Post by Mahnarch on Jan 6, 2008 23:11:16 GMT -5
I've been working on this for a while, now.
I've got 'last written' dates at points, but I started around November.
It's not done, obviously, but this is what I've go so far.
Tell me if it's too 'wordy'.
I think it might be.
Also, tell me of any grammar and spelling stuff.
('Centering' and formatting got eliminated while posting. Just go with it and pretend.)
Squawk
and 'Ident'.
A Guide for 'Groundlings'.
General Aviation (GA) is the level of flying that doesn't require a 5 mile stretch of runway nor burn more cash in fuel just taxiing to parking than you earn in a year.
General Aviation can be anything from buzzing your cornfield in a home made UltraLight that you built in your two stall garage, to a 4 seat Cessna Skyhawk that you use to take family and friends on a day trip to find that elusive '$100 Hamburger', to a 16 passenger Leer-jet that your boss has you fly him and his mistress down to the Bahamas in for for the weekend.
GA also includes helicopters for work and fun, as well as seaplanes for the more secluded spots.
Basically, anything with less than 4 engines tied to it's wings and weighs less than a quarter million pounds can be concidered a GA aircraft but, I'm getting ahead of myself, already.
We'll stick to the basics for beginners in the book
GA is a staple of freedom in the U.S. A freedom that allows a single person to reach for the stars and obtain them - for the most part.
When most people think of Private Pilots they believe that only Doctors and Lawyers can afford to 'buy and fly' but, that's not the case.
Everyone from your local plumber, carpenter, school nurse, or even a preacher can afford and earn atleast a 'Private Certificate' (in aviation your license is called a 'certificate', or 'ticket'. Add-ons are called 'ratings' - similar to a motorcycle 'endorsement'.)
I was a mere 24 year old auto technician in a small town making less than 30 large a year from a cheapskate, dutch business owner when I started. If I can do it with that little bit, anyone can. Trust me.
In this book I plan to knock the rust off the wings of former pilots and, perhaps, teach a few non-flyers all about what it takes to get their wings.
Perhaps, even, by the end of this book there will be fewer non-flyers (or, 'groundlings') in the world.
You will also note that if anything 'technical' comes up, I will explain them as I go.
I also spread humor about, evenly, "with a large butter knife" when I write - or so I'm told - so things shouldn't get boring.
At least, I hope not.
About the Author
The year was 1977 and the world welcomed a new-born, and rather handsome, baby boy.
From that day forward I would wrench his neck skyward when a small plane would pass over. The stacking sound of the propellor as it neared and the changing buzz as it passed overhead. It was a natural, if not short lived, 'high' for me and I was always looking forward to my next 'fix'.
Living near an airport during my teen years did help quench my thirst at times.
When I was 18 I signed up for a 'Discovery Flight' (a short, inexpensive flight to hook you into flying becoming a student) with the local college in my hometown.
I loved the flight but, the attitude of the instructor seemed more towards the "I've got a Porsche to pay for kid. Are you going to sign up, or what?"
Again, at 18 the choice wasn't really mine, anyway. I was still flipping burgers down at the local joint and it took me 3 weeks just to save up for that short hour in the air (back then - 25 whoppin' dollars..heh).
Alas, I put my dream on hold due to expense and a lack of know-how.
However, the month of April, 2001 was just finishing up when a regular customer, Bill, came into the auto repair garage that I worked in and announced that he'd just earned his CFI (Certified Flight Instructor ) rating.
My birthday was right around the corner (May 3, to be exact ) and I decided that I'd love to give myself the ultimate gift, since, by then, I was self-sufficient and living on my own at the ripe old age of 24.
My first flight with Bill was a ton better than my last.
Bill, being new to the CFI market, was very thorough - showing me everything from the ground up, perhaps in an all too eager to teach manner.
That day is still crystal clear in my memory, like it happened yesterday.
Unlike the previous intructor, Bill showed me every little thing that's involved with the inner workings of an airplane (which wasn't too complex for me, concidering my auto repair background), airport procedures and flight dynamics (which were a little confusing at first).
