Chapter 8JIM PUSHED HARD ON both foot brakes, holding the plane stationary at the end of the runway as he brought the engine rpms up. As he lifted his feet, the 400-horsepower twin-engine leapt forward and picked up speed quickly. The small rural airport runway was barely long enough for the Piper Seneca’s take off. Once the run was started, there could be no errors, either mechanical or human. Jim observed the other end of the runway as it rapidly approached. Power lines hung in a deadly snare, only feet from the end.
He looked straight ahead, concentrating on centering the low-wing plane between the unforgiving snowbanks, mere inches from his wingtips. Small ice patches glistened on the blacktop. His eyes flicked at the gauges. Both manifold pressures held. He had passed the point of no
