My pilot has been less than his usual jovial self this past winter. Found out why as we were taxiing out to the runway.

His new mechanic is not working out as well as he could.

Not that he isn't doing safe work. Just that he isn't doing it quickly, or on any planned schedule that would keep the business running. The two work horses of the fleet are the 206 and 210. Fairly compatible, single-engine planes good for fast survey work, lots of engine power for windy days and mountainous terrain. Pilot has a big contract job starting next week for which he needs at least one of those planes.

So, the 206 is torn apart in the hangar for regularly scheduled servicing, but needs parts that have yet to arrive. And won't arrive until mid-week, because the mechanic did not order them until it was torn apart. Even though you know fully in advance that you will need these gaskets, etc.

And the pilot just had to ferry the 210 to Central City for a scheduled rebuild on the engine. (Airplanes and helicopters are not like pickup trucks. No stretching out maintenance for an extra 1,000 miles or so. When the time comes for a scheduled maintenance job, you get it done. Now.)

So, neither plane will be available for the contract. I think he's hoping for bad weather, so they can't fly anyway.

But in either case, he was not in the best of moods as we taxied out in the 180, and he explained his problems to me.

As he made the sharp turn towards the runway, the pilot made a loud curse.

"I think our tail wheel's flat."

A quick peek out the door confirmed that, yes, the little wheel at the back end of the plane was flat as could be. Explains the wobbling on the turn.

Pilot calls his mechanic on the cell phone. Mechanic's hangar assistant answers.

Now, they have an efficient phone system for this business. A call to their number goes simultaneously to the office and the pilot's home. So they never miss a business call.

The hangar assistant hears the boss's voice on the line, and assumes that, rather than the boss calling himself, that he, the assistant, has picked up on a call that the boss has just answered.

So he apologizes and hangs up.

More curse words.

The pilot tries again.

No answer. Presumably the hangar assistant is sitting there, wondering why the boss, who was just on the phone, doesn't answer this second call.

Leaving us stranded almost a mile from the office, with a flat tire.

More curse words. Pilot apologizes, noting that he hardly ever cursed before (which is true), but his wife has heard a lot lately.

He points out that if he can get us up to 20 knots, the tail will lift and the flat tire won't be a problem.

"And we won't need it again until we land."

That's an exact quote.

The other option was to walk back and get in the Super Cub. Powerful little two-seater, with plexiglass windows (less desirable for taking pictures of elk herds), tons of unmuffled engine noise, cold as a bobsled, and full of the fumes of aircraft fuel, which will nauseate me in two seconds flat.

Tail wheel? We don't need no stinkin' tail wheel.

I advise my friend that if he's okay with taking off and landing with a flat tail wheel, it was okay by me.

And so we did.