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Posted By:
Hal Brown
Date Posted:
Oct 12, 2004
Description:
Another photo taken from FLIGHT magazine.
Sure would like to know the story behind the picture.
Date Taken:
Oct 12, 2004
Place Taken:
??
Owner:
FLIGHT Magazine
File Name:
Beaver_delay.jpg - Photo HTML
Full size - <img src="/show.php?splash=SZYOJ0000h">
Medium - <img src="/show.php?splash=SZYOJ0000m">
Thumbnail - <img src="/show.php?splash=SZYOJ0000s">
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Click on photo to view the original size. |
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Read what others had to say:
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Dan Nickens - Oct 12,2004
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Sure, Dave, this is another instance where Frank is correct. This airplane was flown by the infamous bush pilot, Pierre Brussard. The story behind how it ended up in this tree is still told by Ohmygosh Indians of Northern Ontopome.<br /><br />Pierre was a notorious flyboy cavorting about Ontopome just after WWII. He claimed to have been a French ace before being captured by the Polish Nazis. His hands flew furious combat missions as he told his tales of war. At the end of each story he would shake his head and say, “Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br />Pierre’s notoriety as a flyboy was only overshadowed by his reputation as a playboy. He chased many an Ohmygosh squaw around the bars while twirling his pencil thin mustache and yelling, “Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br />For some reason many of the locals were skeptical of his self-pronounced heroic air and bedroom escapades. They were to be proven wrong on one fateful day. On that beautiful early fall afternoon the lovely Hottifox found herself cornered by Pierre at Frenchie’s Kiss Bar and Grill.<br /><br />“You says de same ting to all de gurls, Monsieur Pierre, but I tings you tell de beeg lies, eh?”<br /><br />“Oh me beeeutiful Hottifox you stabba my heart wit ur tongue sharpe as my very, very big sabre! It is mee, ur only lovers man, and I vill prove my skills or I vill die in the soft embrace of your arms!”<br /><br />Now Hottifox must have been drinking a bit, otherwise she would never have agreed to go with Pierre. He led her outside to his waiting beaver filled Broussard. To make room for Hottifox he frantically tossed a gross of soft pelts to the ground. “Ur magic carpets awaits you, mon ami!” he said as he pushed her through the door.<br /><br />Hottifox crawled in on top of the pelts as Pierre jumped into the cockpit. Without so much as a single check, he plunged the throttle fully in and they took to the air.<br /><br />Pierre quickly trimmed the throbbing engine for slow cruise and tied the controls in place. He turned then to the now nervous vixen on pelts and said, “I am Pierre the fighter pilot. Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br />With a quick shove he pushed Hottifox back onto the furry pelts. Pierre then deftly reached under her hiked up skirt and tore off her lacy panties. Hottifox was stunned into submission.<br /><br />Instead of pressing home his attack, Pierre reached behind the pilot’s seat. He pulled out a bottle of French cognac and waved it wildly about the cockpit. “Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br />Hottifox watched in horror as Pierre drenched his mustache in the syrupy cognac before similarly soaking the panties. Now red faced and wild, Pierre again proclaimed, “Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br /> The sudden flare of a struck match flashed white-hot across the narrow space between them. With a fanatical grin Pierre touched the match to the panties and together they burst into flame.<br /><br />By now Hottifox had steeled herself for his crazed onslaught. As Pierre surged towards her, flaming panties pulled over his head, she cold cocked him. They both fell limply into the back of the plane.<br /><br />Meanwhile the plane had developed a serious cough. It seems that Pierre had stopped for fuel but in his haste had taken off with empty tanks. The engine quit and its nose thrust skyward. The stall that followed turned quickly to a flat spin, pinning Hottifox, Pierre, and the burning panties against the back wall.<br /><br />Down they twirled, inexorably towards the ground with Hottifox’s screams of terror barely drowning out Pierre’s screams of passion and pain at the fire spread to his mustache. The patrons of Frenchies scrambled away as the stricken craft plummeted towards the bar. Some swore they could hear Pierre yelling, “Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br />The spinning plane miraculously impaled itself on the tallest tree in Ontopome. It twirled down the tree like a stripper on a barber pole, breaking branches as it went.<br /><br />The broken branches ultimately slowed their crash to a gentle thump. After the leaves had fallen away Frenchies patrons were shocked to see Pierre emerge from the cabin. He was black and blue from the pummeling Hottifox had rendered. His mustache still smoked as he brushed away the beaver pelts. He stood triumphantly in wreckage loudly proclaiming, “I am Pierre the fighter pilot. Ven I go down, I go down in flames!”<br /><br />What Pierre didn’t see was Hottifox crawling out behind him. She grabbed a broken limb and clobbered him over the head. “Vin I go down,” she gasped, “I go down alone. Des time you go down cold and alone,” she exclaimed as she marched away.<br /><br />The airplane remains to this day wrapped around the tree. Pierre lost his job and now lives in the derelict fuselage sleeping on beaver pelts. You can still find him in the bar drinking cognac and loudly proclaiming how he likes it cold.<br />
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