How to stop Somali Pirates

Earlier this evening, I read the piracy policy proposed by Hillary Clinton. She stated that the State Department will work with shippers and insurers to bolster their defenses against pirates, part of a diplomatic initiative to thwart attacks on commercial ships off the Somali coast. She even suggested that there might be raids on pirate strongholds.

I see this as being an ineffective solution. These thugs are not so easily dissuaded.

As it stands now, more and more Somalis are participating because the risk is low and they know that the ship owners or their insurance companies will eventually pay off.

If you truly want to stop a behavior, there must be enough fear to provide the needed motivation.

So, how do you create the necessary fear?

Use the resources we already have.

Spy satellites. Use our ability to read license plates from space to observe and track the pirates. Once identified, and having sailed out into international waters towing their smaller boat.... Sink them without warning. Keep the ops covert.

When the "motherships" begin to disappear, word will get around the pirate gangs very quickly.

To do this, the Navy needs to deploy a carrier to the western Indian Ocean. At least one F/A-18 should be airborne, armed with air to surface missiles. When a pirate vessel is identified, direct the aircraft to attack and destroy the ship. No warning, just a brief second of recognition of their impending doom.... Then, kaboom! No more mothership.

Take out enough of these vessels and the pirates will quickly reconsider their racket. Facing the reality that venturing out to sea armed to the teeth will invite attack, nerves will be tingling. A sea skimming missile won't be spotted until it is right on top of them, assuming they are looking in that direction. Likewise, a Maverick gives little warning. Few things would be more terrifying.

A Tragic Loss

Last evening, I received the terrible news that a locally owned Curtiss P-40 had crashed in the ocean just off the beach at Smith’s Point park. Its pilot, Robert Baranaskas, was killed.

I met Bob Baranaskas and his son Chris back in October of 2007 at a local air show. Bob owned several World War II aircraft, a North American AT-6 Advanced Trainer, a beautiful North American P-51D Mustang, and a recently restored Curtiss P-40. Bob kept his aircraft at the Brookhaven airport (where the air show took place). Typically, Bob would fly the P-40 and Chris piloted the P-51 during flight demonstrations.

My conversations with Bob were brief, focused on his aircraft. He was an affable gentleman, showing a great love for these vintage fighters, which he restored and maintained at great personal expense. I had the opportunity to shoot many photos of Bob’s fighters thanks to having good access to them. Both the P-40 and P-51 were maintained in perfect condition. Bob’s death was a shock. He was a careful and smart pilot. Several years ago, he safely landed his P-40 in a cornfield when he found his controls jammed. A combination of skill and luck prevented injury and damage.

Details of what happened yesterday are in short supply. The NTSB is scheduled to begin an investigation today. Chris was on the beach spotting for his father, in radio contact. He watched the P-40 crash into the sea. I cannot image his horror. Witnesses said the P-40 climbed vertically, then snapped over into a spiral, corkscrewing down into the ocean. I’m certain that further details will be released as the investigation develops. At this point, this is all I know about the accident.

There is much that I do know about the Curtiss P-40 aircraft. I will not go into the history of the aircraft in any depth, as this can be found on the web. I will tell you that the P-40 was a development of the pre-war P-36. Curtiss replaced the air-cooled radial engine of the P-36 with an Allison V-1710 V12 engine and the resulting aircraft was designated the XP-40 by the Army Air Corps (the Air Force didn’t have independent status from the Army until September of 1947).

Many versions of the fighter were produced until manufacturing ceased in 1944. It was not a world class fighter when the U.S. entered the war in December of 1941, but is was adequate. It saw extensive combat in every theater of the war. An export version of the early P-40 (named the Tomahawk) equipped the famous Flying Tigers, who battled the Japanese while flying for Nationalist China. A significant number were sent via Lend Lease to the Soviet Union, where the need for fighters was desperate in the fight to stop the German advance.

P-40s and P-39s held the line against the enemy through the autumn of 1942, when they began to be supplemented by increasing numbers of newer and more capable fighters. Even after it was obvious that the P-40 was well past its prime, the were used effectively as tactical fighters. In this capacity, they soldiered on for another two years, leaving the air combat role to the new machines.

There were more than a few fighter pilots who were not pleased to turn in their rugged and reliable P-40s for the new, higher performance fighters that were arriving overseas in vast quantities.

Bob’s Curtiss was a P-40E model. This model began entering service prior to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Bob's P-40E was painted in the correct color scheme and national markings for that time period.

