He was a character, Gary. Gray hair long like the hippiest hippie ever, worn in a braid. Looked at you like an eagle eyeing a rabbit, until you measured up. Not yelping when his ship went sideways was part of getting to that place of acceptance
.
Once he decided you were OK, he'd fly that 205 into the gates of hell to help you do your job.
He decided I was solidly OK when I was working as a landing spotter for him...not officially qualified or sanctioned to operate under his ship...he was to drop a load of pumps, hose, fittings, and fuel on a fire I was managing a contract falling crew on. I was there to pick up more saw mix and some saw chains for my contract cutters.
Long lining in a pallet load, supposed to disconnect by electric grapple to leave the load at touchdown...but the grapple hung in the webbing securing the load as he lifted off. The unexpected load caused the ship to peel off on a tied down tangent at the end of the 150 foot cable, headed for the 150 foot tall timber on the outer edge of the LZ. He was fighting it back upright, but loosing the battle.
I dunno how I decided what needed doing, but somehow I darted in from the edge of the LZ, pulled my flickblade, and cut the webbing away from the grapple. He chopped tippy top branches with his blades as he ascended free.
My new best friend
. There was a little splashback from some overhead pukes about me not having the quals to get under that ship when things went sideways...but that pilot kicked azz and kept the weenies off my back.
We had some interesting times, back in those days.