Damn it, Bones! Oops...that sounds a bit like the original Star Trek. From McCoy's point of view it would be more like "Damn it, Jim! I'm a pilot, not an archeologist." For those of you who never watched Star Trek, my apologies.
Lots of old airplane lovers "diss" Mooneys but Al Mooney was among those few rare geniuses of early aviation. Hell, as a high school kid, hanging around the airport, he told Alexander Eaglerock that his Swallow was out of rig. It took careful measurements by Eaglerock's guys back at his shop to prove the kid was right. He hired a then 18 year old Al Mooney. Not to sweep up but to redesign the wing of the signature aircraft we nowadays call simply "an Eaglerock." Yesterday the New York columnist David Brooks wrote a piece dismissing the notion of genius...said the stuff Mozart's wrote as a kid was just recycled bits he'd heard here and there, and similar parcels in a truckload of crap. Sorry Mr. Brooks, but there was nothing for Al to recycle except bad airfoils. Comparing Wolfgang Mozart to Al Mooney would be absurd to most people, but most people are not pilots.
Mooney worked with Bellanca on the Airbus/Aircruiser project: an astonishing achievement in efficiency transcending its era.
In short, a Mooney cannot go where a Cruisair can go, but it can go long before a Cruisair project can.
Shakespeare could have been speaking of the kind of devotion you need to stick with a near endless Cruisair restoration project when he wrote his Sonnet 116:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not true love
Which alters when it alteration finds (check that paperwork, boys)
Or bends with the remover to remove (yep, more is broken than you thought)
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark (ya gotta be really obsessed to stick with it in many cases)
That looks on tempests and is never shaken; (and I really mean obsessed)
It is that star to every wand'ring bark, (I said I want a CRUISAIR damnit)
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. (It’s not worth much, except to you)
Loves's not Time's fool, (but sometimes it takes a fool to spend the time)
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, (try to explain that to your wife)
But bears it out even to the edge of doom. (oops…she’s not buying it)
In short, nobody can blame anybody for saying farewell to a Triple Tail in favor of something less soul inspiring but flies with just normal human effort applied.
Please don’t vanish though, Bones…sh*t, I’m a fine one to talk about that.
Jonathan