“There’s a science to prevention,” said Perdue. “[The idea of] stopping things from happening before there’s a response – that’s what got me excited.”
Perdue works as a prevention officer at Coast Guard Sector Miami in the inspections branch. There, he trains Sector personnel in both handling pollution cases and conducting facilities inspections. During last year’s huge hurricane operation, Perdue put his job on hold for a few days. He became the Coast Guard liaison for the Palm Beach County emergency operations center while the state of Florida rode out Hurricane Irma.
“I can fly almost anything,” said Perdue, “but it’s great to go [to Sector Miami] and do something completely different.”
“You’re only a thousand feet above the country, going 30 miles an hour,” said Perdue. “You’ll never see it all.”
When a friend of his told him about a rare opening for a Goodyear blimp pilot, Perdue threw himself into the training, and after a year of training, he added a final rating to his pilot’s license: commercial LTA, or “lighter-than-air.” Today, he is one of the four pilots who fly the 246-foot Wingfoot One, based in Pompano Beach, Florida. The semi-rigid Zeppelin airship has the rare tail number N1A, a continued homage to the company’s existence since the early days of flight.
“I’m a very special car tire salesman,” Perdue said, laughing. His nonchalance belies the difficulties of such a prestigious job. A blimp pilot can be in the seat for more than a dozen hours with no rest, and there’s no autopilot. He needs to be constantly aware of the strength of the wind on a light, bulky airship, the effects of the temperature on the helium, and the weight of rainwater that soaks the external fabric.
Perdue credits his success, in large part, to the support from his wife of more than 25 years; the two were high school sweethearts. He said, “She’s been my cheerleader my whole life. Whatever I wanted to do, she said, ‘We’ll find a way to do it.’ She knows I need to satisfy my need to learn.”
When he flies, his eyes rove the skyline as his brain calculates the science of flight, and satellite radio fills the tiny, 12-person cabin. The view is gorgeous during the day, and it holds an altogether different and equal beauty at night.
“You’re only a thousand feet above the country, going 30 miles an hour,” said Perdue. “You’ll never see it all.”
That’s exciting for a guy who loves a challenge – trying to see it all. He’s flown over so many types of events, every type of sport from college basketball to Nascar, from the PGA to the NFL to the NBA.
“The funny thing is that I’m not a big sports guy,” said Perdue. “I pray for overtime so I can fly more.”