Since I posted about a flight I took recently, I have had many people ask questions, make comments, or express concern about my terrible habits of flying around the sky at 120 mph. Folks, I am here to set the record straight and dispel any myths. Before so doing, I claim no expertise other than 100+ flight hours not to mention the hundreds of hours spent in book learning and "ground flying." The other thing I wish to make very plain is that I, in no way, intend to make light of very strong feelings that some may have or experiences others have gone through.
I started flying long before I could drive and shortly after I learned to ride a bike. The first flight I remember taking was in a Hughes 500 helicopter. I can still remember with absolute clarity my dad buckling me in the back, the sound that particular helicopter makea when first starting, and (weird I know) the smell of the interior of the aircraft. I do not remember the flight itself but
I do remember being hooked.
Fast forward a few years, my parents had a friend who owned a Cessna Stationair. This aircraft was made for holding our family and our pilot. I remember feeling like the coolest cat in the world standing around that aircraft getting ready to fly to my grandparents house in Taylor, AZ. I do not remember anything else about that flight.
Nothing more happened from that time until I was married. During high school, my interests were music, girls, and friends (in that order.) I still would run outside when I heard an aircraft pass overhead just to watch. It got the point where I could tell the difference in helicopters just from the engine noise but made no attempt to get any type of training.
Not long after Julie and I married, I somehow convinced her to let me take a discovery flight. For those who do not know, a discovery flight is a short flight taken with an instructor. During that flight, you are allowed to take the controls for take off, cruise, and part off the landing. Well, Julie got to go with me. She sat in the back while the instructor walked me through the procedure for taxi and take off. When I pushed the throttle forward and all 180 HP of that engine came to life, um....can you say YEE-HAW!! It was an afternoon flight in the late spring so the air was somewhat turbulent but the view was amazing. Being able to look at Four Peaks straight in the eye or looking down at Saguaro Lake at the tiny ant-like boat skimming across its surface was a drug strong enough to hook anybody. Like all things though, it had to come to an end. As we pointed to nose back to Falcon Field, the instructor got the proper clearance from Air Traffic Control and we set up for the landing. To my surprise (and MUCH to the surprise of my backseated wife) the instructor allowed me to land the aircraft. The instructor said that, all kidding aside, I was a natural born pilot.
On approach into Falcon Field
Well, from that point on, there was no turning back. I convinced my sweet wife (more like begged) to allow me to get my Private Pilot certificate. I still remember my first solo flight. I remember only having 13 hours total time in the aircraft. My instructor (who was the best instructor ever. Thank you Jess!) and I went up in the traffic pattern around Falcon Field. We did a few touch-and-go's, then she instructed me to taxi the plane into parking.
When we arrived, Jess got out, gave me a few more words of encouragement and shut the door. I was on my own. Just me, the airplane, and 4 very nervous people (Jess, Julie, Mom, and Grandpa) standing on the ground watching my every move. I was too excited to be nervous, so I got clearance and proceeded to take-off by myself. No safety net instructor, just me and the aircraft (which was a Piper Warrior by the way. N8082K to be precise.) My job was to fly around the airport and bring the plane in for 3 touch-and-go's. Not to brag or anything, but I greased those landings. It was the most awesome, liberating experience I've had. I was now legal to pilot an airplane by myself. Look Mom, no instructor!
Alana asleep in the back of N141AV en route to Ryan Airfield, Tucson
There have been many experiences since then. I have since obtained my Private certificate for both single and multi engine aircraft. It just means I can land a twin engine aircraft using only one engine. That is a lot of stress but a lot of fun too. I am in the process of getting caught up on the book learning so I can fly with only instrument references. All it means is I can fly in zero visibility conditions safely.
Flying a twin engine aircraft with one operating engine...and smiling
These ramblings do have a point. As I mentioned, many have expressed to me their concerns about me flying or flying in general. Some of these are real and genuine. About a year ago, a couple in our neighborhood were involved in and survived a horrific plane crash. It was a small plane like what I fly. It changed not only their lives but the lives of all of us in this area, myself included. I must admit, I stopped flying for 11 months. Even though it was something I love doing, I was forced to re-examine why I was doing it and what the consequences might be.
Through this tragedy, I learned something. While I will never stop flying as long as I am physically able, my mindset is different when I am in the cockpit. I concentrate a little bit more and try to be just a little bit more diligent in my piloting duties.
I also learned that accidents happen. Sometimes they can't be explained. Sometimes they put fear into hearts. Sometimes they are used to justify either unfounded concerns or serve to multiply a fear we have hidden away and do not want to face.
Fact of the matter is, no matter what is said, flying is safer than driving. The kind of things we go through to get a pilot's certificate are astounding and nerve-racking. The preparatory things we do before a flight, during a flight, and after a flight would never be considered for any trip in the family car. Last, but not least, any trained monkey can get a driver's licence these days whereas only an elite group of people, or at least a group of people who are just a little bit crazy, can get a pilot's certificate.
And now, to get off my soapbox.
I have met a new enemy. The MRI. It is not a machine for claustrophobics like me. Even the open machine like this one that I used still make me want to hit something. If it weren't so dad gum close to your face. Oh well, at least the scan confirmed what we've known all along. Showed nothing. No activity whatsoever.
I was able to drive home but immediately upon getting through the door, I told Julie to stop her lessons and take me to the hospital. I got my very first CT scan. Personally, I hoping for something a little more glamorous but it got the job done. Turns out, I had a concussion and whiplash (the fancy term they had for it was a neck sprain.)
Brig lost his battle with the Sandman.
During family prayers, Brig has started showing a small interest in participating. I asked him to fold his arms and this is what he did.
