FOR MANY years we have known about this issue and many pilots have tried and failed to find, or develop, a solution. Let's face it, your average pilot has issues with his speedbar. Not the sort of issues that involve a psychiatrists couch or a short-term prison sentence, the sort of issues that involve fumbling about with your left hand while holding both brake handles in your right. That's right, getting your speedbar out. How do we do it? Can it be made easier? And how can you not put yourself in mortal danger by faffing about at what is one of the most critical moments of any flight. Great, we thought, let's get out there and find out what people are doing and see if we can't help find a better solution... a Pie solution.
Our first port of call was Iceland. Yes, Iceland. Pilots flying in high wind use their speedbar more, they'll probably have a good idea what to do we thought. After checking Google maps to find out where it was, we booked our tickets and eventually landed at Kevlaffik International Money Laundering Terminal and headed East looking for some action. After contacting local guru Björn Björkitup we found ourselves on Hafrafell, the only place on the island with two L's. After two days we came down and jetted off to the Alps where, hopefully, we would find some pilots whose idea of using a speedbar actually involved getting it out the rucksack and not simply sitting around huddled together for warmth for a day or two in howling gales and driving rain.
Sitting on Montmin, we found ourselves watching pilots from every corner of the globe simply doing their own version of the same routine. Wriggling around like 14 year old virgins on a first date 12.5 seconds after takeoff, desperately trying to hook the speedbar with a foot, a hand, a bit of string and in one elderly pilots case, his walking stick.
Then we met Jean-Pierre.
"Jean-Pierre, nice of you to spend the time to show us your ideas", said newly recruited Pie reporter Björn Björkitup.
"Allo-allo", he said in slightly accented English, "It's nice to 'ave zomeone to talk zem zrough wizz"
"Indeed. So what's so special about your system?", we enquired.
"Well, it's so simple, you zee. It izzz amazin' zat no-one 'as zought of eet befour. It's zee zimple application of a littel velcro in zee private places and it's always to hand". He continued, "Ze velcro on zee speedbar simply attaches to zee front of your flight suit or your pantz and after clippin' in you just push zee speedbar on to your wazzzer and you are sorted, zo to speak"
He went on, "After takeoff you simply give your weener a thrust forward and zee bar drops gently onto zee shins where it eez always available for zee rest of zee flight, you zee?" Standing up, he demonstrated the detachment technique with a well practiced French thrust of the hips and the bar fell straight off his crotch and into place. Impressive! We could imagine the French and Italian pilots taking to this like ducks to water, although we imagined take-up might be more slow in, say, Germany or Austria.
Keen to give it a try Björn hooked himself in, velcro'd himself up and launched himself into the somewhat thermic air that is Annecy. The Chief Editor and Jean-Pierre naturally choosing to retire to the bar in Forclaz to await the test results over a remarkably unremarkable Chablis. Imagine our surprise, however, when 3 hours later Björn approached us hobbling quite painfully up the road with the assistance of our hired retrieve driver and with what can only be described as a look of "lost faith" on his face.
Declining a seat at the table and preferring to stand for some reason, he regaled us with a short story of pain, lost pubic hair, French-Icelandic translations for the word vertical, ripped flight suits, broken speedbars and dented pride. He even made us a quick sketch to illustrate how he would have been much happier wriggling around like a 14 year-old virgin as opposed to losing his virginity to a SoupAir Slider harness and a Blozone PopUp Speedbar at 1500m in a 7-up.
As you might imagine, after 3 hours of French wine and cheese we were, perhaps, too sympathetic to poor Björn upon which he tendered his resignation in return for the two extra cushions from our seats. A story to make your eyes water, perhaps you'd agree, but nothing gets between Pie and good research. For the cost of an economy ticket from Geneva to Rekjavik and a jar of vaseline, we've certainly got the new season of Pie testing off to a great start.
Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1972 "Robert Livingston Seagull patio door" accident
Funnier than the 1972 "Robert Livingston Seagull patio door" accident