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December 15, was the last flight of the last TriStar off the production line. Number of It was to be an unceremonious and woefully ungracious end to the life of this significant airplane. Landing gear mechanically pinned in the down position. We were directed to take the airplane there ostensibly for storage until its D check could be accomplished, at the completion of which it would be returned to service. But those of us on the crew. We knew the truth. Originally bound for the Royal Flight division of the government of Algeria, it was instead bought by Saudi Royal Flight. One of only two TriStars to come out of the factory in VIP configuration, its place in the production line was not the only thing that made the airplane unique. A few times a year we would pack up the family car and make the two-hour trek to see Uncle Ed and Aunt Winnie. My dad and my Uncle Ed were very close not only in their familial relationship but in age, disposition, and history. Both were simple country boys who grew up dirt poor during the Great Depression. Together they would talk, with my Uncle Ed perpetually tending to his omnipresent pipe, occasionally fascinating me by blowing smoke rings. They would laugh and remember, talking about things understood only by those who share that common background. Through the windowpane of my childhood eyes, Indianapolis was a huge city, and during our drives from my small southwestern Indiana hometown of Washington, those eyes would only grow wider as I saw the landscape change from the rolling hills, rural farms, and small towns of southern Indiana to the highways, traffic, and skyscrapers of the big city. I grew up wanting to be a pilot. While growing up most kids go through the stages of wanting to be a policeman, a fireman, or a baseball player. Not so with me. I never went through any of those phases. Nobody in my family ever had anything to do with airplanes. No relatives or close family friends were pilots or were in the military, no one I knew was an airplane mechanic or any of the sort. I read books about airplanes, drew pictures of airplanes, and built model airplanes. It was my very first toy airplane. I have that toy airplane to this day. It figures prominently in my curio cabinet at home, along with my original student pilot logbook, a whiskey compass from a TriStar, a Litton LTN Omega CDU, and other treasured memorabilia significant to my career. Although it is quite a bit worse for the wear, with lots of scratches, scrapes, and even a missing engine nacelle, all accumulated by a small child playing with it almost incessantly, it is among my most precious possessions. On every trip we took to Indianapolis my parents would treat me to a stop at the Indianapolis airport. At that point in history, it was named Weir Cook Airport. The park was nothing spectacular, just a couple of picnic tables, a few maple trees, and a small parking lot oriented so you could watch the airplanes land. The approach end of the runway was right across the street from the airport park, separated from the airport park by only Pierson Drive and a security fence. When landing, the airplanes would seem so close it looked like you could hit one with a rock. Back on the ramp in Riyadh, we were preparing for the ferry to Ras al Khaimah. We had to fly it unpressurized; there was no real way around this requirement. But to fly it on its last flight without retracting the gear was unconscionable in my mind. The main reason for these requirements was that the airplane was out of date on just about every maintenance inspection that was due. Engines, landing gear, everything was out of date. The benefactor of meticulous maintenance by Saudi Royal Flight, it was obvious that the airplane was mechanically sound, and it had just been ferried from Jeddah to Riyadh a few months earlier with zero issues. But rules are rules and given its out-of-inspection status these were the requirements we had to meet. I talked with Steve and Mike, my close friends who were the other two members of the cockpit crew. They shared my sentiment that this was no way to ferry this airplane. We came up with an alternate plan. The Saudi maintenance supervisor frowned. The gear is out of inspection. We are required to pin the gear for the ferry flight. Implementing our plan with as stern of a face as I could muster, I said that I understood, but my concern was safety of flight. Given that the engines were out of inspection status, I wanted to be able to retract the gear after takeoff in the event we had an engine failure. I proposed to him that we would leave the gear extended for the flight unless we had an engine failure, but I wanted the ability to retract the gear if it was necessary. Pinning the landing gear would make that option impossible. The summer of my 14 th year we were at the little airport park when I saw my first TriStar. The sun gleamed off its polished aluminum livery. The center engine was stylishly molded into the fuselage. On the approach it looked as if the nose was pitched up higher than other airplanes, giving it the aura of nobility and pride, a look no other airplane I saw had. I was mesmerized. It was love at first sight. From that moment on I was completely enamored with the airplane. I knew right then and there what airplane I wanted to fly. I stopped drawing