We sat in and around that airplane for atleast two and half hours before we even hit the ignition.
By that time I was familiar with the sweet smell of an ageing Cessna. The 100 Low Lead fuel. The feel of the cold aluminum paneling. The distinct aroma of 'vomit-resistant, pleather upholstery...
After the 'preflight' (gas, oil, wings attached?, etc.) we settled in.
Bill had me start the engine while reciting some odd language (a language I'm all too familiar with, now) and we did a 'Run Up' (rev the engine a little to test running conditions and flight control surfaces [rudder, ailerons and elevators]).
Then, Bill called out on the radio, "Ottawa Exec. Cessna six-four-niner-four-three. Taking off. Runway zero-two. Ottawa."
Wow. What was that all about?, I thought.
We rumbled down the rough runway at what seemed like a snail's pace but, the gauges told different.
Bill had me 'man' the left seat controls (hold the yoke but, don't interfere with it's movement) while he operated his from the right seat.
Bill pulled back on the yoke and the ground sank. The nose had lifted off the ground and the view out of the windshield filled with sky.
My instinct kicked in, "Oh, we're in too deep! Jump out!" (it had been a few years and I wasn't an 'indestructible teenager' anymore), when, suddenly there was calming silence. We were airborne - flying like a bird.
I remember looking out of the side window at the trees getting smaller as we climbed.
The streets lined like pencil strokes. The houses, like miniature play-things...
Then, the wind!
The wind picked up about 10 minutes into our joy ride and threw the plane up, then down.
We lost about 50ft, total, as Bill explained - "not a big deal".
He worded everything in a manner to keep me calm but, it was too late - I was an addict.
I held that yoke in my hand with a grin so wide you could see it from space.
You see, my first flight was so vague and uneventfull that after 6 years I didn't even remember anything about it, other than handing over my precious dollars.
It was Bill that got me re-addicted. He kept my interest and made me remember it so vividly.
That's the key behind choosing the perfect CFI. I was lucky in finding mine on my second flight.
Some people will go through several CFIs before finding their match. It's more intensive than picking a name for your first born child, I believe.
From May until September 10, 2001 I flew atleast once a week - after work and extending my lunch hours to get in as much flying time as possible.
With my history of automotive repair all of the technical information absorbed into my head with ease. Flight Dynamics were a breeze, once I started to study and actually experience them.
I reached the minimum time for 'Solo' flying and my new instructor, Chris (because Bill was swamped with new students/co-workers), couldn't wait to cut me loose.
I remember it perfectly.
At this point I had been stuck in the rut of 'Take Offs and Landings' - doing ONLY that for the last 8 flight lessons. This is the point in flight school that upwards of 50% of students quit. Only the true buffs stick it out through the end, and that's kind of the point the FAA wants to make. They don't want amateurs up in the air alongside professionals. EVERY Pilot is a professional. If you don't have the gusto to learn how to land than you shouldn't be up there in the first place, messing up our nice, clean airways.
There is a rule in flying - "You must have as many landings as you do take-offs."
Lunch time, September 10, 2001.
I showed up to the airport at 12:10pm, ready to start another flying lesson.
Chris and I started off as usual and I completed three take offs and landings (slightly less than perfect, I might add) and on the last hard landing Chris told me to pull up to the tarmac (parking/staging area off the runway) and give him my 'medical' (a health certificate required for flying).
I thought, maybe, my last landing-gear-crushing incident was too harsh for him and my days of flying were over.
I was hesitant to hand it over but, I did, anyway.
Without a word Chris signed his name on the back of my medical and handed it back to me.
"Now, give me three more.", he said as he opened the passenger door and jumped out.
"But. But. But....", I was like a scared kitten looking for his mommy as I watched my instructor, my only hope for living through this, climb up onto the viewing platform and pull a radio out of his flightbag.
Over the radio I hear, "You'll notice how much better the old girl handles without my fat body in there."
(He weighed, maybe, 165lbs). I tried to respond but, forgot how to work the radio.
