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Get ready to laugh again. Happy Landings presents The Flying Circus, a collection of funny flying stories by aviation humorist Garth Wallace. If you enjoyed "Fly Yellow Side Up", "Pie In The Sky" and "Derry Air", you’ll love reading The Flying Circus. Moby Dave, Chainsaw Charlie and Marathon Melville are some of the crazy characters in this new funny book by Canada’s leading aviation humorist. The Flying Circus is the fictionalized account of madcap happenings that Wallace experienced when he taught flying at the Niagara Falls District Airport. It is the laugh-a-minute tale of two instructors who start a flying school with loads of enthusiasm, little business sense and no money. The Flying Circus Soft cover - 248 pages of fun $18.95 CDN / $16.95 U.S. Sample chapter - The Flying Circus Chapter one / The Flying Circus Barney Swallow sat hunched over an old government-issue oak desk. He was dressed in a brown tweed jacket and regiment tie that had seen too many drinks and not enough laundry. He looked like a crusty old veteran. Wild grey hair grew out of his eyebrows, ears and nose. His wrinkled, pocked face was a visual history of hard use and poor maintenance. "So you want to lease some land." Barney's dentures whistled and clicked when he spoke. "Yes sir, we do," I replied. "How many people will you be employing?" The voice was low and gravelly. Henry Rains and I were trying to start our own flying school in the City of Circus. Barney was the Circus Airport manager. My partner and I looked at each other. The two of us were going to do all the work ourselves at first. "None," I replied. "Wrong answer," he said staring at me through a pair of red-rimmed, runny eyes. He drew a raspy, deep breath. "You want me to go to council and secure you a favorable lease on airport property." It was a statement, not a question. "We have to do better than that. You're employing yourselves; that's two. You're helping to maintain my job; that's three. You'll be buying gas, meals, cleaning supplies and who knows what else from local merchants; that's ten. And you'll hire a couple of students to work the ramp; that's twelve. "How much money will you be investing?" I did some mental calculations. Henry and I were planning to put together $25,000 each, his from an inheritance, mine from a second mortgage. It represented half of what we needed. We were planning to borrow the rest of the money as a business loan from the bank. Before I could answer, Barney spoke for me. "You said you're going to build a hangar, that's $100,000; buy two airplanes, they're worth $50,000; you'll need cars to get to work, clothes, pencils, and toilet paper, that's another $50,000; and then there will be your own sweat equity during the first few years, that comes to $250,000. We'll make it $260,000 and that doesn't include your expansion during the second five-year plan." He was way ahead of us but the tone of his voice indicated that interruptions, comments or objections were not being entertained. Barney rose from his chair without straightening up. The meeting was over. Barney opened his desk drawer, pulled out a dog-eared business card and pushed it in my direction. "That's Myrtle, my sister-in-law's answering service. That makes thirteen staff." The card said, "EAVESDROPPERS, We listen while you work, Myrtle Knickenbacher". "When you're ready to hire students," Barney continued, "I've got nephews." He rose from his chair without straightening up and offered a handshake. The meeting was obviously over. "Council meets next Tuesday," he said. "Another week and you'll have your lease." Henry and I were afraid of losing our instructing jobs before we could open the doors of our own flying school. There were a million things to do. We had to obtain government operating certificates, borrow money, build a hangar and office, buy airplanes, hire a mechanic and promote the business. A premature loss of income would have been a tough setback. Our wives had been the only ones who knew of our plans until we had visited the manager at the Circus Airport. The day after, our boss where we worked in nearby Derry, Irving Mingy, summoned the two of us to his office. He closed the door. "What are you calling your new flying school?" he asked straight out...
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