I can relate one second hand to ya.... Jim Bohr, an old buddy, and a friend were driving along a back road in Illinois headed to an airport to jump, Somewhere along the way, they spot this seven/eight foot tall budding pot plant growing next to a fence line and not too far from a farmhouse. According to Jim, they screeched to a halt, jumped out, grabbed the plant and stuffed it in the back seat and took off. After half an hour or so they see flashing red lights in the rear view and a cop eventually overtakes them, stops them and arrests them. Seems the local Sheriff had planted the damn thing next to his house to entice such an act and catch the perps who got it. Seems like his wife called her hubby and gave em a description of the car and they ended up arrested, fined, spent a night in jail and were released the next day. Don't know if he ever went back for the trial....
A DZ that I worked at once had a McNasty maybe a mile and change off the runway. Every now & then I guess he'd skip his Meds and go full bore bananas.
There were stories of the times he'd called the FAA, called the local cops, he called the Governor even or so I'd heard...always with outlandish complaints or accusations about those damn 'People' and the 'Cult' that 'They' had going.
Loud music, dancin' around a fire and then that SEX!
Stories told of threats made from time to time in town, occasional nasty messages were left on the phone...the outhouse would get destroyed every winter with 'Farmer Mac' as the obvious suspect.
The only actual events I personally witnessed were~
One time some jumpers did a cross country sunset type thing. They got out several miles away and tried to make it back. Unfortunately da-boyz were coming up short, you guessed it...pretty damn close to the Old McNasty Farm.
They knew better than to actually LAND there but had to fly over it low enough to get shot at. I picked the gang up in the DZ's flatbed truck, all of 'em walking toward the far side of the runway.
"That crazy SOB was SHOOTING at us!" was one of the more mildly worded comments.
"Any leaky holes in anybody?" I asked half joking.
Two of the guys did a pretty good canopy inspect back at the clubhouse, checking for holes in the bottom skin... We finally figured out it was a shotgun when the lowest guy found 4-5 pellets of #5 buckshot inside the cells.
Maybe two months later I actually got to 'meet' old grumpy guts.
No Shit There I Was~ it was about 2am and as we're carefully with unprecedented expertise, evaluating the subtle but distinct differences between about 20 different commercially manufactured high quality adult beverages by the bonfire...
Out of nowhere behind us we hear an engine roaring and see headlights suddenly pop on. It's an old Dodge pickup and it's ~Haulin' The Mail~ right at the lawn-chairs we are occupying.
Gravel, dirt, grass, elbows and ass flying everywhere as we jumpers scramble to the relative safety of the back side shadows next to a deeply dug two hole-er.
Flattening a few pieces of the finest aluminum furniture K-mart has to offer for under a saw-buck, the ole red Dodge ('bout a '63 - '64 long-bed) skids to a halt almost on top of our glowing fire.
The driver door opens up and laughing like a USDA certified lunatic, this out of control scarecrow with a green & yellow 'Dekalb Seed Corn' hat, that was set 20 degrees off Top Dead Center...starts blowing a huge CO2 fire extinguisher into the embers.
"You SumBiches with yer SumBitchin' bonfires are gonna SumBitchin' push me too far one-er themthere SumBitichin' days!"
"All SumBitichin' night me and the Musses got smell SumBitichin' smoke...the onlyest thing I hate MORE than you bunch a SumBitiches, is SumBitichin' SMOKE!"
Like I said, this was a couple of months after the shotgun incident, and drunk or not, discretion ALWAYS being the better part of valor...we melted into the shadows even more.
Extinguisher empty and the fire all but out, I can hear shit being slammed around & a few more SumBitch rants as I stealthily made my way alone, out toward my car.
Keeping low and quiet with my Pontiac between McNasty & me while I formulate a plan...with absolutely NO concern for MY personal safety and thinking ONLY of the welfare of my brethren Skydivers...
I figure once the 'shooting' starts and Mr. McNut-Ball is busy, I'll bravely hop in the Goat and haul ass toward town 20 miles away.
You know...Go for Help and stuff like that!
The McNasty Mobile is slowly moving toward the parking lot, there's a lotta yelling back and forth but no gun-play...there WAS quite a barrage of cans, both empty & full, bouncing off of and around the slow moving truck as it eased through the darkness toward the exit.
Old Bastard almost seemed to be enjoying the target practice, I could quite distinctly hear the whistling tone his 2 tooth laugh created...
