Tri-Motor Ford. (original) (raw)

LOTTIE AND THE TRI-MOTOR FORD by George Lester

My first plane ride came at the age of six in Waco, Texas. My mother was taking Sam and me on a pleasure jaunt in a Tri-Motor Ford making a few passes over town. The pilot informed us that each child had to be accompanied by an adult, and since my father had already said he wasn�t going to have anything to do with airplanes, that left only Lottie.

A Ford Tri-Motor on display at the Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola, Florida
Photo courtesy Sam Lester

Lottie was our maid, the one semblance of the better days when Dad�s business flourished in the oil fields of west Texas. She was more than just a maid to us; she was a companion to the entire family, and we loved her as much as if she were kin. Lottie didn�t hesitate when she was asked to go along. It was the first plane ride for her, too, and she was always ready for any adventure. In the years she had been with us, she had always accompanied us and participated in all our activities. She carried me through Carlsbad Cavern because I was too young to make it on my own. Now, boarding that Tri-Motor Ford was just one more quest with her adopted family.

After take-off we learned that there was to be a parachute jump from the plane. When we reached the proper altitude, the parachutist came out of the cockpit and walked down the narrow aisle. Even though this happened over seventy years ago, I can still remember looking at him with awe, knowing that in a few seconds he would be jumping out the door into thin air. Every little detail of his appearance remains in my memory - his aviator helmet, his blue coveralls, and his ruddy complexion. He looked as if he were blushing. Instead of wearing his parachute strapped to his back, it was merely stuffed into what looked like a pillowcase that was tethered to the plane. When he jumped, the canopy jerked out of the sack and opened beautifully as we peered out the window. We learned later that he was jumping on every trip, and it was more convenient to just pick up his chute, shake it out, and stuff it back in the sack again on the next trip. Now, I�m sure his red face came from the many leaps into the strong breeze that day. This was the most exciting thing I had seen in my young life, and I couldn�t wait for my next plane ride. I was hooked. I wasn�t the only one in the family who loved flying. Five of the six boys, including me, later became pilots.

Dad was on the ground, praying all the while, glad when it was all over. Lottie�s beaming face revealed that she had thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing. We asked her if she was going to tell all her friends about the plane ride. She thought about it for a minute and then said, with tongue in cheek, that after all the fabulous things she had done with the Lester family, she didn�t know if she wanted to mingle with the �common folks� anymore.

Dad invested what he had saved from the oil business into Hereford cattle, and that market went the way of the earlier oil bust. As a result, we could no longer afford to have a maid, so Lottie had to go to work for someone else. If we could have figured out a way to keep her in the family, we would have gladly done so. When she waved goodbye to us that last time I stood there alone looking down the road long after the car had disappeared.

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