Riga Parts Collected

 

Riga Parts Collected

Riga liked to get her hands dirty. Like she was now. Inside the medium sized aircraft hangar work was being done. Her shark like green and brown Messerschmitt 309 was raised up on supports. It was being taken to pieces for servicing. Outer panels had been removed. Others were open. They gave access to the engine, radio, guns, ammunition, to the aircraft's systems. Part of the wing covering was being removed. Rivets needed to be carefully drilled out to do this. This was to get to the main wing spar. Bolts would be removed and the wings taken off. All parts would be inspected, serviced or replaced. The tail unit and landing gear would be dismantled. All of it.

 

Riga worked with two younger mechanics. They knew what they were doing. Their names were Mayor and Vigel. Riga pointed. "I have a section of wing skin almost removed. A flush rivet is bent. My drill will not reach it."

 

Vigel nodded and replied. "I need to finish this tricky bit. I have to disconnect these electric lines. Mayor please help Riga with the rivet."

 

Mayor smiled and went around the port wing to Riga. He looked at alloy skin and problem rivet. The metal was carefully streamlined. Any pulling it would bend it ruining the aero foil shape and also the rivet hole. Flush rivets were difficult to remove. They were smooth with the skin. If you drilled it wrong the drill could slip and damage the wing skin. "I see what your problem is. Let me take a look. I had one like this before. There's a way to remove this. I will show you..."

 

"I will watch with interest. Then I will know how to do this," Riga commented as Mayor got his pocket knife. He opened a long narrow blade, sized up the problem rivet and thought. He nodded and murmured.

 

'There is always a solution to engineering issues. This isn't in the book. Watch closely Riga." The mechanic placed the blade by the rivet. "Support the wing skin. There, yes. Take the weight. Here we go..."

 

​Riga was silent and watched. Mayor did something very quickly with the blade. Her eyes were fast but she missed it. She held the metal and it suddenly came free. She carefully carried the metre-wide panel over to the work bench and placed it down on an oily sheet. Upon returning to Mayor she said, "Well done Mayor. Just what exactly did you do with the knife? You were fast."

 

"Well Riga, Vigel taught me this. It's all about control and force. Using just enough controlled force in the right place. I used the knife and popped the rivet out of the hole without damage. It's all physics. But very delicate physics. Now we can remove the wing after getting the bolts out..."

 

"You know your stuff. Show me how to loosen the bolts and steps for taking off the wings please." The gal pilot was fascinated. She had never seen a full plane being disassembled before. Especially her own.

 

"Of course. I will show you what needs to be done. Hey Vigel, you nearly done with those wires?" Mayor was ready.

 

"Just finished it buddy. I will help you both. Here's the spanners and correct socket sizes..." Vigel replied. He removed his head and shoulders from a fuselage access panel and got the tools from his box.

 

​"How hard or easy is this procedure?" Riga asked. She looked at the exposed wing spars and bolts. Three big steel bolts held each wing on.

 

"Easy enough. It has to be done right though. First, we remove the forward bolts then the rear bolts and finally the middle bolts. Then we slowly slide the complete wing off. The three of us will be able to support it but it's heavy. Ok Riga and Vigel?" Mayor smiled at his small female boss. Vigel gave a thumbs up.

 

Vigel and Mayor got their tools ready. It was time.

 

"First the forward bolt. The under wing supports will take the weight..."  Vigel put his 25-millimetre spanner on the bolt and tested the torsion. His spanner had a gauge on it and registered the number. He nodded then slowly moved the spanner to the left. The bolt came loose.

 

"That's right..." Mayor commented. He was ready for any issues if Vigel got into trouble. It was fine. Vigel continued and lifted a large wide long bolt out then held it up. He handed it to Riga. She took it in both hands.

 

"It's very heavy. Look at that..." She turned it over and inspected it.

 

"That holds your wing on to the spar and the fuselage. It saves your life every time you fly. It's made from high grade stainless steel." Vigel added.

 

"Fine German engineering," Mayor said. "I will remove the rear bolt. Riga, you will remove the middle bolt. Then we will slide the wing free. And after that, we do the same for the other wing. Please put the bolt in the tub on the desk there..."

 

"I promise to be careful. This is my plane and it carries my life as you say..." Riga put the bolt safely down and grinned. "This is serious work but fun!"

 

"We knew you would like to take part. Now you see how complicated a machine your plane it. Precision engineering for high performance. Just wait till you see a turboprop or a jet. Now they're something else..."

 

They continued their work servicing and dismantling Riga's 309 piston engine warplane. It was a small plane but huge job. She had new views and more respect for her mechanics now. She would buy them both a beer when they were off duty...