I could most-prolly HEAR it so well because he passed windows down within 20 feet of me, crouching fearlessly on the far side of that black GTO. . .
MAY have been a bit farther but I doubt it.
Didn't take any real skill at all to sling that Violet M-18 through the passenger window...
We ALL kinda beat-feet outta there, a real 'No Delay-Emergency Exit' so to speak...
The bonfire was out, the beer was gone, the party was over...besides, nobody wanted to hear anymore whining about how much McNastyAss ~HATES SMOKE!
Sunday morning there wasn't a lotta discussion regarding the previous night's entertainment.
Some head shaking & low murmurs, pretty subdued...might have been the Staff's headache epidemic, or maybe the anticipatory glances everyone was constantly making up & down the road.
We weren't sure what to expect... 'on edge' would be a fair description as we readied the plane & student gear for business, and our dedicated weekly up-jumpers straggled in.
That is until the old 8-track in hangar started blaring out the church-day choir music to 'our' little cult, pretty easy to know which ones were at the party...they were the 4 or 5 lookin' at me laughing.
I didn't make the connection until Monsignor Hendrix himself began gracing the devoted with:
~ PURPLE HAZE all in my brain- Lately things just don't seem the same- Actin' funny, but I don't know why ...... .....'Scuse me while I Kiss the Sky!
Sitting here reminiscing 30 some years later, I can't help but wonder what song would have been playin' ...had I grabbed the RED smoke instead!
(This post was edited by airtwardo on Jan 29, 2012, 12:49 AM)
Beaver Valley Skydivers 1974. I had a floating ripcord on my second clear and pull. Rather than waste time looking and grabbing around I just dumped the belly mounted, un-modified, 24" flat twill Switlick sans pilot chute and watched it snake out and blossom. I oscillated wildly but put the lines behind my shoulders to be suspended more upright then landed in Farmer McNastys woods. As I curbed the palpitations and calmed down I heard him coming up the hill towards me so tore the canopy out of the limbs and beat feet outta there. He was cussin' and swearin' his way towards me when I got to the barbed wire fence and made it over. A couple guys had run up the hill knowing that I'd landed in McNastys woods and came to assist rather than have to beg for the gear back later.
I remember one of the boys landing in farmer McNastys paddock one day, and getting out of his gear ready for the inevitable argument....Mcnasty claims he's gonna confiscate the rig, and is warned not to touch it. He then grabs the reserve and dumps it in a water trough....
Next thing he finds himself flat on his back with blood pouring from his nose, having been the recipient of a beautiful left hook....
Last day at Phoenix/Zhills. A couple of guys took it a little low and ended up in McNasty's pasture. They decided to pack up for the walk out. McN and his son(?) drove up and parked with one wheel on top of one of the rigs and forced them off his property at gunpoint without their rigs. Never did hear how that finally ended up. BTW- on that jump the two guys came from Lk Wales in their Cessna and joined us in an impromptu formation jump with the TO.
Skydive Pepperell. There's a property just across the river no more than a couple hundred feet off the DZ with a small private oval horse track as its main feature. Nothing else there but trees and nowhere else to go.
Thermals off the runway combine with the typical prevailing winds there and lightly loaded student canopies means students and newbs have a strong tendency to get stuck downwind if they're dumb enough to go downwind in the first place. Unable to break through the thermal wall or get penetration across the river, they wind up in the horse track. Even with a 135 at 1.2 I've learned to stay very wary of that area.
My first canopy off student status was a worn out PD 210 loaded at about .75 which was great for annoying the hell out of everybody because when I figured out the thermal off the runway I'd go hang out on it for 5 minutes after everyone else had landed. People on the ground going "Dammit Lurch will you quit that and get down here, we wanna put up another load!" I'd be happily surfing up and down the runway at 1200 feet sometimes gaining as much as 50 feet in any given pass. I coulda kept it up all day, till I slipped off the downwind side of the thermal and couldn't get back on it.
Old jumpers had warned me about the Horse Lady, said there might have been some bad blood from some kind of shenanigans that may or may not have gone on about 30 years prior involving what may or may not have been a Cessna, an empty 6 pack of Corona, spotting practice, and a roof. This is after the lady bought the property, next to an airport, and then proceeded to try to shut it down whining about the noise.
But last I'd heard rumor had it the Horse Lady was dead, and in any case, I figured out I was hosed and like it or not I was gonna have my first off field landing same as everyone else does, in the horse track. Made my decision, busted out the landing, stood it up in the brambly stuff, feeling very proud of myself. Plane flies over, aerial recon checking on me. I wave, I'm fine. Theres a house on the property. I'm hiking across the track heading for where I think the driveway is just around the corner of some trees, and the door opens.
