THE DAY I FLEW MY DAD’S CAR

It was year of the lord 1979, when I was feeling on top of the world – literally. I had finished phase one of my flying training on the Dalda tin aircraft (HT-2). Having seen mother earth from the air (God’s eye view) it was but natural to feel confident and top of the world.

My dad was a man of passion. His guiding principle could be summed up as – work, work and work. He was passionate about his work and his hobby. I remember he always came late from work (HAL Kanpur division). Being a founder member of the Kanpur division (on deputation from Indian Air Force), I guess he had a feeling of ownership of the factory. He along with the initial team of officers got permanently absorbed in HAL and he retired from HAL Kanpur as GM in year 1988.

His hobby was also a unique one. He used to love doing up cars. He would buy a second hand car and work on it to make it as good as a new. In our house my brother and I have seen the car engine being opened up fully and overhauled, car body being dented and painted and even the interior upholstery of the car being changed. At times I wonder how come we didn’t end up becoming a car mechanic.

I remember him sitting late at night working on the car with a cigarette dangling from his mouth (he was a chain smoker – never needed a light as the new one used to be lit by the previous ones). In my childhood I recollect at least 14 odd attempts by him to quit smoking with varying degree of success (few hours to a few days). Later one fine day he just stopped smoking.

Our (my brother and I) role was as helpers to clean the car parts and hand over tools as and when asked for. We learned to recognise different parts of the car and various sizes of the spanners and screw drivers. As we grew up once in a while we used to steal a ride in the car, of course my brother driving it (I was too young to drive) and of course without our father knowing about it. Once in a while some parts of the car used to be left behind on the road – that story some other time.

Out of numerous cars being restored I recollect the first one a Standard Herald, because its bonnet was hinged in the front and used to open unlike any other car. Then there was Hindustan 14 followed by series of ambassadors and fiats. He would do up the car to a very good standard with new paint on the body, new interiors and overhauled engine purring like a satisfied cat. Our hopes would go up thinking that this is going to be our car for keeps and we would be going for long drive holidays in it. We would find the car missing the next day. He would give it to any of his friend that showed interest in the car. Not for profit but just breaking even or at times at a loss. The cycle would start again with another piece of junk arriving soon.

Coming back to July of 1979. I had come back home on holidays after finishing phase 1 of flying training on piston engine aircraft, waiting to go back to fly faster jet engine aircraft. My elder brother was in the Army after finishing engineering. The car at home was a fiat in extremely good condition. Surprising that the car had been with us for some time and it seemed that dad had finally found his dream car.

I still hadn’t mastered the art of driving a car. Imagine learning to fly an aeroplane before learning how to drive a car. One day we came back after dinner with some family friends and drove into our house in HAL Township. In the pictures below the house on the left was our house. We had stayed in the house on the right earlier i.e. before dad did a short stint at HAL Koraput engine division. On return we got the house on the left.

My mom got out of the car and went into the house. Dad seemed to be in a good mood bolstered by couple of drinks with good friends. I saw an opportunity and decided to go for it, asking him to let me drive and go for a round in the colony as there would be no traffic. Dad suggested that we do it during day. Well I was not going to let go of the opportunity so easily. So the famous dialogue came out spontaneously “IAF trusts me with lakhs worth of aircraft and you can’t trust me with your car worth thousands” (Those days lakhs and thousands was a lot of money – crore was unthinkable). The dialogue had its desired effect and dad agreed to go for a round with him in the left seat. I was thrilled and excitement level was same as that when going for first sortie on HT-2 aircraft.

Dad reversed the car out of the drive way turned the car with its front pointing towards the road. He got out and we switched sides with me getting into the saddle for a ride of my lifetime. Did my pre-flight or pre drive checks, correct seating posture, hands on wheels, rear view mirror set and headlights on low beam. Going over the position and purpose of the three pedals – clutch, accelerator and brakes. Revised the take-off procedure release the clutch slowly and press the accelerator simultaneously for a smooth launch. Dad was watching and seemed quite satisfied and reassured with my meticulous pre-flight checks and procedures.

Moment of truth arrived and I released the clutch slowly pressing on the accelerator, determined and concentrating for a smooth drive off. In the process forgot that one has to steer as well. The wheels of the car were turned towards the left after it was reversed. The car started veering to the left and that’s when friend Murphy decided to place an electric pole on the road side (between the gates of the two houses). Power steering had not been invented by then and the car seemed to have a mind of its own. Soon the realisation came and the situation demanded that the brakes be applied fully and urgently. The brake pedal was pushed with full force to the floor, but alas the pedal turned out to be the accelerator pedal.

The first flight ended with a loud bang, lasting for a few seconds with car moving only a couple of meters and coming to stop with the electric pole embedded firmly in the centre front portion of the car. The bonnet seemed a bit disfigured (actually totally out of shape) and a loud hiss of escaping steam and hot water could be heard emanating from the ruptured radiator. Then my dad’s words boomed in my ears -उल्लु के पट्ठे, जहाज ऐसे उडाते हो? (Son of an owl – you fly the aircraft like this?). While my dad was taking stock of the full damage to his beloved car, I slinked quietly away into the house. Before I could explain and ask my mom to control the situation she remarked बड़ी जल्दी वापिस आ गये? (You have come back so soon?). Those words were like salt on an open wound. Anyway I came to conclusion that flying was easier than driving.

Finally I learnt how to drive a car on the squadron ambassador, courtesy colleagues and of course without CO knowing about it. 

I visited the same house in HAL Township in 2014 after thirty five years. By now I had flown more than 4000 hours on various types of jet fighter and mastered the art of driving as well.

THE POLE WAS MISSING.

 

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