I read a book once about the birth of the air mail service, and the dangers connected with it. One story dealt with a guy with a sack of mail that needed to go I don't remember where. He got caught up in a nasty storm, and could see nothing past the end of his nose. He new that eventually he was going to run out of fuel, and all he could was fly it til it quit. He started a slow descent, hoping for the best, and praying he would see an obstruction in time. When the plane quit, he just continued his descent til the wheels touched the ground. He killed the power and drug it to a stop, thanking whoever was responsible that he did not hit anything. He climbed out of the plane, started around the nose, and ran into a wall. There was one off his left wing tip and his right. He crawled back in the plane and slept til morning. When he woke up, and the weather cleared, he discoverd he had landed in an open top silo. Years ago, I think in the Barstow, Calif area, a guy was propping his plane. He had no blocks, the brakes were on, sort of, and his throttle was set way too high. Anyway, he yanked the plane's crank, the engine started, and he barely mamaged to get out of the way. The plane taxied across the runway, and dis-appeared over some low hills. They grabbed another plane and took off, following the last known heading of the plane. They found it, fifty or sixty miles away, parked in a smooth river bed. It had run out of fuel, and made a perfect wheels down landing. Another case of going in smelling like fecal matter, and coming out smelling like a rose. Next will be Monte and his Bamboo Bomber.