jumperconway

Crossfire 1 or 2? I am about your weght(w/lead ) I went from a crossfire 1-99 About 1.85 to a Xaos 21-85 then to a 27-79. At those wing loadings they are quite easy to harness turn even being less eliptical than the Crossfire! I have also added more lead to get to about 2.4/1 on the 79.

My Xaos 21-88 packed a little smaller than my Crossfire 99. My Xaos 27-79 packs bigger!

no i don't think that he implied that. Maybe you'd like to hear about something other than idiot Reservists and naked Iraqis. Maybe you'd like to hear about a real American, somebody who honored the uniform he wears.

Maybe you'd like to hear about something other than idiot Reservists and naked Iraqis. Maybe you'd like to hear about a real American, somebody who honored the uniform he wears. Meet Brian Chontosh. Churchville-Chili Central School class of 1991. Proud graduate of the Rochester Institute of Technology. Husband and about-to-be father. First lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps. And a genuine hero. The secretary of the Navy said so yesterday. At 29 Palms in California Brian Chontosh was presented with the Navy Cross, the second highest award for combat bravery the United States can bestow. That's a big deal. But you won't see it on the network news tonight, and all you read in Brian's hometown newspaper was two paragraphs of nothing. Instead, it was more blather about some mental defective MPs who acted like animals. The odd fact about the American media in this war is that it's not covering the American military. The most plugged-in nation in the world is receiving virtually no true information about what its warriors are doing. Oh, sure, there's a body count. We know how many Americans have fallen. And we see those same casket pictures day in and day out. And we're almost on a first-name basis with the pukes who abused the Iraqi prisoners. And we know all about improvised explosive devices and how we lost Fallujah and what Arab public-opinion polls say about us and how the world hates us. We get a non-stop feed of gloom and doom. But we don't hear about the heroes. The incredibly brave GIs who honorably do their duty. The ones our grandparents would have carried on their shoulders down Fifth Avenue. The ones we completely ignore. Like Brian Chontosh. It was a year ago on the march into Baghdad. Brian Chontosh was a platoon leader rolling up Highway 1 in a humvee. When all hell broke loose. Ambush city. The young Marines were being cut to ribbons. Mortars, machine guns, rocket propelled grenades. And the id out of Churchville was in charge. It was do or die and it was up to him. So he moved to the side of his column, looking for a way to lead his men to safety. As he tried to poke a hole through the Iraqi line his humvee came under direct enemy machine gun fire. It was fish in a barrel and the Marines were the fish. And Brian Chontosh gave the order to attack. He told his driver to floor the humvee directly at the machine gun emplacement that was firing at them. And he had the guy on top with the .50 cal unload on them. Within moments there were Iraqis slumped across the machine gun and Chontosh was still advancing, ordering his driver now to take the humvee directly into the Iraqi trench that was attacking his Marines. Over into the battlement the humvee went and out the door Brian Chontosh bailed, carrying an M16 and a Beretta and 228 years of Marine Corps pride. And he ran down the trench. With its mortars and riflemen, machineguns and grenadiers. And he killed them all. He fought with the M16 until he was out of ammo. Then he fought with the Beretta until it was out of ammo. Then he picked up a dead man's AK47 and fought with that until it was out of ammo. Then he picked up another dead man's AK47 and fought with that until it was out of ammo. At one point he even fired a discarded Iraqi RPG into an enemy cluster, sending attackers flying with its grenade explosion. When he was done Brian Chontosh had cleared 200 yards of entrenched Iraqis from his platoon's flank. He had killed more than 20 and wounded at least as many more. But that's probably not how he would tell it. He would probably merely say that his Marines were in trouble, and he got them out of trouble. Hoo-ah, and drive on. "By his outstanding display of decisive leadership, unlimited courage in the face of heavy enemy fire, and utmost devotion to duty, 1st Lt. Chontosh reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service." That's what the citation says. And that's what nobody will hear. That's what doesn't seem to be making the evening news. Accounts of American valor are dismissed by the press as propaganda, yet accounts of American difficulties are heralded as objectivity. It makes you wonder if the role of the media is to inform, or to depress - to report or to deride. To tell the truth, or to feed us lies. But I guess it doesn't matter. We're going to turn out all right. As long as men like Brian Chontosh wear our uniform. - by Bob Lonsberry © 2004

Sid and Barney head out for their usual 9 holes. Sid says to Barney, "Let's say we make the time worth the while, at least for one of us, and spot $5 on the lowest score for the day." Barney agrees and they enjoy a great game. After the 8th hole, Barney is ahead by 1 stroke, but cuts his ball into the rough on the 9th. "Help me find my ball, you look over there," he says to Sid. After 5 minutes, neither has had any luck, and since a lost ball carries a four-stroke penalty, Barney pulls a ball from his pocket and tosses it to the ground. "I've found my ball!" he announces triumphantly. Sid looks at him forlornly. "After all the years we've been friends, you'd cheat me on golf for a measly five bucks?" "What do you mean cheat? I found my ball sitting right here!" Barney says indignantly. "And a liar, too!" Sid says with amazement. "I'll have you know I've been standing on your ball for the last five minutes!"

