grandchild.

I know this article is a real downer, but it’s supposed to be. Its tragic that accidents take place which are completely avoidable. Obviously this case was beyond the normal realm of carelessness and neglect, but, we as pilots need to be extremely careful not to get so comfortable with an airplane that we stop doing the things which are so basic and important to safety. One of my professors in school used to say “aviation is fun, but it plays for keeps,” which is an effective way to remind myself how important it is to do it right.

*Out of respect to the family, I have not included any specific names, tail numbers or airports in this article.

Oh, Deer (Part 3)


Read Part 1 & Part 2

Throughout the whole event, I learned quite a few things both about flying and about myself. Here are some of the lessons which I have taken away from the accident:

  1. No flight is routine: When I took off that morning I was about as relaxed as I could have been while going to fly. I was flying an airplane that I knew well, in beautiful weather, to familiar airports and even carrying passengers which I had taken on this exact trip more than a dozen times. The accident brought into startling clarity that anything can happen at any time. I had done everything right that morning (preflight, weather briefing, planning, etc) , and none of that did anything to stop the deer from jumping out onto the runway. All we can do is ensure the items we do have control over are covered and try to be prepared to deal with anything else that arises. This ties directly into my next point:
  2. Making sure everything is correct: When you do go fly, make sure that you have all your paperwork and personal details taken care of. I can think of a few times over the course of my flying career where something wasn’t quite right with the paperwork, or perhaps I had forgotten my wallet and I was tempted to go fly anyway. “It’s 8pm on Sunday, I’m not going to get ramp checked.” Well, I can assure you that the paperwork and questionnaires which were required to be submitted to the FAA, NTSB, and Insurance companies would have uncovered any discrepancies in my logbooks, currency, or legality. It isn’t worth the risk of flying without having everything in place just in case something happens. It isn’t just a random ramp check which can get a pilot into trouble.
  3. Ask for help: The story of my collision with a deer would have had a very different outcome if it weren’t for the help that I received from countless the people on the ground. If you’re ever in a situation where you could use a hand, don’t be afraid to ask for help. If I had simply turned around and landed back at Wings, I wouldn’t even have had any idea that my landing gear was missing! The people in the control tower, the maintenance guys, the approach controllers in Philly, the emergency responders, and many more people all played their part in orchestrating a successful outcome.

    Airplane sitting on the runway after the firefighters had checked it out
    Photo credit:

  4. Dealing with the Paperwork: I have had dealings with the FAA before, but never for an accident. I was afraid that the investigation would be a witch hunt and I would have to defend myself while someone poured over all my planning and paperwork looking for potential errors. But, my fears were totally unfounded. Although I did have to answer many phone calls, write many reports, and fill out much paperwork, the FAA, NTSB, and Insurance companies were very patient in waiting for my responses and even complimentary in how the situation played out. I really enjoyed working with all of them and appreciated their encouragement and help.
  5. Emotional Response: After the dust had settled and the smoke had cleared, I was left standing on the side of the runway with the passengers and my boss. I offered to fly them back to Philadelphia or continue to Pittsburgh and assured our Chief Pilot that I was feeling fine and ready to fly again. Fortunately, there wasn’t a need. Over the next week or two, I noticed a change in myself. I wasn’t fine. I have never had headaches, but shortly after I landed I developed a headache that didn’t go away for days. I had trouble focusing on anything and I had trouble finding motivation to do much but sit and stare at a wall. I wasn’t sharp and I caught myself making silly mistakes in my normally routine activities. I wasn’t depressed, or sad, it was just an unwanted mental and physiological response to the stress and shock of what happened that morning in the Baron. I didn’t feel like myself for quite some time and I even found myself a little on edge whenever I lined up for takeoff on subsequent charters for while afterward. Eventually I started to feel normal again, but it was a slow process.
  6. Feather the Props: I can’t tell you what a difference it makes when those props go from wind milling to feathered. It became clear to me that feathering a prop could make a huge difference in deciding the outcome of an emergency situation.
  7. Good training and checklists usage: This one is pretty straight forward, but it’s worth mentioning. Good training and proficiency make all the difference when the odds are against you. Make sure that you use all your resources when your back is against the wall, and that includes the checklists. Under the stress of the flight I had forgotten to close the cowl flaps and would likely have landed with them open without the aid of the Emergency Procedures Checklist. This would have resulted in unnecessary damage to the airframe.
  8. No need to rush: There is no denying that I had things stacked in my favor that day. I had nice weather, extra gas, daylight hours, and even the luxury of landing at my home airport. But, regardless of all those variables, there is no need to rush into anything. Ask questions, find answers and come up with a plan. Obviously not all emergencies present the pilot with the luxury of time, but use all time and resources you have to your advantage.
  9. Polish up those procedures: The deer accident really made me want to go out and brush up on all the emergency procedures which I hadn’t performed since my last checkride. The realization that I could need any of them at any time was really hit home after I hit that deer. Additionally, make sure you know who to call if something ever does happen.
  10. Know the systems: Familiarity with the systems on the airplane makes it easier to troubleshoot and solve issues on the fly and makes it easier to spot a problem in the first place. Knowing how systems work and what their normal indications should be helps make decisions regarding when to divert and where to land easier.

