Flying Lessons

How I Became an Aviator

I've wanted to fly as long as I can remember. When I was a boy, I had dozens of toy airplanes, and as I grew older, I built an entire fleet of plastic models and a few balsa flying models. The remains of my crashed Ringmaster U-Control airplane are still in my garage - all that survived the final blow were the nose, the engine, and the fuel tank. (If you must know, the fuel tank came loose at the top of a loop. The airplane fell inward nose down, loosening the contol wires. Then, horror of horrors, the engine restarted! I ran like hell to tighten the wires, but the airplane was faster - it scattered parts like confetti when it hit.)

Through all this, I never learned to fly real airplanes because it just cost too much. In addition, I somehow got the idea that anyone who needed glasses couldn't get a pilot's license. I learned later that this is true for the military, but not for general aviation.

In 1985 a friend of mine got his pilot's license and bought a Piper Vagabond 2-seat airplane. He took me up one afternoon, and it reawakened the old dream of learning to fly. This time there was a difference: I had a decent job with a decent income. I could afford this!

It took me another five years to make time to take lessons, but finally, in September, 1990, I took my first flying lesson. My friend had convinced me that I should take lessons at a certain airport where I could learn to fly in a Piper Cub. The Cub is a taildragger, which means that the third wheel is in the back of the airplane, rather than up front like most modern airplanes. Flying taildraggers requires more skill than flying tricycle-gear airplanes, so I would come out of it a better pilot.

Well, that was fine in theory, but there was one hitch. I didn't fit in the Cub! I'm about 6 feet 2 inches, and my head was jammed right against the headliner. The instructor was afraid I'd put my head through it on the first rough landing. So I started my lessons in a Cessna 150.

I came to really appreciate that 150. In fact, about half way through my training, I bought my own: a 1965 Cessna 150E. Owning my own airplane made it a lot easier to practice. Once my instructor signed me off to make local solo flights, I was able to log a lot of hours, mostly practicing takeoffs and landings.

Thirteen months and one day after my first lesson, I took my checkride, and returned home with the cherished prize in my wallet: my private pilot's license. For the next ten years I flew frequently, almost every weekend if the weather was good.

I no longer fly regularly. Since I took up bicycling again I no longer have much time for flying, and since 9/11 airspace issues have taken a lot of the fun out of it. I sold my Cessna three months after 9/11.

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