Proficient Pilot: What’s in a name?
Fanciful thoughts on personalizing airplanes
I had expected other airplanes to be similarly adorned but was disappointed to discover that very few pilots personalize their airplanes. When nose art is added to a light airplane, it most often consists of the iconic nose art made famous by the Flying Tigers, the visage of a menacing shark. For obvious reasons, a significant number of Grumman American Tigers have similar nose art. My friend Buddy Herzog also has an affinity for the shark nose: “There is something primordial and fierce about those shark teeth surrounding the intake, where the enemy was seemingly about to be devoured. It was the image of John Wayne flying those Curtiss P–40s in the 1942 film Flying Tigers that—along with the exploits of Sky King—inspired me to fly.”
Although boat owners do not decorate their vessels with artwork, they invariably name them, something rarely done for general aviation airplanes. Many of these nautical names are quite clever, such as Seas the Day, Knot on Call (the owner is probably a doctor), Ship Happens, She Got the House, and Bow Movement (a gastroenterologist?).
Nose art evolved with the military during the Great War. One of the most famous designs was the prancing horse painted on Italian ace Francesco Baracca’s fighter. It later was chosen to become the symbol of Ferrari automobiles. Although nose art never became popular on civilian airplanes, it did become more common between the wars to give them names. Who has not heard of the Spirit of St. Louis or the Winnie Mae?
Naming airplanes and providing them with nose art became traditional during World War II. The designs expressed pilot individuality and evoked memories of home. Some of the most famous were the Enola Gay, the Memphis Belle, and the Ruptured Duck (see “I Miss My Gal,” February 2020 AOPA Pilot).
Having little else to do while sheltering at home and coping with cabin fever, I sent an email to many of my flying friends asking what sort of nose art they would apply to their aircraft (assuming they were so inclined). It was fun reading their responses.
Tom Haines answered quickly, saying that his Bonanza A36 would have the image of a vacuum cleaner sucking money out of his wallet. Kathy Morgan Haynes unhesitatingly said that she would have the Dallas Cowboys logo painted on her cowling—she had been a Cowboys cheerleader. Most female pilots such as Lori Parker favored choosing the male equivalent of pinup girls (Chippendale dancers, for example). Ramona Cox—aka Skychick—has a pair of ruby red lips on the nose cowl of her Cessna 206 (immediately beneath the spinner).
Dave Hirschman used to instruct in a clipped-wing Cub that bore the image of the small but wise Star Wars character, Yoda. This is because “although the Cub was just a lowly J–3, it taught pilots to fly like Jedi masters.”
Roger Dunham, a horse enthusiast, would have the likeness of a wild stallion attempting to buck off an alluring and scantily attired cowgirl hanging on for dear life. Elliot Sanders says that he would have the image of cartoon character Yosemite Sam, his six-shooters blazing toward a coronavirus microbe. Evan Binn would have a pinup girl wearing an N95 facemask. Several other suggestions were, well, suggestive and not politically correct.
Rabbi Don Weber says, “If I painted a sexy picture of my wife on the nose of my 172, she would never let me take the plane out of the hangar. On the other hand, if I painted a sexy picture of another woman on the airplane, I’d never get out of the house alive.”
Jay Apt, a space shuttle astronaut, was one of relatively few general aviation pilots who had nose art on his airplane. Shown on the snout of his Twin Beech, Latitude Adjustment, was a space shuttle system under power. Instead of a shuttle attached between the solid rocket boosters, however, there was an oversized 1965 Ford Mustang convertible, his first and favorite automobile that he says was a chick magnet.
And then, of course, some respondents not unexpectedly showed preference for Snoopy.
What would I have on my airplane? Lacking the imagination of my friends, I would be pleased with a winged quill being dipped into an inkwell (while hoping that my words thus formed would be read and enjoyed).
