A drop in damage as aircraft bird strike reports climb, FAA data show

Moments after United Flight 1738 took off from O’Hare International Airport on the clear morning of Thursday, June 1, passenger Drew Tewksbury heard a thud. The plane tilted left, then leveled out.

Tewksbury, 48, an insurance executive from Chagrin Falls, Ohio, said the plane’s right engine started making the sound of a car driving down a highway with a flat tire.

“Within 30 seconds, someone in the back said, ‘Hey, there’s flames coming out’,” he said.

Bound for Miami, the twin-engine Boeing 737-900 suffered a bird strike. According to air traffic control recordings, pilots said the plane struck a flock of geese.

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Video: Heineken buys Lagunitas

For my mobile web video course, where we dive deep into Adobe Premiere, I’m learning the art of the social-media style video. The course is taught by Ivan Meyers.

Here, a short business reporting video about Heineken buying Lagunitas on May 4, 2017. Full news story here.

Why would you do that to yourself?

On Saturday, I spent 8 hours riding a 126-mile loop around Paul Ryan’s hometown of Janesville, Wisconsin. It wasn’t a race. It wasn’t a charity ride. It was pain management.

The Evansville Classic 200K was my first randonneuring brevet. It was one hell of a—

Wait, what?

What are those words?

Rollout for the Evansville Classic.

Rollout for the Evansville Classic.

Randonneuring. Brevet. I don’t know that I fully understand it. But I know it involves riding for hundreds of miles, racing against the clock (not other people), and accepting no outside help or support. You have a time limit to complete the ride, and you must check in at “controls” along the way to prove you’re not off-course, and to make sure your pacing is OK. Someone at the control signs your cue card, and off you go.

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Day 27: One large pizza? Nah, get two.

7/11/15: 63 miles, Farmington, Mo., to Ellington, Mo.

First of several tough days ahead. We didn’t bolt from Farmington right away as we decided to wait for Trans AM Cyclery to open so John could get a new tire and some spokes.

From Farmington, the route snaked along U.S. Bike Route 76 into the Ozarks proper. Lots of hills, lots of traffic. We got honked at and flipped off by an Orca-fat woman on a Harley, which we henceforth took as the token emblem of southern Missouri.

A fairly uneventful day on the bike aside from the middle fingers, loud horns and coal rollin’ pickup trucks:

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Day 26: Proper Popeye sendoff from Illinois

7/10/15: 47 miles, Chester, Ill., to Farmington, Mo.

We set a new record for waking up late today. We didn’t get out of the bike shack behind the Eagles lodge until about 12:30 p.m. Sure, you could say we, uh, went to bed late. Or we had a few too many drinks that we paid for or didn’t. To be fair, we were inside of a dark little shack with an air conditioner that cranked all night (or morning).

I helped John true his wheel and adjust his brakes as my coffee cooled. Once we were ready to go, it was almost 1 p.m. and into the high 80s. That the city of Chester was under a boil alert because of the recent flooding didn’t help, either, because we had no more water. The bar wasn’t open until 3. Our first stop, then, was a Casey’s gas station to get some water and Gatorades.

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