Monthly Horse Stall Rental Agreement: Fill & Download for Free

The summer I turned sixteen, I had a job working on a horse farm that allowed for a three hour break in the middle of the day. I used to drive into town, grab a burger and go hang out at the New Smyrna airport to watch little airplanes come and go before heading back in for the afternoon work.Now this was in the days before fences and security at airports so I usually would walk out and look at the planes that were for sale and dream of a future as a pilot, however unlikely that dream seemed at the time.One day I was in the lobby of the the only FBO on the field when a little, yellow Piper Cub taxied up and a lady climbed out; short hair cut in a bob, a beat-up canvas jumpsuit and a kind, if well-weathered face. She came in and inquired about renting a hanger for a month. As the guys were getting her paperwork ready I spoke to her.(Grace in 1973 about a year after I met her.)“Excuse me, Ma’am,” I said, “do you mind if I go out and look at your airplane?”She smiled and said I could look but not to touch. I assured her I would never touch a plane without permission and went out to drool. I noticed on the side of the plane just behind the engine she had duct-taped a sheet of clear plastic under which was printed a write-up about the owner. It proclaimed her as airshow pilot, Grace “the Ace” Page and talked about all the wonderful things she could do in her J-2 Cub. (For you airplane guys, I didn’t mistype that. It was a J-2, not the more common J-3.)(J-2 Piper Cub on static display.)When the woman came out of the office with her rental agreement, she saw me standing there with my hands behind my back and peering in through the open door of the tiny plane.“Would you like to go up?” she asked as she tucked the papers into a map pocket. “I have to start it up anyway to taxi over to the hanger. Might as well see the sights first.”She didn’t have to ask this teenager twice! She showed me how to hoist myself into the front seat and buckled me in. After reaching out and pulling the prop to start the little engine, she clambered into the seat behind me. The two-piece door was left open just as in the picture above.We taxied out to the end of the runway where she wiggled the stick and rudder, although I had no idea why at the time. She ran the engine up loud for a minute and then throttled back to idle.“Are you ready?” she shouted at me from the back seat. I nodded. After a very short run the tail came up making it possible for me to see over the nose and then we were off. She turned east and we flew up and down New Smyrna Beach.We waved through the open door at the surfers and the pretty girls on the beach for about ten minutes and then she yelled, “Take the stick and fly it for a minute. With her instruction, I turned left and right and made the plane go up and down. I know now that she was working the rudder and throttle but I was enthralled. I was ‘flying’ an airplane!We came back to the airport and she did what I learned decades later was one of her signature airshow moves, landing on one wheel and ‘unicycling’ on it for a bit and then switching to the other wheel, back and forth.(Grace doing her airshow stunt. The ‘smoke’ is from a small bag of flour secured to the wingtip that she would artfully drag on the runway to split it open as a part of a comedy act.)She did this a few times and then closed the throttle to idle and let the little yellow plane fully land and slow to walking speed. We taxied to her hanger where I helped her push it into its new home. I thanked her profusely and walked back to my car. It was time to go muck out the stalls and bring in the horses.THE REST OF THE STORY: More than forty years later I was now a seasoned flight instructor with my own small flight school at an airport in Southern California. A fellow instructor and I went to the cafe at the airport for breakfast and he waved to a tiny, elderly woman sitting with a couple of guys at a table in the back. We walked over and my friend introduced me to the woman. She was Fran Bera, a rather famous (in aviation circles anyway) aviatrix. I had heard of her but had never had the pleasure.Fran Bera in 2013As we talked over breakfast, she asked me how I got into aviation and I started telling her the story of the woman that had given me my first ride in her yellow J-2 Cub. As soon as I said the type of plane, Ms. Bera’s eyes lit up and she become very animated.“Oh dear,” she said, “That was Grace…”“ ‘The Ace’ Page,” I completed for her.Fran Bera and Grace Page had been contemporaries and more than once had been roommates. Small world. She told me that Grace had done that same thing more than once, as she had a kind and giving heart. She shared some wild stories about their times together, Grace doing airshows and Fran racing at Reno. She also said that Grace had passed away a few years before and how she missed her.Although Fran was based and lived at my airport near San Diego, I never again had the chance to talk with her. And, she herself passed away only a few years after that. I hope they both like their new wings in heaven. They’re probably putting on a spectacular show with Grace doing tricks and Fran zooming the tower!To read about Grace: The Sky’s the Limit: Remembering Grace the AceTo read about Fran: Award-setter aviator Fran Bera remembered