SUMMER1986- It was cheking out Tepoztlán's new aerodrome for ultralights, with a possible flight instruction on my mind. There was one dirt landing strip, parallel to high tension wires & towers, one hangar & two Quicksilvers aligned under the baking sun. One female student was being ground instructed by a young man, while a local tepoztecan was fixing the propeller of the other ultralight. I seated under an empty umbrela ziping my Coke for time to go by, while the instruction was over and for me to fly. My sight drifted over those magnificent Sierra del Tepozteco mountains, when I heard a Rotax at full pitch & saw a rogue & red Quicksilver pointing at the other one next to it, while the local tepoztecan (without loosing his campesino hat)
dived away among a spider-web of tail wires. When the rogue aircraft struck the resting one, it just veered & pointed at me FULL BLAST & faster & faster: I only had time to stand up, when the young instructor dived into the (cockpit? WHAT cockpit?)
SEATS & cut-off ignition.
Sierra del Tepozteco
Now, it was my turn since the female student noticed she did not want to ride & fly the rogue contraption anymore
whispering something about the Virgin of Guadalupe & making the sign of the Cross over her head, hart & body
before NEVER beeing sighted again. The young instructor was shaken, but I told him: -"It is like falling from a horse the first time: if you don't go back up on the sadle inmediatly, you will be affraid of horses the rest of your life."
So he charged me for an hour flight, but instructed me flying ALL AFTERNOON and guided me well for a perfect landing under my control (Quicksilvers land very easy, being tricicle gear)