pictures of s and started drawing pictures of TriStars. Over the next months I would write to the Lockheed factory and ask for pictures of the airplane. As an adult looking back, I can envision a secretary in an office reading a handwritten letter from a teenage boy asking for pictures of the airplane. I like to think that secretary had a smile on her face as she placed some pictures in an envelope and put them in the mail to this kid from Indiana. That same summer I had my first flying lesson in a Piper Colt. Such was the case with my starting flying lessons. I had read in the regulations that you could solo a glider at the age of Upon encountering this revelation, I marched my year-old self into the living room where my dad was sitting, showed him the reg, and announced I wanted to start flying lessons. It was so much better than it was in my imagination. All that time the letters to Lockheed continued, the L pictures and drawings kept coming, and I never forgot the TriStar that I saw in Indianapolis that day. And to get hired by that airline you must have mountains of experience. Then, once you manage to get hired at said airline you must reach the seniority level that allows you to hold that particular airplane. I came to realize that the TriStar was much further away than it seemed that day at the little airport park. I frowned at the thought that I would never get to fly the airplane I dreamed about. Onward and upward. The years went by. Gathering my ratings, flight-instructing throughout college building experience, I managed to eventually be hired by a local commuter airline. But as time went by more reality began to set in. At that specific point in airline history, both were virtually requirements to get a job flying for a major airline. The calendar had now advanced to It was 13 years hence from my first TriStar encounter at the little airport park. The TriStar had been in service for 15 years. Production of the TriStar ceased three years earlier and the clock was ticking on its service life. Technology was changing. Translated to English that means routes that were once the exclusive domain of 3- and 4-engine airplanes could now be flown by airplanes with only two engines. Even if I got hired by an airline today it would be many years before I held the seniority that would allow me to fly the airplane. That realization, and the gravity behind it, saddened me. The stage was set. The requirement to fly the airplane unpressurized was a different story, not something we could worm our way around based on a technicality. We had to file a flight plan that would reveal our requested cruise altitude, and a copy of the flight plan had to be provided to the Saudi civil aviation authorities as part of the ferry permit. Even if we were to ask ATC to climb to a higher altitude after takeoff the authorities would know about it, and we might later have some explaining to do. So, we were stuck with flying unpressurized. But the indignity of a stiff-legged ferry flight was now, unbeknownst to our Saudi hosts or anyone but those of us on the crew, history. The time came to depart. There existed a paradox, an incongruity in my emotions on this flight. The engines were started one by one. The sounds, the sensations now so very familiar to me after my years flying the airplane, were all present as the airplane performed exactly as it was designed to during the engine start. Some of us are fortunate enough during our careers to encounter what I think Ernest K. One of those moments occurred for me at an Italian restaurant in Pittsburgh while doing simulator training for new hires on the FH Gene had been flying the BAC for our regional airline. He encouraged me to apply to American Trans Air, which of course I did. I applied but received not even an acknowledgment that my application was delivered. Very little jet time, no military experience. It was no surprise to me. It was my tradition to take new hires out to dinner at this wonderful little Italian place the evening prior to commencing our simulator training. Always consisting of only the three of us that would be present in the simulator, this was more of a team-building exercise than anything. Additionally, it was a chance to calm the nerves of what were usually young pilots embarking on their first encounter with Part airline training. We would sit and talk, discuss the upcoming sim training and how it would be conducted. What the expectations were, etc. It can be quite stressful on a young person experiencing their first training of this type. My goal was to get the trainees to relax so they had a better chance of succeeding. As providence would have it, seated at the table next to us there was an older gentleman with two younger fellows. I said yes, we are. He then asked who we flew for and what airplane were we flying? I answered his query, and his reply surprised me. After realizing how that probably came across to him, I was shocked at the tone of insolence I had probably just conveyed. He responded by telling me to come to the simulator the next day after our training period was finished. The simulator flight went great, and I was offered an interview at American Trans Air. I dared hope that the TriStar was in reach. American Trans Air had just bought the airplanes not even two years previously. But my Ernest Gann moment had not yet fully played out. At