GOOD LUCKSoon now, he would be flying out over the ocean. Soon he would be famous and rich. Lindbergh had made it. Why shouldn’t he?His ship was almost ready. Its belly bulged with new tanks. Its wings stretched with new width to take the added gas load. Its motor emitted a perfect sound that his trained ears could find no fault with.Only the final adjusting of his instruments remained. Lindbergh had taken great pains with his instruments. He would too. When the ground crew had finished with them, he flew his ship on a short cross-country trip to check the instruments in flight. They worked fine.He brought his ship down to put it in the hangar until he got his break in weather. He lingered in the cockpit for a few moments, contemplating his instruments in anticipation of the weary hours he would have to watch them during the long flight.A thought occurred to him. Lindbergh had been lucky. He would be too. His girl (sweet kid—maybe when he came back ... but he would do the job first) had already wished him luck. She had given him a token of her wish. It was only a cheap thing she had picked up in some novelty shop, but he treasured it. He took it out of his pocket. He tied it to the instrument board and fashioned its bright red ribbon into a neat bow knot that reminded him of the way she fastened her apron when she made coffee for him in her kitchen late at night. There. Yes, he too would have luck now.Several days later his break in the weather hadn’t come yet. He got worried about his instruments. There were no landmarks in the ocean. Maybe he had better check his compass again.He went out to the field and flew his ship. The compass was off! It was way off! When the ground crew checked it again it was off twenty degrees on the first reading.They soon found the trouble. As everybody knows, metal near a compass will throw it off. They found a metal imitation of a rabbit’s foot suspended on a red ribbon tied to the bottom of the compass case.
GOOD LUCKSoon now, he would be flying out over the ocean. Soon he would be famous and rich. Lindbergh had made it. Why shouldn’t he?His ship was almost ready. Its belly bulged with new tanks. Its wings stretched with new width to take the added gas load. Its motor emitted a perfect sound that his trained ears could find no fault with.Only the final adjusting of his instruments remained. Lindbergh had taken great pains with his instruments. He would too. When the ground crew had finished with them, he flew his ship on a short cross-country trip to check the instruments in flight. They worked fine.He brought his ship down to put it in the hangar until he got his break in weather. He lingered in the cockpit for a few moments, contemplating his instruments in anticipation of the weary hours he would have to watch them during the long flight.A thought occurred to him. Lindbergh had been lucky. He would be too. His girl (sweet kid—maybe when he came back ... but he would do the job first) had already wished him luck. She had given him a token of her wish. It was only a cheap thing she had picked up in some novelty shop, but he treasured it. He took it out of his pocket. He tied it to the instrument board and fashioned its bright red ribbon into a neat bow knot that reminded him of the way she fastened her apron when she made coffee for him in her kitchen late at night. There. Yes, he too would have luck now.Several days later his break in the weather hadn’t come yet. He got worried about his instruments. There were no landmarks in the ocean. Maybe he had better check his compass again.He went out to the field and flew his ship. The compass was off! It was way off! When the ground crew checked it again it was off twenty degrees on the first reading.They soon found the trouble. As everybody knows, metal near a compass will throw it off. They found a metal imitation of a rabbit’s foot suspended on a red ribbon tied to the bottom of the compass case.
Soon now, he would be flying out over the ocean. Soon he would be famous and rich. Lindbergh had made it. Why shouldn’t he?
His ship was almost ready. Its belly bulged with new tanks. Its wings stretched with new width to take the added gas load. Its motor emitted a perfect sound that his trained ears could find no fault with.
Only the final adjusting of his instruments remained. Lindbergh had taken great pains with his instruments. He would too. When the ground crew had finished with them, he flew his ship on a short cross-country trip to check the instruments in flight. They worked fine.
He brought his ship down to put it in the hangar until he got his break in weather. He lingered in the cockpit for a few moments, contemplating his instruments in anticipation of the weary hours he would have to watch them during the long flight.
A thought occurred to him. Lindbergh had been lucky. He would be too. His girl (sweet kid—maybe when he came back ... but he would do the job first) had already wished him luck. She had given him a token of her wish. It was only a cheap thing she had picked up in some novelty shop, but he treasured it. He took it out of his pocket. He tied it to the instrument board and fashioned its bright red ribbon into a neat bow knot that reminded him of the way she fastened her apron when she made coffee for him in her kitchen late at night. There. Yes, he too would have luck now.
Several days later his break in the weather hadn’t come yet. He got worried about his instruments. There were no landmarks in the ocean. Maybe he had better check his compass again.
He went out to the field and flew his ship. The compass was off! It was way off! When the ground crew checked it again it was off twenty degrees on the first reading.
They soon found the trouble. As everybody knows, metal near a compass will throw it off. They found a metal imitation of a rabbit’s foot suspended on a red ribbon tied to the bottom of the compass case.