P-40s were well liked because they had no serious vices under most flight conditions. Early short fuselage models were prone to ground looping (basically, a spin-out on the ground), so pilots had to be quick on the rudder pedals and most would hold the tail wheel off the runway for as long as possible. Stall behavior was considered benign in simple stalls. Accelerated stalls and nose high stalls revealed a vicious departure into a violent spin.

Before his death several years ago, I was a friend of Erik Shilling. Erik was one of the Flying Tigers (AVG, American Volunteer Group) and an Army Test Pilot at Langley Field in the years immediately preceding WWII. Few pilots had more experience flying the P-40, and even fewer had Shilling’s piloting skill level. Erik wrote about the P-40’s departure characteristics.

“Spin recovery for the P-36 was the standard NACA recovery. Flat spin recovery was pro spin: full aileron into the spin, stick full back, and rudder into the spin. When the nose dropped and normal spin developed, standard NACA recovery was used.

However, the P-40 had a vicious tumble if a stall was entered into at a nose high position of about 60 degrees above the horizon. To recover from the tumble you reduced power and went along for the ride with all controls in neutral. After about 12,000 feet the nose settled into a vertical dive from which recovery was normal.”

In a conversation with Erik in 1997, he described the P-40’s accelerated stall behavior.

“One thing you never wanted to do was push the P-40 into an accelerated stall below 10,000 feet. I learned this the hard way. I was flying near 8,000 feet and rolled into a hard left turn. I pulled too much elevator and the P-40 abruptly snap-rolled into an oscillating nose high, nose low departure. Any attempted to counter the oscillation only increased its violence. Realizing that I was only making the situation worse, I pulled off the power, centered the stick and rudder and let the P-40 find its own balance. After what seemed like minutes, the oscillation self-damped and the P-40 settled into a left-hand spin. I countered the spin, adding in right rudder to stop the rotation. Once stabilized, I pulled out barely 100 feet above the ground.”

Based upon the reports of witnesses to Bob’s crash, it seems that on the face of it, he may have stalled his P-40 with the nose well above the horizon. At typical air show altitude, there simply will not be enough height above the ground to recover in time.

This is really speculation. If he did stall, why? Did he lose power while nose high? Was there some other yet undefined malfunction? Was there a sudden, serious medical issue that prevented Bob from flying the airplane? I can’t answer those questions and will have to wait until the NTSB releases some preliminary findings. If Bob was in radio contact with Chris immediately before the accident, Chris may have insight into what went wrong.

In the interim, there is nothing anyone can do but mourn Bob’s death and offer prayers of support for his family.

Bob will be missed here, he was well known and well liked. God speed Bob, God speed.

The Great Corolla Blight

How many times have you been driving down a two-lane road stuck behind a slow moving line of traffic? If you are a typical driver, this is a daily experience. While traffic may be crawling along due to a large truck, or a slow moving construction vehicle; in many instances it is a passenger car that’s clogging the neck of the funnel. Too often that passenger car is a Toyota Corolla.

Corollas are very popular with the driving public. This is predictable when one considers that these cars offer superior build quality, excellent reliability and have very good resale value. If those are your primary motivations for purchasing a car, then the Corolla may be your gold standard. However, those same motivations usually exclude factors such as “fun to drive”. I have never found the Corolla to be a “fun” car. Competent and reliable, but a long way from being fun. Nonetheless, this piece is not about the car itself. It's about the people who drive it.

My observation is that Corolla owners shop for transportation like you might shop for a refrigerator. They want to take it home, plug it in and never think about it thereafter. In general terms, this segment of the driving population seldom drives for pleasure, but out of necessity. My experience tells me that people who do not enjoy a task do not perform it well. They will, however, purchase a car that makes their driving experience as painless as possible.

Before I go much further, I should state that I view the Corolla as a frequent stepping-stone to the ultimate boring ride; the Toyota Camry. Archeologists have found 100,000 year-old flint knives that had more edge than the Camry. Nonetheless, dull is hip among the masses who believe “Everybody Loves Raymond” represents their concept of highbrow, hoity-toity entertainment. Of course, the masses’ previous fascination with Seinfeld only proves that dull and wussified can be immensely profitable.

So, who buys the Corolla, what is the demographic? Well, you don’t need a Madison Avenue type to determine this; simply look in the cars and observe who is behind the wheel. Women seem to constitute the bulk of Corolla drivers, with perhaps 60% of the drivers being female.

