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The Adventures of Wrong-Way Corrigan

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The main gas tank developed a leak toward the end of the trip, and Corrigan wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it nonstop after all. But he was determined to keep flying until the gas ran out. He opened the cabin windows and stuck his head out–partly to keep awake and partly to avoid the fumes.

By that time he was down to the last tank of fuel, and he could only guess how much was left in it. But he kept going. He was able to catch a tailwind near Philadelphia, and by sundown, he made it to New York and landed at Roosevelt Field. He had only four gallons of fuel left when he touched down.

After Corrigan looked over the plane, he decided not to do anything about the gas leak, since it would have taken him more than a week’s work to remove the tank and make the repairs. He was eager to get going on his dream flight. His flight plan was filed–New York to California, just as his license said. And the only map he had was of the United States. On July 16 he flew to Floyd Bennett Field and filled his tanks with gasoline. At 4 o’clock the next morning, he was ready to go.

Corrigan started the plane himself on July 17 and then took out a flashlight to look at the engine and make sure it was running OK. It looked and sounded good, so he climbed into Sunshine and took off, heading east on an east­west runway.

The plane was so weighed down with fuel that it traveled 3,200 feet down the runway before leaving the ground. When it passed the eastern edge of the airfield, it was only 50 feet above the ground. Not long after that, it disappeared into the fog, heading east.

Corrigan had been flying east for 10 hours when his feet suddenly felt cold. The leak in the main gas tank had gotten worse, and gasoline was running all over his shoes and onto the floor of the cockpit. He was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean at that point–and he was losing fuel by the minute.

He flew on through the darkness. Time was not on his side, and the leak was getting worse. Before long, there was gasoline an inch deep on the cockpit floor. Just losing the gas was bad enough, but Corrigan was worried that it would leak out near the exhaust pipe–and he was well aware that he had no chance of surviving if that happened.

He knew he had to do something about the leak, but he did not have much to work with. He had only brought a screwdriver with him. With it, he punched a hole in the floor. The gasoline trickled out–on the side opposite the exhaust pipe. He was still losing fuel, but at least the plane was not likely to explode.

Although it was impossible for him to fix the leak, Corrigan kept trying to think of some way to compensate for it. The problem had not been nearly this bad on his cross-country flight, and he had just barely made it to New York. And on this trip there was no place to land if his gas ran out.

He had planned to conserve fuel by running the engine slowly, but now he realized that that would only give the fuel more time to leak out. He decided to run the engine fast instead, using the precious gasoline while he had it. He boosted his rpms from 1,600 to 1,900, then maintained that speed for the rest of the trip.

Corrigan flew straight ahead, hoping he would have enough fuel to reach land. When he saw a fishing boat, he went down close to the water and flew past it. Corrigan realized it was unlikely that such a small boat would be very far from shore. It looked like he was going to make it, and he opened a package of fig bars to celebrate.

He had finished the cookies and started on a chocolate bar when land came into sight. Sometime later, he recalled, ‘I noticed some nice green hills.’ It was not long before he reached Baldonnel Airport, in Dublin, landing on July 18.

Corrigan had achieved his dream, but he was not sure how much it was going cost him. He had broken the rules, after all–and he realized that how he played things from here on out would probably determine how he was going to spend the next few years.

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