1470, you are my bitch.
Before coming on this trip, I didn't have a lot of experience working on the KC135 R model stratotanker that I've come to know so well and love so much. Out of tech school, I went to the ISO (isochronal inspections) dock, where I spent 8 months doing the same inspection every week. Didn't learn much.
After that I moved to a wheel and tire backshop, where I learned about wheels and tires. For three years. Yes, they are an important part of the plane, but you can learn all there is to learn about a wheel and tire assembly in two days. I got a few cool TDY's out of it, but all in all it didn't do me any good to spend three years away from the meat of my career field, then six months back into it before going on a deployment for four.
But I've been hanging in there, and for the past few days, I've learned something; fixing airplanes, really digging down inside of them to find out what makes them tick and why they're doing what they do, is hellaciously fun.
Take for example 1470, our resident shit heap. Granted, all of the jets are shit heaps to one degree or another; they're all at least 50 years old and they probably have hundreds of thousands of flight hours on them. 1470, however, likes to wiggle her butt in flight. She comes down, and the rudder is kicking off to one side, uncommanded. Over the next three days, Josh and I go through about ten different rigging tasks, hours upon hours of troubleshooting, and just when we've exhausted just about every option we have outside of changing the rudder (something I was not at all looking forward to) we found the problem. I could go into details, but since I'd be speaking Greek to anyone reading this anyway, I'll just say it was one of those forehead-palming moments and leave it at that.
If I could work A/R for the rest of my Air Force career, I probably would. Unfortunately I have no real say in that, so when it's time to either reenlist, crosstrain, or gtfo, the latter two are my first priorities.
So, for the first time this entire trip, I've gotten some real job satisfaction, even if trying to figure out what the hell was going on with this jet was a supreme pain in the ass.
After that I moved to a wheel and tire backshop, where I learned about wheels and tires. For three years. Yes, they are an important part of the plane, but you can learn all there is to learn about a wheel and tire assembly in two days. I got a few cool TDY's out of it, but all in all it didn't do me any good to spend three years away from the meat of my career field, then six months back into it before going on a deployment for four.
But I've been hanging in there, and for the past few days, I've learned something; fixing airplanes, really digging down inside of them to find out what makes them tick and why they're doing what they do, is hellaciously fun.
Take for example 1470, our resident shit heap. Granted, all of the jets are shit heaps to one degree or another; they're all at least 50 years old and they probably have hundreds of thousands of flight hours on them. 1470, however, likes to wiggle her butt in flight. She comes down, and the rudder is kicking off to one side, uncommanded. Over the next three days, Josh and I go through about ten different rigging tasks, hours upon hours of troubleshooting, and just when we've exhausted just about every option we have outside of changing the rudder (something I was not at all looking forward to) we found the problem. I could go into details, but since I'd be speaking Greek to anyone reading this anyway, I'll just say it was one of those forehead-palming moments and leave it at that.
If I could work A/R for the rest of my Air Force career, I probably would. Unfortunately I have no real say in that, so when it's time to either reenlist, crosstrain, or gtfo, the latter two are my first priorities.
So, for the first time this entire trip, I've gotten some real job satisfaction, even if trying to figure out what the hell was going on with this jet was a supreme pain in the ass.