By Ella Lucas, EAA 1518806
Background
As a 16-year-old girl with an affinity for numbers, I chose accounting because it felt like a logical path for studies. I was decent at it, thanks to a natural knack for math, but it was an affair without passion. The thrill was absent, replaced by ledgers, balance sheets, and reconciliations. However, the thought was that if I stuck with it, I would have the safety of always having a job.
Then came a defining moment. A turning point presented during a casual sit-down with my dad after a college Zoom presentation for sophomores. The online message was that we needed to start planning now for college. After the video call, he asked me what I wanted to do. In typical teenage fashion, I gave him the “I don’t know,” hoping to blow him off. He persisted, and I realized I wasn’t going anywhere until we figured it out. When I mentioned an ambition to become an airline stewardess, he looked at me and quipped, “Why serve peanuts when you could fly the plane?” The words weren’t just a revelation; they were a mission.
With familial approval, I was ecstatic to drop the dull world of accounting and pursue the exhilarating realm of aviation with singular focus. I joined every organization possible — Civil Air Patrol, Women in Aviation, and (of course) EAA. I went on introductory flights. I read books like Come up and Get me and Fly Girls (as well as ground school books like The Pilot’s Manual). I talked to every pilot I could. My classes revolved around meteorology, avionics, and ground school. Then, on a whim, I volunteered for an EAA historical flight.
The First Encounter
On October 19, I went to the 2023 EAA Chapter 92 Ford Tri-Motor Tour in Chino, California. I felt a unique connection with Henry Ford’s vintage marvel. It was a perfectly cloudless day to experience this magic firsthand. Venturing into the domain of vintage aviation, I was captivated. First, it was a party of my people. Everyone was a hard-core aviation geek. And as someone aspiring to conquer the sky as a commercial airline pilot, this opportunity became much more than a volunteering stint; it was an inspiring journey through time with people in my tribe.
On that day, the aircraft stole my heart. Affectionately known as the “Tin Goose,” at first glance, the Tri-Motor seemed like something from a post-apocalyptic Mad Max film. With its raw construction, exposed engines throbbing with life, it was easy to see the craft for what it truly was — a breathtaking marvel of engineering.
Comparing the Tri-Motor to modern aircraft felt like contrasting breadboard electronics with an iPhone. The intricacies, the exposed elements, the obvious functions — they lay bare the marvels of early aviation. Modern aircraft at airports, with their sleek designs and computerized functionalities, although incredible, often mask the genius of their engineering. In contrast, with the Tri-Motor, every rivet, every strut, every wire showcased the ingenuity of its time.
While modern airplanes boast of speed, efficiency, and a host of digital features, the Tri-Motors were spacious — a luxury in their era. What’s fascinating is how they set a precedent for design evolution. Over time, we’ve streamlined, optimized, and advanced, but these vintage airplanes give a pristine view into our roots.
Ford’s 1929 ads boasted, “No Ford plane has yet worn out in service.” This testament to durability isn’t mere hyperbole. Out of the 199 Tri-Motors manufactured nearly a century ago, 18 still exist in various states today. Eight remain airworthy, five grace museums with static displays, and five are being lovingly restored. A testament to the Tri-Motor’s reputation, these figures also emphasize the importance of preserving and appreciating aviation history.
For younger enthusiasts like me, understanding our aviation heritage is crucial. It not only teaches respect for the pioneers but also reinforces the importance of innovation. The Ford Tri-Motor, as the first luxury airliner, transformed global travel, heralding the era of commercial flight. Today, as I dream of piloting cutting-edge aircraft across continents, I owe a debt of gratitude to these vintage wonders and the visionaries behind them as well as to the organizations that maintain them.
My love at first sight evolved into some research and deep thoughts (at least as deep as a teenage girl can go) and some unanswered questions.
Ford’s Triangle
When I think of Henry Ford, I think of assembly lines and “I like every color as long as it’s black.” He seemed to be a focused entrepreneur and engineer. His car company still exists today and makes everything from racy Mustangs (and I want one SO bad) to super functional trucks. If anyone could figure out how to make commercial airplanes work, it would be him.
But he didn’t. Apparently, they lost money, so he dropped it. Why? What happened? Why didn’t he figure it out? Didn’t he love aviation? Maybe. Maybe not. I’m just speculating, but it seems that he saw it as a business opportunity (and he loved money), but he wasn’t necessarily into flying. He made a beautiful airplane, but it didn’t pay the bills. So, he walked away. Ford’s venture into aviation was driven not just by the excitement of flying but also by the draw of financial gains. He saw commercial flight as an untapped goldmine. Still, his pioneering Tri-Motor couldn’t quite find commercial success. Its nickname, “Tin Goose,” summed up its position — an admirable fowl, but not the golden goose Ford had hoped for.
Ford’s Tri-Motor did leave a legacy, serving as a kick-off to the era of commercial flying, but the financial boon he envisioned didn’t materialize. As I looked at the remnants of his vision — the 18 surviving Tri-Motors — I realized the cautionary tale it spun. Passion projects often come with hidden costs. They require more than just love; they demand balance, like balancing books in accounting.
My Triangle
My love triangle goes in the opposite direction as Henry Ford. I love aviation, but I’m not sure about how I’m going to afford it. I’m making it right now thanks to living at home and a pretty good waitressing gig. But — full confession — I have a phobia about not going the full-distance in aviation and having to walk away. For me, it is a perpetual struggle between the call of the sky and the practical need for accounting to fund my ambitions. Embracing the sky was a choice, but so was abandoning the analytical skills I was developing in accounting. I feel like Henry Ford had to have neglected his heart and overlooked the economic issues of his aviation venture. As a lesson, I need to re-engage my brain and not forsake the math that makes my flights possible. This has been a bit of a wake-up call for me, as well something to ponder. My first thought is the irony is that while I was fleeing accounting, I now need to embrace it more than ever.
I have met several people who have started going for a private pilot certificate and didn’t stick with it. The two reasons I hear the most for not continuing are cost or loss of passion.
What causes the honeymoon feeling to go away? Will that happen to me? Will I give it up the same way a boy stops collecting comic books? Will it get boring? Will the FAA suck the energy out of me through their bureaucracy and regulations? (I’ve heard that their saying is “We’re not happy until you’re not happy.”).
The Third Triangle
Would an article about triangles be complete without a third element? This triangle is between the Tri-Motor, volunteers, and its disappointing ending. The volunteers at the Tri-Motor event were incredible. They have infected me with a passion for vintage airplanes. Each one I encountered exposed me to different elements. For instance, I learned that this type of airplane is featured in an Indiana Jones movie (Temple of Doom if you are looking). What was an impulsive time-filler for me became one of the most memorable experiences in my short life and has connected me with incredible people. The common thread is that every volunteer involved with the “Tin Goose” dreams of simpler times, empty skies, and unlimited potential.
The disappointment only comes up if you think of what could have been. Can you imagine what the next generations of Tri-Motor airplanes would look like today if Henry Ford stuck with it? Look at the Model T and then look at Mustang. Then make the same extrapolation to what the Tri-Motor would have become. In a way, I feel like the Model T. Hopefully I don’t let obstacles make me a relic that lives on nostalgia. BUT if my current dreams do fade, and my energy gets diverted to other things, I’m glad to have these experiences in my memory bank and have made interesting new friends along the way.
