My uncle was a pilot. I’ve been flying an An-2 all my life. I frequently visited him and the passion as I loved to fly with him. The mail was delivered, the cargo. He also taught me a little. And then in the summer of 96 he calls me and says:

- I was thrown a halter here (the bandits pressed the plane and asked to drive it to Ufa) the aircraft was asked from Orenburg to Ufa to move. You want a computer, right? Flying with me? You buy it and I will buy you a computer.

Flying of course! What Questions?

Early in the morning a man came after us and we went to Orenburg.

We came, we were met, we were fed. Let’s show you the plane. We arrive at the airport, and there the Tu-134 stands.

Do you need to fly this plane?

They say, this one. Are you not a pilot?

I’ve been flying an An-2 all my life.

Oh, what a difference! What kind of man do you want to give up?

“Men, I said I am an An-2 pilot.

Well what? I know how to drive a car, do you think I can’t drive a truck?

There is a crew of 4 people. I need a shuttle mechanic.

- Fuck you are carrying, here to fly 400 kilometers, it is not possible without an assailant, right?

Which as they managed to peacefully explain that there are “some small” differences in the technique.

It was time!