The trials of a Ramp Monkey
I was remembering back to my high school days this evening. One of the jobs I had back then was probably one of the best I've ever had: Airport Ramp Monkey.
No, that wasn't the real title - I don't even think I had a title. Generally I was to go-to guy for AvGas fill-ups, push backs, pull outs, and airplane parking at a small airport in Rock Hill, S.C (back when its ID was 29J).
I applied for this job for one reason: flight training money. But I ended up enjoying it for much more than just that.
A typical day involved me getting to work right after school, at around 3pm, and letting the previous guy end his shift. He'd tell me if anybody was waiting to have their airplane pulled out or if any big wigs were expected to come in that afternoon.
When someone called ahead to get their airplane pulled out of their hangar I'd drive a rusted, little VW Rabbit to their machine and ease the airplane out with a little hand tug. Most of the hangars were open-air (like a carport) so the operation was a quick one.
For the bigger airplanes I'd get a treat - I left the old Rabbit in its place and went for the Tug instead, which was a smaller version of the tugs you'd see pushing the big commercial airliners around. This thing was a little intimidating for a high school guy. The thought of accidentally causing the Tug to break an airplane worth more money than I could imagine was a scary one. I had to be sure not to over turn the nose wheel; they had limits you didn't want to pass. But I'd take it slow and steady - foot on the brake at all times, eyes scanning the wingtips for clearance like watching a tennis match - and it always turned out OK.
The rest of the day mainly consisted of sitting on my butt.
There was a little metal shack that the linesman (Ramp Monkey) would sit in to get out of the weather or the heat or the cold. I'd go in there and spend hours doing homework or reading or simply staring at the walls.
Sometimes, when it was really hot outside (and I was thoroughly bored from having no customers to help out) I'd walk out on the tarmac and stand in one place for a few seconds. Then I'd step to the side and marvel at the shoe print I had left in the asphalt. It would get hot enough to soften up the tarmac enough to leave an impression. Once you moved away it would "melt" back and the shoe print would disappear.
Sometimes I'd actually get to park an airplane or two. Whenever a transient (an airplane needing temporary parking) would come in I'd spot them through the window of the shack and run out on the tarmac to flag them over. I'd guide them in to park somewhere near the terminal and stick around until they shutdown and got out. If they needed gas I'd drive the truck over and fill them up, otherwise it was back to the shack.
Over the months I worked there I grew a good bit as an aviator. I was exposed to more planes that I have ever been, I got the inside scope with the local instructors and went to their shindigs, and I got to taxi airplanes around (that I was certified for) and give them a good washing.
I learned how to pump AvGas without blowing anything up, how the AvGas tanks at the airport are designed to explode upward - not outward, how to drive a stick, and how to safely put a 2 ton airplane back to bed in its hangar.
That was definitely a time in my life I doubt I will ever forget.
No, that wasn't the real title - I don't even think I had a title. Generally I was to go-to guy for AvGas fill-ups, push backs, pull outs, and airplane parking at a small airport in Rock Hill, S.C (back when its ID was 29J).
I applied for this job for one reason: flight training money. But I ended up enjoying it for much more than just that.
A typical day involved me getting to work right after school, at around 3pm, and letting the previous guy end his shift. He'd tell me if anybody was waiting to have their airplane pulled out or if any big wigs were expected to come in that afternoon.
When someone called ahead to get their airplane pulled out of their hangar I'd drive a rusted, little VW Rabbit to their machine and ease the airplane out with a little hand tug. Most of the hangars were open-air (like a carport) so the operation was a quick one.
For the bigger airplanes I'd get a treat - I left the old Rabbit in its place and went for the Tug instead, which was a smaller version of the tugs you'd see pushing the big commercial airliners around. This thing was a little intimidating for a high school guy. The thought of accidentally causing the Tug to break an airplane worth more money than I could imagine was a scary one. I had to be sure not to over turn the nose wheel; they had limits you didn't want to pass. But I'd take it slow and steady - foot on the brake at all times, eyes scanning the wingtips for clearance like watching a tennis match - and it always turned out OK.
The rest of the day mainly consisted of sitting on my butt.
There was a little metal shack that the linesman (Ramp Monkey) would sit in to get out of the weather or the heat or the cold. I'd go in there and spend hours doing homework or reading or simply staring at the walls.
Sometimes, when it was really hot outside (and I was thoroughly bored from having no customers to help out) I'd walk out on the tarmac and stand in one place for a few seconds. Then I'd step to the side and marvel at the shoe print I had left in the asphalt. It would get hot enough to soften up the tarmac enough to leave an impression. Once you moved away it would "melt" back and the shoe print would disappear.
Sometimes I'd actually get to park an airplane or two. Whenever a transient (an airplane needing temporary parking) would come in I'd spot them through the window of the shack and run out on the tarmac to flag them over. I'd guide them in to park somewhere near the terminal and stick around until they shutdown and got out. If they needed gas I'd drive the truck over and fill them up, otherwise it was back to the shack.
Over the months I worked there I grew a good bit as an aviator. I was exposed to more planes that I have ever been, I got the inside scope with the local instructors and went to their shindigs, and I got to taxi airplanes around (that I was certified for) and give them a good washing.
I learned how to pump AvGas without blowing anything up, how the AvGas tanks at the airport are designed to explode upward - not outward, how to drive a stick, and how to safely put a 2 ton airplane back to bed in its hangar.
That was definitely a time in my life I doubt I will ever forget.
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