In 1971, a plane flying over the Peruvian rainforest was hit by lightning. Sitting next to her mother on the flight, Juliane Kopecke was sucked out of the plane as soon as the lightning hit. She fell all the way to earth, two miles in all, strapped into her seat.
“The plane jumped down and went into a nosedive,” she said. “It was pitch black and people were screaming, then the deep roar of the engines filled my head completely.”
“Suddenly the noise stopped,” she went on, “and I was outside the plane. I was in a free fall, strapped to my seat and hanging head over heels. The whispering of the wind was the only noise I could hear.”
She continued the story of her experience, “I could see the canopy of the jungle spinning towards me. Then I lost consciousness and remember nothing of the impact. Later I learned the plane had broken into pieces about two miles above the ground. I woke the next day and looked up into the canopy. The first thought I had was: I survived an air crash.”
A pretty exciting and memorable story to be able to tell.
But nothing like getting behind the wheel of this Modified 1957 Porsche 356A Coupe and heading out from Fort Stockton northwest towards Pecos on Highway 285, throttle wide open.
7 responses to “A FALL FROM HEAVEN”
I’ve never ridden in a 356 or a speedster – closest I had come was a roommate’s Karmann-Ghia coupe.
Mid-late 1960s, my neighbor in NJ operated a foreign car repair shop with his partner in Long Island City, NY. Willem worked on the German cars (he had apprenticed at VW in Germany), and his partner handled the British ones. They rarely accepted Fiat, but did sometimes accept an Alfa-Romeo. A customer had blown his 911S, requiring a complete rebuild of the engine and transmission, and Willem insisted that he needed t break it in “properly”, before returning it to the owner. I mentioned that, being early October I had planned to attend the U.S. Grand Prix at Watkins Glen, driving my 1960 Valiant V-200 the 275 miles straight through after work Friday and returning late Sunday. Willem had a better idea so we jumped into the Porsche 911S – he drove – and hit speeds I was sure would have us both taking up residency under a local jail. I was not unaccustomed to speed, having some SCCA driving experience in my TR-3, my ’52 XK-120MC and Alfa-Romeo Giulietta Spider Veloce —
But this 4-wheeled mind-blower of a rocket was a whole ‘nother story. Today’s modern Interstates didn’t exist and the trip was via the Garden State Parkway, New York State Thruway, some local roads through Tuxedo, NY (of Glenn Miller fame), and the old NY-17 Quickway through Monticello and the Borscht Belt and Binghamton, where the sun rarely shines. Really pushing, my Valiant might have done the trip in 5-6 hours. We made it in the 911 somewhere around a bit over 3 hours with one quick stop for gas, sandwiches, beer and cigarettes. the trip home was only a bit more relaxed (if you could call it that), and I never did ride with him again.
In my younger days I did parachute jump and skydive in South Jersey. About6 the same time, my dad was working toward his pilot’s license. His thoughts? – There is no reason to jump out of a perfectly good aircraft!
Any of you contemplating living out a portion of the Capitán’s tale, pay heed:
Chief Martin operates a pretty mean and ruthless speed trap on 285.
Ask me how I know.
Parachute? I don’t need no stinkin’ PARACHUTE!!!
During the late ‘50s and most of the ‘60s, my math-teacher dad worked a summer job to supplement his Social Security. He was a ticket-seller for the Isaac Walton League – which operated a campground and beach at a beautiful little lake in Southern Ohio. He loved spending his days at the edge of the forest, chatting with the folks who paid their small fees to spend time at the lake. One of those couples drove a Porsche 356 coupe. Dad would always tell his car-crazy son when they visited because he loved the sound the little German car made as it motored through the trees. I, of course, only knew what I’d read about the marque.
Then, somewhere around 1963, the brother of a lady who lived in our neighborhood bought a new 356 coupe. Although he never offered any of the local kids a ride, he did let us open the doors and engine cover. I was awed by the quality of its materials, as well as the combination of precision assembly and the obvious level of engineering. I instantly had a new favorite car!
To date, I still haven’t owned a Porsche; but I’ve test-driven a couple of used examples and bid on one or two on Bring-A-Trailer. Maybe the auction gods will eventually smile on me and grant me caretaker status on a 911…
Not that relevant, but I’m usually a stickler for detail… The 356 at the lake must have been a cabriolet. Looking back, I have a somewhat foggy memory of Dad telling me that the couple sometimes put down the top when they were stopped at his toll booth…
It’s funny the memories certain cars can spark from decades ago. Thanks for sharing a few of yours. Every car is a story.
Ouch