the completion of my American Trans Air interview, I was told that the company had a full complement of pilots, but they were short on L crews. I would be hired as an L copilot! The elation, the ecstasy I felt at that moment is beyond my poor power to articulate. The dreams of a year-old boy had just come true. I know not whom to credit for my inconceivable gift of good fortune. The only thing I can say for certain is that dreams do come true, because at that moment mine did. No one will ever convince me otherwise. The first person I called to tell was my mother. My father unfortunately had passed away a couple of years previous, but no one would understand the depth of what this meant to me more than my parents. We lifted off the ground at Riyadh bound for Ras al Khaimah. After that. The airplane was now clean and flying like she was meant to fly, although just at a much lower altitude. We cruised at 9, feet to avoid the necessity of wearing oxygen masks. We looked at each other and laughed, all self-satisfied with our landing gear coup. As we proceeded along with the flight, we came to appreciate that we were cruising at such a low altitude. For one, thing we were slow, restricted to knots indicated below 10, feet. The dunes of the desert were clearly visible, spotted with the occasional camel herd which we could easily see. We avoided Qatari airspace to the south and set our course just off the UAE coast flying over the waters of the Persian Gulf. We could see the oil rigs clearly. It was an amazing sight that few people get to experience. Ras al Khaimah sits very near the tip of the horn of the Saudi peninsula that defines the Strait of Hormuz. We could see the oil tankers. Our low cruise altitude and the crystal-clear desert weather provided us a vista that we otherwise would have never been able to witness. The Ras al Khaimah runway was now in sight. The excitement of the sights we enjoyed during our flight is now completely overcome by the finality of the landing. The closest I can come to describing my feelings were that sense of sadness and regret that one feels when they are taking their beloved pet to the vet to be euthanized. While we know the purpose of our journey, our cherished pet knows nothing of it. Our pet merely trusts us to take it somewhere it is supposed to be. The throttles came back for what would be the very last time. There was a little anxiety as we lowered the gear. We taxied to the ramp very slowly, wanting to extend the flight for as long as we possibly could. We shut the airplane down, ran our securing checklists and the crew exited the airplane. I was the last one off of the airplane as I wanted to take a few pictures of the interior before deplaning. I wish there were something I could do. I really do. Thus ended the last flight of the last TriStar. When we arrived at the hotel and I got to my room I was overwhelmed emotionally. The TriStar and I had some incredible adventuresduring our time together, both prior to this flight and many afterwards. I flew the airplane on six continents. It took me to the Pyramids of Egypt, to the wonder and history of Europe, to the rain forests of South America, the Great Barrier Reef of Australia and to see the ancient wonders of the Orient. It saw my mother riding with me in the cockpit jumpseat from Washington Dulles to Indianapolis. I was part of launching a rocket off the bottom of the airplane from 39, feet. Through the TriStar I met friends that I would have for life. Steve and Mike, my fellow crewmembers on the last flight of the last TriStar are still close friends with whom I have regular contact. It saw me as the TriStar Fleet Manager for American Trans Air for a bit over five years, a position and period which I look back upon as my proudest achievement in aviation. Along with my dear friend Gene Freeman and the dedicated, professional crews flying the TriStar we achieved a level of success with the airplane that our upper management not only disdained but frankly could simply not understand. Together Gene and I flew the airplane near the North Pole, reaching a latitude of 87 degrees north. I did things and went to places riding safely on the back of my magic TriStar carpet that was far beyond the wildest dreams and imagination of a teenage Indiana country boy. Professionally I credit the airplane with evolving me into the pilot I became. Every professional pilot must pass through what I call a seasoning, a period where our skills, habits and attitudes are tempered in the crucible of experience and honed to a fine edge. The TriStar was a wonderful teacher to me in that respect. In the TriStar I learned to manage a widebody aircraft, learned to prioritize tasks and developed leadership skills. Like the mobile phone and tablet devices we use today, its systems walk that fine line between being deeply complex yet not complicated in the operational arena. It gave me a deeper understanding of how airplanes work and how they fly and the difference between those two. There isa plethora of what one would consider small things in the airplane that someone obviously devoted a lot of time thinking about during design and development. I know of more than one poetic pilot who waxes lyrically about the soul of his airplane, anthropomorphizing the tons of aluminum, wire, cable and glass that make up his machine. I have a connection to the