by Glenn Daly

"If you hear me say, 'Bail Out. Bail Out!' here's what to remember: 'Headset, harness, heave-ho'!"Dash says, earnestly, describing what one should do when one's airplane resembles a rock, not a bird. "Remove your headset,unbuckle your harness and seatbelt, and heave-ho out the door." Describing inflight emergency procedures, his voice relaxes, becomes cheery almost - all tension vanishing as he describes even the downside of what he loves doing best: flying aerobatics.

It's not actually until you clamber into his Citabria - his fabric-covered, Sitka-spruced and aluminum-tubed source of delight - that Dash comes alive. If you meet him on the tarmac, he'll be wearing those jumbo aviator shades, speaking in that clipped style of professional pilots, and you might, ungenerously, think, 'Time Builder,' or 'Airline Wannabe.' Add to that the cocky strut of a Navy jet jock (is it the chafing of the parachute straps?) and nothing in his manner would indicate anything besides boredom with his earthbound chores.

I had met Dash and his wife, Janet, in March, attracted by his exuberant exhibits over the aerobatics box just east of Borrego Valley Airport. He loves aerobatics so much that Janet had to jerk him from the cockpit of the Decathlon he was flying in order to get him to eat and take a break. I'm drawn to pilots who prefer flying to food and rest - I want to fly with guys who can still recall their first plastic, P-38, or their very first flight - pilots who get tongue-tied when describing the glory of a sunset over Mt. Palomar, or the crystalline clearness of a San Diego sky after a scrubbing - like Dash.

So, contemplating a growling stomach on a Monday morning at Montgomery Field, I sat across from Dash and asked if one should eat breakfast before aerobatics. "Sure," he says, cramming his mouth full of creamcheesy bagel, "If you have a healthy breakfast - not the greasy slider special down at the local airport cafe - you should be okay. Bananas are good, plain bread, cereal.

"A lot of people will show up and they haven't eaten because they've heard horror stories. But, what happens is that [by not eating] they get their blood sugar low and they're dizzy before they [climb inside] the airplane; and, while I don't think it's something that you'll get really ill about, it is somewhat physically demanding if you haven't done it before."

About aerobatics preferences, he says, "The easiest gauge I've found is just to ask, 'Do you like roller coasters?' If they say, 'I love roller coasters,' then they love aerobatics. If they say, 'Roller coasters are okay, but, not for too long' ... we'll go out and do a few aerobatics maneuvers and usually that's thrill enough for them. The rest of the time we'll spend doing easy, swooping maneuvers, to give them a feel like they're flying ... because, to me, that's what flying is all about - three dimensional movement. And, whether it's done in a coaster-like, exciting manner - real tight rolls, or a hammerhead followed by linked maneuvers - or just big old easy loops and wing overs ... it just depends on what the person wants. When I'm up by myself, I can do it all I want, but I have to keep in mind that we're running a service here." If you're aerobatically inclined and your stomach is as queasy as mine, Dash offers candied ginger, which has a settling affect - and gives your mouth something to do when the g's are doing their best to pry it open, prior to launch.

Dash has been a full time, professional, free-lance flight instructor since about the time he got out of the Navy, and it was on his first cruise on the carrier Carl Vincent, where he acquired the nickname. He was born Dave Parish-Whittaker, but, when his skipper saw the breadth of his hyphenated last name, he said, 'We're going to call you Dash'. Roger that, Sir.

He grew up in St. Charles, Illinois, near Chicago, building, "Plastic models like every other American kid. I talked my parents into buying me one U-Control for Christmas, which I promptly smashed into the ground." He then became, "Yet another listless teenager," when he was told at age 13, that his 20/50 eyesight precluded a flying career, "Which is the biggest myth in the world," he says, testily. "I always get irritated when some parent tells me on a ride that, 'Oh, my kid loves flying, but he can't be a pilot cause he doesn't have 20/20 eyesight'."

In ROTC, he learned that he could join up without 20/20 vision, so, after college, he reported to Naval Flight Officer Training at Pensacola, FL. Along with learning S-3 Vikings, he acquired a civilian license and developed his love for aerobatics. On his first flight in a T-34 trainer, his instructor gave him a taste and he was hooked - he bought the Citabria two years ago, got a check ride, and has been at it ever since, flying in SoCal aerobatics competition in the Sportsman category. The Citabria limits his advanced aerobatics ambition, so he and a couple of partners are buying, "A Pitts, and then, hopefully, we'll be able to move up to the categories that require sustained inverted flying, snap rolls, all that junk."

He and Janet, a musician and composer of local note, began Taildragger Adventures in February '94. "To be a career flight instructor is difficult," he says, "Because there aren't a lot of role models out there." Considering the goals of most instructors, Dash's ambition is unique. "I'd like to continue instructing and giving rides," he says, "And just pursuing flying as a career. I prefer sport aviation: 'flying' - not driving a bus through the air. I'd gotten my share of sitting in the right seat," he says, "Holding somebody's check list, flying from TACAN station to TACAN station, straight and level. There's a lot of challenges posed in that kind of flying, but it's not what interests me at this stage of my life."