Hell hath no fury... I don't even remember what she looked like. Impression was Morgan LeFay. From maybe 150 feet away she begins to SHRIEK... not just shouting or yelling but the ragged, cheese-grater on the eardrums cracked shriek of someone having a full-on psychotic emotional meltdown: "GET OUT!!!! (points at driveway) THATS THE WAY OUT! NO!!! SHUT...UP!!! DO NOT OPEN YOUR MOUTH!!! DO NOT OPEN YOUR MOUTH!!! SHUT UP!! I'M CALLING THE COPS!!! GET OUT! SHUT UP!!!
I'm standing there stunned, which quickly turned to anger, then defiance, followed by awareness that as a skydiver my behavior reflects on all of us. So I can't be as much of a dick as I'd like to, but I can NOT let this go unchallenged.
I waited patiently till she ran out of breath and was forced to take a pause in her repeated shrieks about not opening my mouth. I then tipped my borrowed student Pro-Tec to her like a proper gentleman and shouted back politely in a jaunty happy tone, "Thank you, have a nice day!" I then sauntered out of sight along her driveway, taking all the time in the world, acting like I owned the place with a lot of body language, all strut and swagger.
The second I was out of sight of the house itself, I RAN. Reached the end of the driveway just as my pickup car arrived. I piled in in a hurry like "Lets get the fuck out of here!"
The next time I landed there maybe sometime in the next two years, another jumper name of Allison who happens to be police a few towns over, also got stuck on the far side of the river and landed out with me. I felt MUCH better having a cop handy right about then actually, but I was disappointed and never got to see how that would have played out because there was no response from the house and we got off the property without seeing a soul.
That was now almost ten years ago, and I think, judging by the lack of stories from others who've landed there in the years between, that the Horse Lady is definitely dead by now. If there's any justice, judging by her demeanor she probably died of an apocalyptic stress-stroke that made her skull explode like those people from "Scanners".
First time really didn't have a problem picked up my shit and walked out the gate. Even closed it behind us like my mom taugght me to do.
The second time was at least a few yr's after Z-hills was gone. Skydive city never said whatever you don't land there..
We land in the lottle horse thing again picked up our shit and the gate was chained and locked
Thats when I knew I landed in the wrong place. Farmer's don't like people climbing over their gates and fences it can screw them up. Thats why they have the user friendly triangle things to get over the wire.
Scratch head, Scratch butt quickly, looked around the Barbed wire fence line, found a low spot in the terrain and crawled under the bottom strung of barbed wire and never even saw McNasty or got my shit caught on the wire.
I think The DZM was I landed there. To bad dude you should have let us know before we jumped.
You story about the McNasty horse lady reminds me jumping at Molla.
Mcnasty owned the property on one side on the DZ. There wa rumored incident of a family picnic and some kind of a skydiving incident that ruined the farmers picnic and the jumper day.
We were told under no uncertain terms do not land over there the DZO had to pay a fee for every landing on Mcnasty's property.
No problem we were warned don't go there.
We came down from Seattle to jump their sweet westwind and Mike (so to becoome naked mike) was a very experienced jumper a local and spoted the load.
Mike was hungover or something and we ended up fo far from the DZ we couldn't even fined it. There crops on one side of the the road and livestock on the other.
I split the difference landed on the road. some landed on either side of the road. I picked up mt shit wasked back in the direction where everone would be coming out if the Fields from either side of the road. Until....
I noticed a couple come out of the farmhouse one had their hands on their hips the other one had their hands crossed other their chest, then would switch positions.
I didn't hear what they were saying to the jumpers coming out of the fields but there was something about Mcnaasty's body language that told me to turn around and walk in the other direction.
A pick up truck from the DZ picked every one up took us back to the DZ something like a 1/1'2 away Farmer Mcanasty had already called the DZO before we got back.
Turns out that Farmer Mcnasty was the same one that owned the property next to the DZ He was leasing some land in the surrounding area up to 1.5 mi's away from the DZ..
The DZO was at mike who spotted te load. Some of the jumpers for landing on Mcnasty's property or for not helping mike spot the load, in the clear blue sky's.
Pesonally I was with it wasn't me home dz, I didn'y have to walk and because I noticed Farmer Mcnasty's body language from far away I missed out on the drama