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Builders,
Today I spoke with the wife of one of my earliest and most illustrious supporters, Terry Bailey. I had not spoken with him in a decade, as medical issues made him drift away from flying, a passion he couldn’t resign himself to being a spectator in. His wife called to say that he had passed at age 72, four years ago.
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We spent an hour on the phone remembering good times, and a man who was a wholly unique character, a 6’5′ charming hell raiser, and craftsman of boundless energy and ideas. His life had only two throttle positions, sleeping and take off power, and the man didn’t sleep much. He was a nationally known member to the tandem wing community, and when he discovered my work with Corvairs, he instantly became a builder and supporter. He was a phenomenally good welder and fabricator, and a very free thinker, socially fearless. He was a first class story teller who could make you laugh long and hard enough asphyxiation and urination were eminent threats.
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He wasn’t yet 60 when serious cardiac problems ended his flying. I drove him to Emory in Texas where he was told his flying was over and his time was short. This would have overwhelmed most people, but Terry wasted no time moving into classic hot rods, all centered around early Hemis, 331s, 354s , and 392s. He invested the same energy as he had put into building and flying. We spoke less, but it was the kind of friendship which required no maintenance. When a gap of time went by, I guessed the diagnosis had caught up to him. Speaking with his wife today, it assuaged to the loss somewhat to know he got nearly 15 more years, and had a lot of good times, right up to the last week.
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A belated farewell and blue skies Terry, my life is far richer for having the great fortune of knowing you as a friend.
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Picture from the late 1990s, me on the left, Terry on the right, behind my Pietenpol. All four people I gave thanks for on the tail are now gone from this world, but their invaluable influence will live as long as I do.
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Never fails to produce a knot in my throat each time I see you honor a friendship, whether living or posthumously.