CReW

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Posts posted by CReW

  6. I sent my RW Triathlon 160 to Aerodyne for a reline. They replaced Spectra 500 lines with Spectra 725 and put the brake line mod on it. When I got it back openings were so hard I put 4 or 5 jumps on it and never jumped it again. My Lightning opened softer than that thing. It's still in a box back there. Never found out what the deal was but I never heard of anybody else having the same issue. If I had to do it again I'd go with the Spectra 725 and keep the original brake line configuration. That Triathlon didn't have that many jumps on it but my solution worked out to be, replace it with a 9 cell.

  7. Dar Robinson was the greatest. What I remember the most was his 311 foot world record high fall into an airbag in 1979. As someone who made a couple 101 foot high falls I found 311 feet to be almost impossible to believe but, I have it on video!

    Dar also broke through a candy glass window backward from Atlanta's Westin Peachtree Plaza hotel for a 220 foot airbag fall.
    He was so funny in Lethal Weapon I laugh every time I see it.

    That and the first to do the plane to plane stunt makes Dar the greatest stunt man of all time in my eyes.

  8. I'm a diver and the motion of raising your arms and locking your hands together over your head in preparation to enter the water is easy when standing on the ground. Take the ground out of the equation by putting your body in freefall and you've got something entirely different. By removing your body from the earth you've lost mechanical advantage and the muscles that helped you when you were connected to the ground are now working against you or at least in your way. That's why divers work on shoulder flexibility.

    Whenever you remove your body from the ground you've lost mechanical advantage. You won't be able to reach as far as easy, you won't have as much strength at your disposal and you will not be able to push or pull as hard. As a diver I realized this early on. Why is it so much harder to get my hands over my head in the air than it is standing on the ground? As a jumper the older I get the more painfully obvious it becomes. What I'm going to do about it is keep working on my flexibility by stretching slowly and patiently every day. Every other day won't get it. If my main handle becomes too hard to reach I'll have to change it or move it to a more convenient location.

  12. The takeaway here is, if you never want to worry again about you're brakes firing when you don't want them to, get yourself some Racer Risers with Snap Toggles. Whenever I get a new rig the first thing I do is order a set. If you've never used them you don't know what you're missing.
    See Ya Soon Win.

  13. I never understood why everybody doesn't jump Racer Risers with Snap toggles. Totally eliminate the worry of premature break release. I jump them on all my rigs, Javelin, Wings, Racers. I made 60 jumps in a row without setting my brakes, no problem. A little slower than normal but very orderly. I don't recommend that but have considered it with my Firebolt.

  16. I use rear riser loops on my CRW Rigs and really like them. I don't use any riser blocks, over size handles, vet wrap or Velcro. Those things I don't like. But, CRW controls are as unique as their pilots.

  21. I've never been in a parachute factory; I'd like to go some time.
    Did you know that a 28-foot canopy has 800 square feet of nylon,
    2400 yards of nylon thread, and half a million stitches? (I didn't
    either until I cribbed it from Russ Gunby.) And did you know that
    these canopies get the same rigorous shakedown inspection as NASA
    Moon gear? If yes, then you know, or should know, that in spite of
    hell and high water, a maverick parachute gets loose, once in a
    coon's age, from inspectors. It breaks some ankles, legs, and necks
    and gives sport parachuting a black eye until it's straightened out.
    They generally attribute these accidents to pilot error.

    We had one such maverick here at Kelly Field. But we also had a
    D-card Dapper Dan who knew what to do about it.
    It was Saturday morning, an hour or two before static
    line classes. I was out on the parking lot picking up the stuff
    whuffos throw around when this young jasper in a new pink Caddy comes forty miles an hour too fast and skids to where I'm bending. He touched a button; his window came down as I stood up.

    "Excuse me, Can you tell me who to see about a quick trip
    upstairs? I'm in a hurry." It figured; he had California plates.
    "I've got a ram-air jobbie in the trunk, She almost scragged a buddy
    of mine, and she put three or four more guys I know in traction in
    Florida and Maryland. She showed her butt real good at other jump
    meets across the country. I'm going to give her one more chance to
    redeem herself. That's more than she ever gave anybody else. If she
    buckos this time, I'm going to burn, bury, or give her away."