Men drive the Corolla too, and unlike the ladies; many men feel the need to disguise this fact by adding over-the-top after-market items, like ultra-low profile tires and ridiculously large wings. I recently observed a new Corolla with a wing so large that its drag certainly reduced the car’s already tepid performance. Driving this horror was a bookish looking fellow who gave me the impression that he couldn’t buy a clue if he had Bill Gates’ fortune.

My thought is that if you want a sports car, buy one. No amount of after-market doohickeys can disguise the fact that they are driving one of the preeminent poop-mobiles on the road today.

That said, if one wants a sports car, Toyota does not offer one these days. They offer nothing that could be classified as fun or entertaining. I look at Toyota as the Japanese Buick.

At one time, Toyota offered several sports cars, such as the Supra and the MR2. The Supra disappeared after the 1998 model year. They discontinued the MR2 two years ago due to poor sales. You can blame that on Toyota's failure to upgrade horsepower and no attempt to market the car. It was a marvelous little car, with great handling, reliability and huge fun factor.

Visit your local Toyota dealer today, and what do you find? You find a selection of vehicles that are competent, reliable and utterly uninspiring. Yet, this is a certain recipe for success based upon the average driver.

Look at the Prius as the perfect example. Touted as a "green" alternative, the Prius must be driven for at least eight years at 12,000 miles per year to break even on its high initial price, and that's based upon $3.50 gasoline. Over six years, the Honda Fit or Mini Cooper are less expensive to operate. How many people keep a car longer than six years these days? Moreover, the Fit and Mini are far better cars in terms of driving dynamics, performance and fun. A majority of those who buy a Prius do so under the illusion that they will save money. The sad fact is that they will not save a dime, especially when gas prices hover around $2.00 per gallon.

Toyota has become a paragon of quality. Yet, their cars lack personality and soul. Without these two intangibles, their vehicles have become the automotive equivalent of Cultural Revolution's unisex gray suit. Ideal for the masses, but not for me.

It's a Jeep Thing

Over the past 100 years, few vehicles have spawned a sub-culture the like of which Jeep has. To be specific, the Jeep CJ series and its descendants, called the Wrangler today. Wranglers are simply the most capable off road vehicles you can buy out of a new car dealer showroom. From the mighty Rubicon, to the more street oriented Sahara, to the base X model (that can be optioned to near Rubicon capability), Wranglers are all about going anywhere, anytime.

Other manufacturers have attempted to compete with the Wrangler. Hummer, Nissan and Toyota all offer vehicles that very capable on less than severe trails. Nonetheless, the vast majority of those who buy these SUVs will never use them to their full capability. This is in stark contrast to Wrangler owners. At least, it was.

In 2007, Jeep introduced the first four-door Wrangler. Previously considered impractical for families in its two-door guise, the 4-door suddenly changed the basic demographic of Wrangler drivers. People completely new to the Wrangler are often ignorant of the culture. They don't understand that Wrangler drivers always wave to other Wrangler drivers. They don't realize that getting the Jeep muddy is a rite of passage. Not venturing off road is almost sinful.

Wranglers have always been a lifestyle statement. The desired image is often that of rugged individualists who want to the world to recognize that they will not conform to society's norms. The new reality is that this often not the case. More so now since the 4-door was introduced.

Wrangler owners have always been scornful of the so-called Hummer “mall crawlers”. So the sudden influx of generation X and Y moms driving around in Wranglers comes as a shock to the deep rooted traditional Jeep social structure. Go back just three years and you'll find that many women who owned Wrangler, took them off road. Even if this was limited to a beach or mild trail, most of the ladies used the vehicle's capability. With the growing number of female Wrangler Unlimited drivers, the percentage of ladies hitting the trails is dropping relative to the total population of female owners. It's now common to see one or more child safety seats strapped into the back of four door Wranglers.

Indeed, the ultimate horror for a Wrangler owner is to have some ignorant person state that “your Jeep looks a lot like a Hummer”. I had this happen in the dealership parking lot. A thirty-something female in a minivan made that exact comment.

“You’re joking, right?”, I asked.

“No”, says the lady. “They look alike”, she replied.

“In what ways?”

Looking perplexed, she says, “I don’t know, they just do.”

“I see, four wheels, four fenders, four doors and big tires…. Would it matter to you if I said that the Jeep was around for nearly 60 years before the Hummer?”

“That Jeep is not 60 years old.”, the lady replied.

It was clear that she wasn’t going to get it if Fed-Ex dropped it off. Climbing into the Wrangler, I wondered how Darwin missed this one.

