Don't Fly With Me

A personal reminiscence today.  I was ecstatic to read last week that the RAF had finally retired the last of its VC10 transport planes.  Whilst in recent times they've been used mainly as tankers, I had the misfortune, back in the 1990s, to travel on them a couple of times when they were still being used as long-range passenger transports.  Back then I was working for the MoD. which was such a cheapskate that when we civilian staff had to attend conferences in Washington, instead of booking us onto commercial flights, forced us to travel from RAF Brize Norton on one of the regular VC10 runs to Washington Dulles.  If you'd ever flown commercially, the VC10s were like stepping back into the 1960s.  Uncomfortable rearward-facing seats, (to be fair, a sensible safety feature), narrow aisle, plastic fittings, noisy cabin and condensation pouring from the ceiling were just some of the memorable features. 

Hydraulic fluid of some kind regularly leaked into the luggage hold and, if there was a strong headwind, the relatively low fuel capacity meant that the VC10s had to make an additional stop at Gander or Bangor, Maine (home of Stephen King) to refuel.  Perhaps worst of all, their instruments and navigational systems were apparently so antiquated that they couldn't land in foggy conditions, (another throwback to the 1960s, when movies regularly featured passengers stranded at fog-bound airports).  The last time I ever flew on one, returning from the States, there was fog at Brize that morning.  So, we diverted to Manchester, where the RAF just dumped us - none of us came from Manchester and all our cars were at Brize.  After a few hours, they finally condescended to hire a coach to get us back there.  Still, at least we were in one piece - during the landing approach there had been some kind of panic amongst the RAF cabin crew and panels in the aisle floor were lifted and it seemed some kind of apparatus was being cranked.  I can only assume that they were manually lowering the landing gear.  Anyway, we were followed across the runway by what seemed to be Manchester Airport's entire allocation of emergency vehicles.  It was a bit like Thunderbirds.

I've heard it said that you should never drive a car older than yourself.  Personally, I think you should never fly in an aircraft older than yourself, but the VC10s came close.  They all carry builder's plates internally, telling you when they were completed.  All of those I flew on were only three years younger than me.  I'm sure that back in the 1960s the VC10s were cutting edge airliners, but thirty plus years on they just weren't cutting it as far as I was concerned.  Thankfully, after that last awful flight, departmental policy changed and we started using commercial carriers for transatlantic flights.  Nevertheless, those VC10 flights took their toll on me: I swear that my anxieties about long-distance flights started in the cabins of those bloody sixties throwbacks.