It was dreamlike, a vibration in the cool clear morning. Softly droning, a fixed pitch propeller beat the air into submission. The sound was growing, I could hear him coming. He was coming, and I didn’t even know his name. But I knew what he did. He was a crop duster. Over the hill at the Southeast corner of our farm he appeared, in a pale yellow CUB with dark green windows. Waving my arms wildly, as if trying to fly myself, I would try desperately to get his attention. Sometimes he would pass far off, not seeing me or possibly ignoring me, leaving me disappointed and sad. Other times he came close enough for me to see him clearly at the controls. He was relaxed at his trade, waiving to me with a smile or simply dip his wings in acknowledgement.
I, a farm boy at the early age of 4 or 5 years old in bib overalls was impressed with the thought of flying. CUBS, Steermans and the occasional private plane would fly out of our small town airport. Far overhead, the low rumble of a Beech 18 or DC3 and the higher flying Super Connies would pass our little town by. The rumble would later be replaced with the soft whisper of a jet, miles high leaving it’s tell tale streaks in the sky. Sonic booms would take us by surprise and rarely did any of us see the plane that sound came from. Wow! Traveling faster than the speed of sound.
In later years, I remember lying on the grass in the backyard, watching the night sky trying to see “SPUTNIK”. The first … man made anything to go into a space orbit. I’d get up early really early, in the morning to watch the launch of a United States built rocket and satellite hurled into space at the end of a huge ball of fire. Everything about it seemed to drip adventure and romance. Alan Shepard, John Glenn, Gus Grissom became household names. I was a junior in high school as we were all glued to our TV sets as an American put the first footprint on the moon.
While in high school I took a ground school class at night. Four farmers and this farm boy pooled our resources and bought a 1946 Luscombe 8A for $1650.00 split 5 ways. Avgas was $.50 a gallon. Quite an investment when you consider I was only 17, earned a buck an hour and still in high school! I was a pilot, and a proud plane owner by graduation. I was pleased with my progress.
In 1975 I left the farm life to attend Clover Park Vo-Tech in Tacoma WA., to become an aircraft mechanic. I worked for several companies during the next years honing my skills.
Two lifelong dreams were accomplished in 1983. I became the father of a healthy baby girl, and opened Bogert Aviation. I’ve been in business for 28 years now, and I can tell you the old aviation joke is true. “This business has its ups and downs”. Out of desperation, during one of the down cycles I started building aircraft parts and tools back in 1986. Today, the company is climbing on course introducing a few new products every year. We are rewarded with steady realistic growth. I plan to be here, serving the aviation community for years to come. Please browse our catalog and by all means contact us if you have any questions.
Now into my 50’s, I still look up whenever I feel the vibrations in the air.- Richard