The irony isn’t lost on me that the last article that I wrote for this newsletter dealt with how to avoid making gear up landings and the high cost required to repair one. I never would have imagined when I wrote that article last fall that I would be writing one only a few months later detailing my own gear up landing.

The bottom line is that there is nothing a person can do to prepare for every situation which might arise throughout the course of a flight, and it’s also impossible to know which emergency you may have to deal with if a situation arises. All we can do is stack odds in our favor by making sure that we address the things within our control such as aircraft maintenance, careful flight planning, checking weather, and having personal minimums set in place to keep us from flying outside of our skill sets and comfort zones.

Additionally, ensuring that you are knowledgeable and proficient in your aircraft’s procedures will give you the best chance for success. When things start going wrong, keep calm, and ask for help. Work the problem instead of guessing or rushing into a less than desirable solution. No one wants to be caught in an emergency like a deer in a landing light!

Andrew Robinson is an airline pilot for Piedmont Airlines.  He is a former 135 Charter Pilot and flight instructor who lives with his wife and 2 daughters in Pennsylvania.  He instructs in Beechcraft Bonanzas.

Oh, Deer (Part 2)


Read Part 1 Here

Only now did I begin to realize the severity of the situation. The deer had completely broken the left main gear off of the airplane. Obviously, landing in this condition would not be ideal. Landing without a nose wheel is one thing, but landing without one of the mains would be a very dangerous and undesirable proposition.

The company’s maintenance guys arrived on the scene while I executed a few more low passes so that they could take a look. We all came to the same conclusion that the best situation for landing would be to retract the other two wheels so I could land on the belly. Unfortunately, the landing gear wouldn’t retract. Cranking the emergency gear handle didn’t work either as it is not designed to bring the wheels up, only to put them down.

I flew circles around the airport for a while as different options were all discussed. I owe a lot to the guys on the ground who were digging through the manuals coming up with solutions. Eventually, it was decided that I would try cranking the gear up by hand, even though the checklist in the airplane said that it could only be used to lower the gear. Even if we damaged the hand cranking mechanism, it would be worthwhile…plus, I’d already torn off the left main entirely, surely a little damage to the retraction mechanism wouldn’t be the end of the world!

Following the checklist, I pulled the CB for the gear motor and started cranking. To my great relief, the “in transit” light illuminated and the three green indication went away. It was difficult work to crank the gear up manually. The handle is in a very poor location in Barons and Bonanzas, plus I was working against gravity. It is also possible that there was some debris from the missing wheel causing friction or binding. While I was cranking, the rescue crews were being coordinated while extra vehicles and people had been called in from the city for support.

After some time had passed, enough to get a slightly sore arm from cranking, the lights indicated that the gear was up and locked. I lined up for one more pass hoping to verify that the landing gear was up and the landing gear doors were closed. After the final go ahead from everyone on the ground, all that was left was the landing.

I had been doing my best to keep the passengers informed of what was happening throughout the whole flight, but I felt bad for them as the news changed from the beginning of the flight: “precautionary landing” was quite different than the briefing I ended up giving them before we landed. I informed them that I was going to be “… killing the engines and landing with the gear up….” They did an impressive job of staying calm and being responsive. Before we landed, I made sure that they were all briefed on what to expect, how to unbuckle, and how to evacuate from the airplane. It is difficult to convince someone that everything is going to be fine when there are hordes of emergency vehicles (including ambulances) waiting next to the runway in anticipation of your landing.