airplane that is rarely duplicated in my interactions with sentient beings. The airplane is a part of me, as surely as my hand or foot is. It does, and will always, define my career in aviation. Tags: L , Lockheed TriStar. Thank you Mark for the nice story. I work for Saudia Royal flight and I was lucky to find this story which I really enjoyed reading it. I remember when this Aircraft flown from main base in Jeddah to Riyadh after it was parked in hangar for long time. We all went out of offices and stayed behind the runway fense to see this beautiful airplane takeoff for the last time and say goodbye. I remember some of my colleagues who were flying on it as flight tech and how sad they were at that time. Everyone is saying this airplane was a revolution in the Aviation industry. Thanks again sir. I spent my final 12 years with B. I agree with all he said and feel so lucky to end my my 30 year aviation career on such a great aircraft. Thank you Mark for re-kindling may good memories. Flew the aircraft a few years but unfortunately not for great companies! I can easily say the aircraft was robust and forgiving. Flown the DC10 and MD as well……. I remember when you were doing this. I am so proud to call you friend. Hi Mark. What an incredible story. The Tri-Star has always been a favorite of mine as well. I was 8 years old, when I got to ride on my first Delta L As a controller, we were allowed to request to ride jumpseat on most of the major airlines, space permitting. I made my way from back East, to PDX and made it onto that flight deck. The cockpit area is huge. The jumpseat sat up high, but back far enough, that I could take everything in. I loved the fact, that all 3 pilots were continually engaged in flying the plane. I only wish I had videotaped it that day. Thanks for reminding us of how lucky we were to fly the L The article really brings back great memories of the aircraft as well as the quality and joy both it and you brought to the job every day. I was never more comfortable than watching you bring her into MCO during a two-engine ferry. What a wonderfully written piece of nostalgic aviation history. I had the privilege of flying as an FE on the brilliantly designed Tristar for the last 12 years of my flying career. I too loved the airplane, and will cherish this piece of prose in its memory. We have never met, my friend, but please join me in raising a glass to our beloved Tristar. Mark, Thank you for sharing this wonderful story. I only experienced 10 years on that fantastic machine, and to date it remains my favorite. Wonderful story. I only got to fly on one once. I remember how quiet it was even on takeoff. The interior had recently been updated to a modern for the time pastel sheme. Very roomy. Great airplane. A wonderful read, Mark. I was fortunate enough to get some right seat time in the airplane before I was laid off and moved to my next airplane during my career as an aviation vagabond. Wow, thank you. Great story, thanks for documenting this last flight. I loved this plane as a boarding agent for Eastern. Pass rode so many times. To this day there is no other like the L Just read your story — loved it. I can so relate to your childhood memories about loving airplanes and aviation in general — many similarities to my own history. Also, so glad you still have and cherish that Red DC Great story Barnie. Had the pleasure of hosting Bob Gordon at my house last week before visiting you. Very jealous of him still flying the only flying Tristar. We all had a very good gig. Miss it everyday. You and Gene have had a very interesting career after ATA. Wow Mark! Beautifully written about our loved TriStar! So wish we could turn back the hands of time and fly the L again. I am grateful to have flown 2 of the 3 seats. Take care my friend. Hope to see you again on the line! Great article. Thank you so much for bringing back cherished memories. I was a TriStar tech rep for Lockheed, and was out in the field with the first airplane delivered to Eastern in Had the pleasure of working with three of the Lockheed pilots you mentioned i. Thanks again for refreshing great memories of a great, great airplane. I cheered when you stated that Eastern Airlines was the first that you ever saw. I loved working that aircraft and if there was one still flting, I may still be flying too. Great story…and thank you, that is a story from your heart. That brings back such great memories. This one, however, I will always remember because of its significance in L history. Sadly, it was an unceremonious ending for this, the last TriStar. World Airline Historical Society, Inc. Curio Cabinet — My curio cabinet at home with the red toy airplane. Photo: Mark Barnard. This was the cockpit crew. Steve is programming the FMS. Photo Courtesy: Mike McCook. Map Display — This photo shows the cockpit map that was used to identify the location of Mecca at all times during the flight. This is from 9, feet over the Persian Gulf just a few miles north of the Strait of Hormuz. A close up of the shot of the Manufacturer Data Plate inside the door. Comments 21 Thank you Mark for the nice story. Thanks so much for sharing! As a school kid I hounded airline offices for brochures for years! Thanks for that great story. Reminds me of my childhood. Dan Reply. Leave a comment. Submit Comment.

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