Above all, the ride of his life
ON the ground, Jimmy Rollison is a fish out of water. His world is an ocean of sky. After 20,000-plus flight hours, he has spent more time above Earth than on it. And he’s not done yet. I know him. I have flown with him. I’ve learned from him. And I have marveled at him. Jimmy has aviation fuel in his veins. Only when he’s screaming along at Mach 0.83, or is putzing over Lake Berryessa at 60 mph, can he relax. Course corrections are few. One came up this month: He reached 65, the max age for airline-category pilots. That includes freight haulers like FedEx, Capt. Jimmy’s MD-11 office in the sky for 34 years. Saturday, he painfully walked away from all that, and his workhorse, after his last flight and landing, Oakland to Indianapolis. Jimmy can still fly anything up to an airliner. Count on it. He’s not about to sit it out. He made his first solo flight at the Nut Tree Airport at 17.
Jimmy grew up on the family ranch near Olivas Ln. A Vaca High grad, 1963. His aviation influence was his dad, Jim. A mechanic for Transocean and, later, Flying Tigers, a freight line named after the WWII fighter group in China, dad be-came a flight engineer, then a captain for TWA. He was part of a brotherhood of smallplane drivers. On the ranch, he set aside a strip of land for a “runway.” At times, pilots would literally drop out of the sky to visit a bit, then roar off. One day, a family friend landed when only Jimmy was home. The flyer said he was off to Canada for a couple of weeks and asked Jimmy, 13, if he wanted to go. He said yes, left a note for his family on the reefer door, and they took off. He called his mom from Oregon. She said, “Have a good time.” In his 20’s, Jimmy flew with Wings West, always on the lookout for a step up. A friend said Flying Tigers, in L.A., was starting crew training sessions.
Thus became an exercise in Jimmy’s persistence. Uninvited, he showed up. No one there, but 30 nametags were. None for him. “I took them all to another room… I didn’t want to be the only one without a tag.” When class began, there was one more candidate than names. A Tigers rep asked, “Who’s not supposed to be here?” It became clear it was Jimmy. He was told to see the training official. “I need a job,” I told him. “I didn’t have a college degree.” He was ordered to get the hell out. Days later, a second class was started. Jimmy showed again. He was found out again and told to go home. He showed a third time and was sent off to see the same official. “He gave me a royal ass-chewin’,” Jim said. “He threatened to make sure I never got a flying job anywhere.” That night, Jimmy got a call at home. A Tigers V.P. was on the line. He was at the site when Jim got ejected. After asking a few questions, he said he had lost a trainee that day. He liked Jimmy’s spunk and hired him. “I flew to L.A. the next day and slept in the terminal, waiting for my class to start.”
That worked out, until it was time to reach for the next rung on the flying ladder: FedEx. That started a career that became a worldwide adventure, hauling everything from race horses to race cars, gorillas, explosives and millions of parts that make the world go ’round, not the least of which were millions of vials of COVID-19 vaccine. Coincidentally, FedEx acquired Flying Tigers Airline in 1989. Jimmy can fly anything, and the box it came in. He has owned and totally maintained classics; a British jet trainer; relics of spruce, spit, and glued by history. His and Mary Ann’s adult children, Jane and Jimmy, work at the same aircraft restoration center at the Ione Airport.
Jimmy has flown WWII warbirds and gave rides at shows all over the U.S. for Collings Foundation. FedEx contracted him to work on a formula for better flight efficiency that could save $millions in fuel, and reduce the carbon footprint. Jimmy left his own footprint: his skill set, his generosity--donut boxes for ground crews. “I’m going to miss the people,” he said. Jimmy owns a hangar, with classics, at Yolo Co. Airport. He’ll be there more now. At times, fellow pilots will drop out of the sky to visit. One might be his dad.