However, he was a skilled aircraft mechanic (he helped construct Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis) and had made several modifications to his own plane, preparing it for his transatlantic flight.

Ryan Aeronautical Company operated from the airfield where Corrigan learned to fly, and hired him for their San Diego factory in 1926.

[6] Corrigan was responsible for assembling the wing and installing the fuel tanks and instrument panel of Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis.

Corrigan and his colleague Dan Burnett increased the lift of the aircraft by extending the wing 10 feet (3.0 m) longer than any previous Ryan design.

[7] Corrigan pulled the chocks from the Spirit of St Louis when Lindbergh took off from San Diego to New York to prepare for his historic flight.

When Ryan Aeronautical moved to St. Louis in October 1928, Corrigan stayed in San Diego as a mechanic for the newly formed Airtech School.

He gained his transport pilot certificate in October 1929, and started a passenger service in 1930 with his friend Steve Reich, flying between small East Coast towns.

The application was rejected; his plane was deemed unsound for a nonstop transatlantic trip, although it was certified to the lower standard for cross-country journeys.

Indeed, by 1937, after extensive modifications in the face of increasing regulation, his aircraft was refused renewal of its license because it was deemed to be too unstable for safe flight.

His autobiography expresses his exasperation with official resistance and he is widely thought to have responded by deciding that year to make an unofficial crossing.

Although he never admitted it, he apparently planned a late arrival at New York so that he could refill his tanks and leave for Ireland after airport officials had gone home from work.

Mechanical problems extended his unapproved flight to nine days, which delayed him beyond the Atlantic "safe weather window", and he returned to California.

He had repaired the engine, taking his total spent on the aircraft to about $900 (equivalent to $20,100 in 2024),[9] gained an experimental license, and obtained permission for a transcontinental flight with conditional consent for a return trip.

Upon his unannounced arrival at Floyd Bennett Field, in the midst of Howard Hughes' preparations for departure on a world tour, Corrigan decided repairing the leak would take too long if he was to meet his schedule.

This is not entirely consistent with his claim that after 10 hours, he felt his feet go cold; the cockpit floor was awash with gasoline leaking from the unrepaired tank.

He used a screwdriver to punch a hole through the cockpit floor so that the fuel would drain away on the side opposite the hot exhaust pipe, reducing the risk of a midair explosion.

The reserve gasoline tanks put together by Corrigan, left him so little room that he had to sit hunched forward with his knees cramped, and not enough window space to see the ground when landing.

[10]Aviation officials sent a 600-word telegram to list the regulations broken by his flight (in a medium that encourages brevity by charging at a rate per word).

[15] Corrigan was so excited that the organizers placed guards at the plane's wings while he was at the show and considered tethering the tail to a police car to prevent him from taking off in it.

[16] An anthology of aircraft-related mysteries published in 1995 claimed that Corrigan was elected an Honorary Member of the 'Liars Club of America' at the age of 84, and that the 'honor,' (as had so many other suggestions over the years since his transatlantic flight) had been politely but firmly refused.

In October 2019, Corrigan's Curtiss Robin was delivered to the Planes of Fame Air Museum in Chino, California, where it remains on display (although in a disassembled state).