Sorry to say but if she started fooling around almost immediately, then the relationship was on the brink to begin with. Since returning to skydiving about 31/2 years ago, I never dated until my current s/o who's been jumping for almost 30 yrs off and on and has about 700 more jumps than myself! People that have never experienced it usually just don't get it and that is one of the reasons we bond together. When I played golf before I would have girlfriends but if they didn't appreciate golf it wouldn't last because I would be at the country club all weekend. Back then golf was my passion now it's skydiving. You may understand better after you start jumping. Sorry.

speaking from a UI engineer point of view, thats actually a wrong statement once you get used to the "position" of the needle, you'll get the indication quicker from the analog one, same as in car's speedometers or wrist watches. but hey, maybe you're special... OK, I am special! I don't know what a UI engineer is but I disagree. I can be in the middle of a track and look down and just roll my wrist and see where I am without hardly changing my track. To read an analog, I would have to put it in front of me. Now if they put a flourescent needle that stood out better I might agree. O

Gemini showed me the newspaper article with a big picture of it. Pretty impressive to get that kind of coverage! Nice work as usual Josh!

Why recommend a digital altimeter for a beginner? Michael easy, in a split second they know their altitude instead of trying to read an analog alti. It was the first piece I bought because I had trouble reading the alti 2 under the stress of the early jumps! I still use it but usually only look at it in the plane or under a mal. Then again I was definetly an altitude unaware student.

Digitude Oxygn A-3 helmet Pro-Track

yeaha!

rather then go jump with some old tired guy that's done 50 billion skydives and seen it all before. Maybe that's the attitude that keeps the old tired guy that's done 50 billion skydives and seen it all before from wanting to try and pass on his wealth of knowledge to someone that doesn't want to listen!

Sorry Mathew, two weeks I'll be in San Marcos. Ask Rich Parish, Mike Snowden, Rich Delgado or Doc Sherrie! They will all be more than happy or you can wait until the following weekend. All pouring will have to wait until Sky Fest weekend with Bill Newell(head of the Bob Buquor Memorial) in attendance.

Hello Don, I'm pretty sure I've met you when I've been at SDH but not sure. I was organizing Sat. and yesterday at Spaceland. I pulled a newbie aside and got a three point SCR and I made her prove she could dive out and find me and come to me and dock. Noone snatched her right out of the Otter! We only had 8 jumpers, several low timers. She wanted to pull by 4500' so I had to wave her off at 5000' just after completing the third point. The look on her face was priceless. If I hadn't waved her off she would have stayed with us to 4000'! Diane doe's almost all 2ways with her partner so I hadn't asked in the past but he wasn't there at the time. She has a good attitude and listens.VERY IMPORTANT! As long as the people jumping with me aren't being dangerous, they listen to what I tell them and try their newbie best, they keep jumping. I enjoy helping wheather it's in the packing room, at the mock-up or jumping with them if they try hard and have the right attitude. Maybe something to think about.

Alan oh THAT'S SCARY! J/K tell him Spaceland miss's him.... Conway

Heh, I'm a 23 handycapper, now THAT'S funny

A man, while playing on the front nine of a complicated golf course, became confused as to where he was on the course. Looking around, he saw a lady playing ahead of him. He walked up to her, explained his confusion and asked her if she knew what hole he was playing. "I'm on the 7th hole," she replied, "and you are a hole behind me. So you must be on the 6th hole." He thanked her and went back to his golf. On the back nine, the same thing happened and he approached her again with the same request. "I'm on number 14, and you're still a hole behind, so you must be on the 13th hole". Once again he thanked her and returned to his play. He finished his round and went to the clubhouse where he saw the same lady sitting at the end of the bar. He asked the bartender if he knew the lady. The bartender said that she was a sales lady and played the course often. He approached her and said, "Let me buy you a drink in appreciation for your help. I understand that you're in the sales profession. I'm in sales also. What do you sell?" "I'll tell you, but you're going to laugh," she replied. "No, I won't." "Well, if you must know," she answered, "I work for Tampax." With that, he laughed so hard he almost fell off the bar stool. "See," she said. "I knew you'd laugh!" "That's not what I'm laughing at," he replied, "I'm a salesman for Preparation H, so I'm still a hole behind you."

Glad I didn't book that flight from H-Town!

Anybody afraid of flying? Only in sardine can Cessnas

Deep blue skies my brother. Fly forever free. Condolences to his family and friends.

I put other because I think I broke my left big toe on two different occasions, 1 landing with 1 brakeline stuck with a 2.3+ wing loading and the other in the middle of a 4way meet and just kept jumping

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Michele!!!!!!!! Remember, it beats the alternative!!

XP Only

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed Leaning against the wall, slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. There spreads out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered, trembling hand made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. "Stay out of those," she said, "they are for the funeral!"

Congrat's Noni!