Shortly before landing, I went through my flows and callouts, then verified by use of the checklist to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. I distinctly remember sitting in the airplane preparing for the landing, all the while being in complete disbelief that this was a real situation. I never imagined that I could be flying an airplane that was missing a wheel strut. Previously, my assumption had been that if there was an event serious enough to shear off one of my mains, the airplane wouldn’t continue flying. It all seemed like a bad dream.

I elected to use runway 26 since it was the longest. I wanted to be able to carry extra speed in order to give myself extra time between pulling the mixtures and landing so that I could feather the props and turn the fuel shut off valves to the off position (never thought I’d have to do that!) without being rushed. As I made my final approach with the engines shut off, I went through my final memory items and couldn’t help but laugh about just how backwards everything was from normal arrival procedure. GUMPS: Gas- Off (normally on the fullest tank), Under carriage- Up (Definitely not normal), Mixtures- Idle cut off (I normally save this for when I’m parked on the ramp), Props- Feathered (Again, never thought I’d have to do that in real life), Seatbelts- On (the only one that stayed the same!).

On final approach for runway 26 with the gear up and the props feathered.
Photo Credit:

I’ve had several remarks about how quiet the airplane must have been during the final un-powered glide to the runway, and while that is absolutely true, I must confess that I never noticed. I was so focused on the task at hand that the silence in the airplane simply wasn’t something that stuck out to me. What did make an impression on me, however, was the acceleration the airplane experienced when the props were feathered. I’ve heard it preached many times the importance of feathering the propeller on a dead engine, but never truly appreciated the importance of it until I did it myself. I remember the airplane accelerating noticeably as though I had hit a boost button which was hidden somewhere in the cockpit for just such an occasion.

Although I didn’t notice the lack of noise upon killing the engines, the sickening, deafening noise which was produced during the touchdown and deceleration is something which I will never forget. Another thing that surprised me was the smoke which filled the cockpit and cabin as we slowed down. This was produced by the friction between the belly and the runway, although nothing was burning.

I don’t know how long the airplane actually slid for after touching down, but it felt like an eternity. However, when the noise subsided and the motion stopped everything returned to real time. I unfastened my seat belt, opened the door and climbed out onto the wing. I helped the passengers evacuate and we retreated to a safe distance on the side of the runway while the firefighters rushed in to do their job.

It was 8:35 am. So, from the time we took off to the time we landed was almost exactly an hour and a half. Not surprisingly, the passengers elected not to continue on to Pittsburgh and instead accepted a ride home in a car. The rest of my day was a blur of paperwork, reports, and phone calls.

To Be Continued…

Read Part 3 Here

Andrew Robinson is an airline pilot for Piedmont Airlines.  He is a former 135 Charter Pilot and flight instructor who lives with his wife and 2 daughters in Pennsylvania.  He instructs in Beechcraft Bonanzas.

Oh, Deer (Part 1)


As far as I knew when I woke up, October 26, 2016 would be an ordinary day for me. It was a Wednesday, and I was scheduled to fly our Company’s BE58 Baron on a charter from Wings Field (KLOM), a non-towered airport just north of Philadelphia, to Pittsburgh International Airport (KPIT) and spend the day there waiting for my 3 passengers to finish up their meetings. The plan was to fly them back to Wings that evening and then make the short hop back to home base at Lancaster, PA. (KLNS).

It was a flight that I had done countless times, and I was comfortable with the airports, the passengers, and the airplane. Everything went smoothly that morning and my short flight from Lancaster to Wings was uneventful. I even made it there in time to spill coffee all down the front of my pants before my passengers arrived. The weather was clear, calm and beautiful as we loaded into the Baron and the sun was just starting to come up as I taxied toward runway 24 for departure. I was departing VFR and had an IFR plan on file which I intended to pick up with Harrisburg Approach once we were airborne. According to my calculations, I was on schedule to be drinking my coffee at the Pittsburgh FBO right around 8:30.

