It’s hard to imagine an American alive today that doesn’t have some knowledge of the Goodyear blimp. It’s been an icon at sporting and motorsport events for decades, with a history spanning more than 80 years.
At the risk of this sounding like an awards show speech, I must extend a sincere thanks to Dean Case, Communications Manager of Mazdaspeed Motorsports. Dean and I are long-time industry friends, and I have some amusing stories to tell of some of Dean’s practical jokes played at my expense…but I’ll save those for another time.
Dean really rolled out the red carpet for me, setting up a lunch and meeting at Goodyear’s Carson, California facility, and arranging a meeting with Star Mazda Championship Series driver Connor De Phillippi, as well as outlining Mazda’s commitment to grass-roots motorsports. Goodyear is a proud sponsor of grassroots racing, and Dean wanted to make a point of highlighting the tire company’s commitment to the series. Anyone that’s been to an SCCA event can immediately see Mazda’s commitment to the grass-roots racing is more than mere lip-service, as the prevalence of the MX-5 Miata at this level of the sport is unmistakable.
Having lived in Southern California now for more than 10 years, I’d passed the iconic airship numerous times on the 405 freeway, never thinking that I’d someday ride in it. Although I’ve heretofore referred to the blimp in the singular, there are in fact three in the U.S. The one based in the Los Angeles suburb of Carson (the one I rode on), one stationed at Goodyear’s corporate headquarters in Akron, Ohio, and a third stationed in Pompano Beach, Florida. There are also a couple of contracted blimps in Europe and Asia.
Although the term “blimp” may have pop-culture undertones of obesity and lack of agility and grace, the blimp is surprisingly responsive to control inputs, more so than you’d think. In our pre-flight orientation, Goodyear Airship Public Relations Manager Elizabeth Flynn explained how much training and experience is required to pilot these craft. I thought to myself, “How hard could it be? They just kind of hang around up there.”
Well, after boarding it, I could see how putting a rookie in charge of one of these gentle giants could mean potential disaster. Not so much because they’re inherently dangerous, but because there are virtually zero electronic or automated components involved in flying one. Aside from an add-on Garmin navigation unit, and one other digital gauge, nearly all of the gauges and controls are strictly old-school analog. Most of the directional controls are actuated by cables, most of which you can actually see…both the cables, and what they ultimately control.
If you’ve ever seen the Wizard of Oz, and the scene in which the wizard is furiously cranking wheels and pulling levers behind the curtain, the activity in the pilot’s seat is not far removed from that example. The most activity, as in most aircraft, is involved in takeoff and landing. Once at cruising altitude, the pilot turned around and casually talked to passengers.
As you can see from the video below, the predominant sound is that of the two-cycle aircraft engines. Passengers are given a headset with a mic that has to be literally millimeters away from your mouth for other passengers to hear you. Although there was conversation going on among the passengers, the only sound the iPhone video camera picked up was the ”B-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R” of the engines.
Back to why this ended up being a somewhat serendipitous experience for me…Approximately a week after my blimp ride, I got a matter-of-fact, somber voice message from my father on my home answering machine. He simply said, “Please call back, it’s kind of important.” Usually, my dad ends his messages with “Call back whenever, we’ll be here all night.” I knew something significant had just happened in the family. Unfortunately, my worst fears proved true. My 92 year-old grandmother had just passed away.
Now, 92 years old is a ripe old age in anyone’s book, and I’m certainly not trying to belittle anyone else’s experience of losing a loved one at a far younger age. But the long, slow decline in her physical and mental condition after the passing of my grandfather 22 years earlier was what made it so tragic. She still enjoyed family and company over after being widowed, but her old vibrancy and will to live life to its fullest gradually faded as the years went by.
At any rate, this occurrence was a major pause moment in my life. I quickly made arrangements to fly back to Tennessee for her memorial and burial. For a four-day weekend, life was on hold. The week following had a surreal quality to it. If for no other reason, I still hadn’t acclimated to the time change going from Pacific to Eastern back to Pacific time again.
But I can’t help but think that having had the experience of a more than quarter-mile high vantage point over the Pacific coast is just a tiny foretaste of what the hereafter might be like. Some have claimed to have been to the brink, and come back to describe almost indescribable experiences and sensations. But none of us really have a full idea of what ”the other side” is like, if anything. And seeing my workplace from that vantage point is a humbling reminder how inconsequential my existence is in the greater scheme of things (see red circle).
The day I’m writing this is in fact two days after the passing of a well-known icon of the tech world, Steve Jobs. It’s also not without irony that I edited the video below on a Mac, and I recorded it with, as noted, an iPhone.
Grandma, and Steve…wherever you are…I hope the view is as great as I think it is…
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