Jeeps evoke various reactions from people. A Wrangler is a completely masculine vehicle, and that intimidates some people, while others admire its "in your face" demeanor. Sitting alongside a Rav4 at a traffic light, it's like Clint Eastwood sharing a table with Don Knotts.

One afternoon, I spot late model Vette owner walking around my Jeep in a parking lot as I approached.

"Nice Jeep", he stated, "I like the color."

"Thanks, the color is red rock crystal."

"How does it drive?"

"It drives like a Jeep. Better than the previous model, but it's still an off road vehicle."

"Yeah,", he said, "the Vette spoiled me."

I smiled, "I'm sure it has. Wranglers are on the opposite end of the spectrum from the Corvette. Tall, rough ride, not much in the handling department."

He understood the point. "Not really very good road manners, I guess."

"True", I agreed, "but you don't buy a Wrangler for its road manners anymore that you buy a Corvette for its luggage capacity. Different purposes, completely different vehicles. Both are great fun in their own niche."

He was in agreement. I unlocked the door and held out the keys to him.

"Want to give a try"?

His initial reaction was hesitation.

"Go ahead, you might find it better than you think."

"Alright", he said. I climbed into the passenger seat.

After about a 15 minute drive around town, we pulled back into the parking lot. I had learned that his name was Bill, he was married with seven year-old twin sons. His wife drives a Honda minivan, and he drives a 2004 Trailblazer to and from work.

Bill was very impressed with the Wrangler. It was simply fun to drive. He was very surprised at the quality and layout of the cabin, as well as the relative quiet.

Before we went on our separate ways, we exchanged business cards.

About two months later, I get a call at work from Bill. He had traded his Trailblazer in on a new Jeep Wrangler Unlimited (4 door) with dual tops (hard and soft). He said that his wife and boys absolutely loved it. So, Bill now has both ends of the car spectrum covered, with a minivan filling the middle. He said that they were all looking forward to driving up to Cape Cod with the top down. I know that they will have a blast.

It's a Jeep thing, you wouldn't understand....

Did you meet the Mayor of Stupidville today?

Finding Stupidville is an easy task. You don’t need a GPS. Your car’s navigation system isn’t required. Leave the road map in the glove box. No need to ask directions at a gas station. You already live there and the city limits are infinite.

Stupidville is as intangible as the emerald city of Oz. Yet, it’s real and it’s everywhere. Stupidville is as omnipresent as air. Most people are unwitting residents. There are good odds are that you have already met the Mayor. Maybe it was in a convenience store, perhaps on line at the local Lowes. The Mayor doesn't wear a badge, or hand out business cards, but is known to everyone who has ever ventured outside of their home.

Not long ago, I met the Mayor of Stupidville when I stopped at the 7-11 store for a newspaper. He was buying $60 in lottery tickets while his pre-school age daughter stood alongside in filthy clothes and matted hair. I leaned over and said, “you know, you’re a shoe-in for re-election.”

He only frowned in reply. Mayors are not always happy to talk politics with constituents.

I met the Mayor of Stupidville on Valentine’s day, in the parking lot of a strip mall. He wheeled his Lexus SUV into a handicapped parking space and hooked a disabled driver parking pass onto his mirror. Leaping from Lexus, the Mayor sprinted towards a greeting card store.

“Hello Mayor!”, I shouted.

Without even a glance my way, he burst through the door. I suppose that Mayors are often too busy being socially conscious to remember Valentine’s day.

Just last week I saw the Mayor on the highway. She was driving in the passing lane with a cell phone pressed to her ear. Her other hand showed a pinky and ring finger curled around the steering wheel of her BMW, while a lit cigarette was clamped between the middle and index fingers.

As the BMW drifted into the center lane, I offered her a friendly toot of the horn in recognition. In return, I received a gracious one finger wave in reply. I see another Mayoral term in her future.

This very morning, I met the Mayor yet again. Being a civil servant, Mayors are often called upon to help their local community. She was driving a mini-bus today, no doubt giving the regular driver a well-earned day off. Slowing as she signaled a right turn, the Mayor made a left turn as traffic began passing on her left. It was fortunate that one of the other drivers recognized the Mayor, and avoided a collision by driving over a curb. With the busy schedule that goes with the job, the Mayor didn't have time to stop and check on the woman, whose car now had a bent wheel and a flat tire. The Mayor had to get those children to school on time, you know.

While public service is a wonderful goal, I think I’m going to pass on running for office in Stupidville. There are more than enough candidates.