My co-pilot is Giovanni — from eet-ta-lee. With the gesticulation and dialect I sometimes have to glance over and make sure I’m not sitting next to Father Vesputechi. He just returned from Turin where he visited the folks. Momma works in a FIAT engine plant. Mamma would like to live in America. Giovanni is torn between old family and new American lifestyle. His American wife has been tagging along with us this weekend and last night after the passengers had been discharged we invited her to observe as we remote parked the aircraft for the night. This was Giovanni’s moment of fame and glory he proudly reached up to depress the START switch and whereas the mighty jet engines normally roar to life, ours just whirred, spewed smoke, and then konked out. So much for trying to make an impression on the lady! Giovannni looked at me imploringly as if he was not doing something right (or wrong). He figured that his distraction had caused him to ‘screw the pooch’ and that I would be blurting out a reason(his) for the failure. Luckily it had been, and we correctly deduced, one of those rare system failures. An embarrassing moment. Don’t tell Momma.