***

 

 

Riga Looks

Edit

Riga Looks

Riga looked great in her tight shorts. She was going circuit training. Her black shorts with white trim hugged her. Her butt was curvy as were her firm thighs. Her skin was smooth. Six mosquito bite marks blemished it. She wore white Adidas trainers. A sky blue baggy t shirt that said Bad Shot in white writing and yellow cap finished her look. Business like. Riga got off the bus. She went to the track. It was at the sports stadium. She greeted a couple of younger tennis player. It was free to use. As we're they! Riga went to the warm up area. She did her stretches. There was nothing worse than a strain. Her legs first. To the left then right. Those little shapely legs that had carried over half a world. Ten left stretches ten right. Different ways and techniques. Then her hips and slowly twisting. Finally arms and shoulders. This took ten minutes. Track time. Riga started a slow run. It was three hundred metres around. She would do ten laps. The sky was gray. I don't think it will rain. At least the clouds keep the sun off me. I'd need sun block other wise. She kept her speed steady. Her small legs moved like pistons. She watched her breathing. Don't trigger any health conditions. I know what they means. Riga wasn't getting any younger. Health was wealth. She observed others. Some went twice her speed almost springing round. Others lazily walked. All were enjoying their Sunday morning. She soon was several ways into it. She felt good. Nothing worse and bad for you than inactivity. A guy in bright green shorts and top greeted her. His smile said he fancied Riga. Riga waved and kept going. Three more laps and she drank water from her old army canteen. Briefly she remembered South American jungles humidity and fire fights. And several lost lovers taken from this world. She said a small prayer for them and her. Riga shook her head. Wiping a tear from her eye Riga continued. Why not make it fifteen times round the track? For my buddies. Riga was more than a small sexy gal on a running track...

guy/gal pilots together hehe

 

Pilot Gal

Another small one says Hi to me

It was she who started it

I notice her she wears a coloured dress

We speak later after all the tasks are done

She is from a different island far from here

We talk about us and shop and more

She reads books I’ve some old ones

I’ll drop them off another day

Surprisingly she asked me some things

Displaying confidence if a shyness

This is fine I’ve my own things to ask

We do have a connection there

I’m glad she got in touch

She’s found out how hard it is

What we do for a living

I’ve been there I tell her

We can get together and eat

Before we fly off to combat

There are no rules here

In anything we do

Combat pilots till our end

You’re in the new batch

///////////////////

Before Combat Posting

I love your energy you display to me as much as I love you in the dress

As much as I love looking at your legs and bulge of breasts

I love the daring probing questions you ask as you search for answers

I ask my own to you not as daring simply to talk and to know you

How close are our journeys close enough to be together for how long?

We have a long way ahead of us let’s take this together not apart

I hope you are different from the others and yes you are

Yet some things remain the same how to deal with those?

Many things can be done or said we will do all of this

Right now let’s talk spend time together I like your eyes

I enjoy your curves in the figure hugging dress or jeans you wear

What did you wear on the other three weeks how close were we?

Yet not talking in that time how would we be now if we had?

Each week not a day memories times decision events more

See you later we don’t have much time we have one another

At least till we are posted to a combat squadron together I pray

 

 

Riga 309 Despondent

 

Riga 309 Despondent

Riga flew her Messerschmitt 309 in a curve. She tilted the stick to the left and fed in left rudder. Her plane described part of a huge circle in the sky. The sky was grey. Here I am. Riga the pilot. Only me up here. Free for a few hours that I have fuel for. On patrol looking for enemy planes. Their bombers are dangerous, their spy planes more so. Yet they or the war take nothing away of the beauty up here. Look at the sunbeams flashing through the clouds there. It’s like the sky is alive. So very pretty. Only I see it. Pedro would like this. Oh! Where are you now Pedro? I am sorry for banishing you from my life…

  

Just then Riga’s engine stopped. The roaring noise ceased. Silence. Fucking Hell! The oil pressure immediately dropped to zero. She small gal was snapped from her reverie. Her hands and mind were quick. She feathered the prop and stilled the wind milling blades. She extended her flaps and switched the engine off. Monitored the displays and gauges. Then she checked her location and height. Next, she radioed base.

 

“This is Riga. I am on patrol in Quadrant 3. I have an emergency! Inflight engine failure. Oil pressure is zero. I cannot maintain flight or height. I will attempt to force land. Am sending my co-ordinates now. I need to find a landing place. I am declaring a Mayday. Standby for co-ords…”

 

“Base Control acknowledges. We hear you Riga. We see you on radar and will send the rescue chopper. Get down safely. Radio back if you get down ok. Happy landings! Base out.”

 

Riga adjusted her seat straps. They were tight. As was her helmet strap. She lifted up the tinted visor and lowered the clear visor. She fiddled with her glasses. Excellent vision was needed now. Her eyes scanned the terrain twelve thousand feet below. It was flat and semi-desert. This part of China was big. She reversed course and glided in the direction of her base. How far was it? There was no way an engineless plane would reach it. If she landed well and they sent mechanics maybe, just maybe she could fly out again. Maybe. The next few minutes would tell. Her third forced landing. She thought of Pedro. How to get him back.