    A good name for that flying mattress I thought, would be Scarlett
    O'Hara. I said so. Funny thing, but that name stuck like glue.

    This guy showed me his credentials: log books, D card with
    photograph (yes, the licenses used to have photos on them) everything
    I needed to know. "I'm part-time pilot here. Get your rig on, sign
    in, and we'll go." Meantime I walked away, explaining the situation to
    jumpmasters Bill Dazey and Mike Donahoe, asking them to come along too. I wasn't about to stick my neck out. You can't tell about California
    people nowadays.

    I took this jasper to 8,000 feet. He inched to the door, glanced down
    once or twice, and nodded to Dazey.
    Dazey slapped me on the shoulder, I cut the engine, and he was gone.

    We saw his canopy malfunction like he thought it would. We saw
    him go down on his reserve with garbage between his legs. He left
    that blob of red nylon right where she had spilled. We never did see him
    again. We did hear his tires squeal form a block away down the highway.

    We stowed Scarlett and took her back to the manifest shed. There
    was a red ghost in that damn pack. Something about her bugged us;
    something about him bugged us, too. Nobody on this airport would touch
    Scarlett with a ten-foot pole.

    Nobody, that is, except Bill Crago. A self-confident,
    swashbuckling little guy with handlebar mustache and outrageous
    muttonchop whiskers, Bill drops by now and then between jump meets to
    entertain us with stories and new jump techniques. (Most of them, you
    can be sure, were Bill's own innovations.) Utterly devoid of nerves,
    brash and bold when the occasion demanded. I've seen him spank the
    sass, out of streamers, partial inversions and Mae West a dozen times.
    I've seen him come down in a jungle of steel packing spikes just to
    sit by some girl who'd caught his fancy.

    I've also heard him catch hell from boss man Bob Branch.
    Sometimes I don't think that Bill gives a damn or could care less.
    Bill excels in style, accuracy and relative work too. He doesn't mess
    with log books anymore. He does it or did it and everybody knows it.

    More to the point, though, Bill has more big stuff going for him:
    He understands the female psyche; he likes the ladies, and all of the
    ladies (no exceptions) like Bill. When we told him about Scarlett
    O'Hara he stood still for the first time in his parachuting career and
    listened. This Scarlett business went straight to his guts.

    You guessed it. Next morning, Sunday, there was Bill with
    Scarlett strapped to his back. She looked good in red snuggled against
    his white jumpsuit. They both looked good against the backdrop of
    Indiana green hills and blue sky. The Cessna circled. We heard the cut.
    Bill was gone like a flyspeck. They came down, he and Scarlett,
    straight and fast for 30 seconds. Bill pulled but Scarlett had other plans.
    She floated away into the woods; Bill had cut her away.

    Some of the boys brought Scarlett back and Bill started all over
    again. This time he went to his car, brought back scissors, needle
    and thread, and a satchel of other stuff, he spent two hours doing
    things to primary and secondary rings. From risers to topskin,
    he combed every inch of that malice airfoil. He made some changes
    in line stows, lower control lines, and toggle keepers.
    The stop ring on the deployment bag didn't suit him; he changed that too.

    Bill and Scarlett went upstairs again. This time she scratched,
    balked, and showed her teeth; but to no avail. Bill and Scarlett flew
    together all summer long without a bit of trouble. "You gotta know
    women," Bill said, "if you wanta get anywhere."

    One of my favorite jump stories written by the father of one of our jumpers.
    Jinx-Pak by Joe Winnefeld Parachutist November 1974

  23. It doesn't make sense that someone would sell a hot AAD knowing it would not function like an AAD is supposed to. The first time the unit doesn't function like it's supposed to it gets sent in and you're busted. On the other hand it doesn't make sense that someone would sell a hot AAD believing it would function properly. The first time it gets sent in for service you're busted. We must be missing some pieces of this story.