At 7:05, I advanced the throttles for departure. A few moments later, I received a very unpleasant surprise. I was quickly approaching rotation speed when 2 deer ran onto the runway directly in front of the aircraft. It was still dark enough that I was relying on my landing/ taxi lights to illuminate the runway for take-off.  As a result, I was unable to see the animals before it was too late. I don’t remember making a conscious decision to pull back on the yoke, but it was that or plow directly into them at about 85 knots. I pulled up as quickly as I could and the airplane rotated immediately.  A fraction of a second later I heard and felt a sickening THUD.

There was no doubt that I had hit one of them, but, somewhat unbelievably, the airplane was climbing as though nothing had happened. I put the nose down to get the airspeed back up and began to try and piece together what damage the airplane had sustained. Based on the noise and the feeling of the impact, my suspicion was that I had hit the deer with the left main landing gear. A review of the instrumentation showed no abnormalities and the airplane was behaving normally, so I didn’t suspect any damage to the airframe/ flight controls. I couldn’t see anything out the windows that looked unusual, and somewhat unbelievably I still had 3 green lights.

After gaining a safe amount of speed and altitude, I turned around and told the passengers that we had hit a deer. It was obvious that we had hit something and I was sure that they wanted to know what was going on. Then, I checked all my indications again and satisfied with what I was seeing, tried to bring up the landing gear. No dice. When I pulled the gear lever to the up position, the master “GEAR UP” warning light came on and I got a horn. There was never any change in the 3-green indication and the gear motor never came to life at all.

At this point it was obvious that, minimally I was going to have to divert to Lancaster and have the maintenance guys look at the airplane to see if anything was broken. I figured that they would either give me the green light to continue or I would just jump into one of our PC12s and complete the trip while they worked on the Baron.

The landing gear’s refusal to come up was my first indication that there was substantial damage. I set course for Lancaster and called our Chief Pilot. After explaining the situation to him, we agreed that KLNS was the best option and that he would let the maintenance guys know that I was coming.

The logic was that proceeding to Lancaster would allow a visual check of the landing gear by maintenance people as well as the tower and result in the safest outcome if an emergency landing were required. Lancaster would likely have better services available in terms of emergency responders and, not to mention, I was fairly certain that there was a dead deer on the only runway at Wings that I didn’t feel like hitting for a second time. In addition, the relatively long runway at Lancaster combined with light traffic at that time of day made it the ideal option to divert to.

I again turned around to brief the passengers. I told them that we were going to have to make precautionary landing before continuing to our intended destination and that I would be performing a few low passes for the tower.

Due to the drag from the landing gear, the flight to Lancaster seemed to take forever. The long cruise home, however, gave me time to try and reach someone on the ground at Wings in hope of having the runway inspected and cleaned off before other traffic tried to use it. After several attempts to raise anyone on the Unicom/ CTAF frequency, I called Philadelphia Approach for help instead. Philly answered right away and I explained to them what had happened. I requested that they call over to Wings on the phone or send someone out to check the runway. They told me that they would get it done and asked if there was any other way that they could assist me. I told them I was headed to Lancaster and that I appreciated their offer, but didn’t require any further assistance. I then switched over to Lancaster Tower and let them know that I was about 15-20 minutes out, but I would need to perform a couple of passes to have them check my gear. The tower cleared me for a low approach over runway 26.

I arrived at LNS at about 7:30. I performed my first low pass by the tower, not really expecting anything to appear out of place. I figured I had bent something or damaged the squat switch, but not much more. I climbed to pattern altitude and awaited the good word. Shortly after the fly-by, Tower reported that the left main gear didn’t appear to be down and locked. They suggested that I make another pass. The airport maintenance personnel chimed in, reporting the same. We had just started discussing whether cranking the gear a little by hand might help when Philly approach called the Lancaster tower on the phone.

Philly informed Lancaster that someone had inspected the runway at Wings and found the left main strut and wheel in the grass. I quickly concluded that cranking the gear down probably wouldn’t help!

This was found in the grass by the runway at Wings Field

To Be Continued…

(Read Part 2 Here)

Andrew Robinson is an airline pilot for Piedmont Airlines.  He is a former 135 Charter Pilot and flight instructor who lives with his wife and 2 daughters in Pennsylvania.  He instructs in Beechcraft Bonanzas.