I just waved.
This was it. Just me and the plane.
I lined up with the center line and wiped the sweat from my eyes.
"Lights. Camera. Action."
The phrase had been drilled into my head from day one.
"Lights" - are all my lights on? Yes.
"Camera" - are flaps up, gauges set and doors tight? Yes.
"Action" - slow throttle and release the brakes...
This was the part I wasn't expecting.
Within, what seemed like, seconds I was airborne. All by myself, climbing at a rambunctious 400ft/sec.
Much faster than with a passenger on such a warm day.
I leveled out and saw the world for the first time in a new light (even newer than my first flight). Time stood still as I watched birds fly underneath me and the highway became a small grey line.
Then, suddenly, it sank in.
I was alone! In a flying machine!!
Everything I do, from here on out, is up to me!!!
"ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!!"
I think my fingerprints are still embedded in that yoke to this day.
Suddenly, a familiar voice came over the radio, "See what I mean?"
The sound of Chris's voice brought me back to all the training I'd had and a soothing calm came over me.
We chatted over the UNICOM (UNIversal COMmunticator) as I made my way back to the runway and made three smooth, if not elongated, touchdowns.
The following day all student pilots where grounded for 3 months and I had to re-learn a lot of what I had forgotten in that time.
Over the course of the following year I went through extensive training in flight control, cross country, night and IMC (flying into clouds by accident) until, on November 15, 2002 - after 4.4 hours of testing by a regional examiner - the world had a freshly minted Private Pilot.
Now that you've heard my story, let me walk you through the steps of obtaining your pilot's certificate in order to become a skyward cowboy, or girl.
At worst, this book will even out a wobbly sofa leg.
Who knows - but you.
Welcome to Flight School, Captain.
That's right. When you earn your Private Pilot certificate you also take on the title of 'Captain', no matter what you fly.
It's not like it's a huge deal. No fireworks, or special seats at the restaurant, or anything but, you get the distinct honor of being an elite member of a club of people who love the same thing you do.
What it boils down to is: when you're in control of that vessel, either by yourself, or a plane full of friends, WHAT YOU SAY - GOES. No 'ifs, ands or buts'. (You can always open the door and tell them to get out!)
Even the busiest Air Traffic Controller must bend to your wishes, whether he wants to, or not.
You are the Pilot In Command (PIC).
Now, I'm not saying that you can just fly up into O'Hare and tell ATC to divert a Boeing 747 just so you can land in time for lunch but, if you say something isn't 'do-able' or you're low on fuel you're in charge until that plane lands and comes to a stop.
How's them apples?
There are other advantages, too.
When you start flight school you're going to be out with friends at a social gathering and you ARE going to talk about flying. There's no way out of it - either from your internal excitement, or friends asking about your progress.
Every once in a while you'll have someone at a nearby table pipe up with, "So. You're going for your ticket, eh?", or some varient, and you'll have just made a connection with someone that you never would have guessed had been flying for 40 years.
Sometimes these pilots will be the plumber that's fixing your sink (at a 'recently discounted price for his new buddy') or the bartender (who's suddenly extending 'Happy Hour' for his new buddy).
You'll discover, quickly, that pilots do, in fact, come from every walk of life. And, if they aren't pilots, most people want to be one, or are at least interested in flying. That's why air shows have so many attendents every year.
This is where you get to fill the 'groundlings' in with the vast knowledge that you've experienced, so far.
You will be a God in their glossed over, wide eyes.
Day One.
I believe that before you do anything, be it baking a cake or skydiving, you should read up on how things work before you try it.
You should see my first attempt at building a birdhouse without reading the book in shop class...(we don't like to talk about it..)
Basically, if you're going to tackle flying for a hobby or for business, you should become a book worm - involving most everything you do from the first day you think about getting your ticket until the day you actually....well, die, you should be learning about flying.
In theory, you will never come to a point where you haven't learned something after a flight - even something as small as how the neighboring towns airport gets wind gusts on a 70 degree day or that your mother can handle loops and bumps but, smooth flight makes her turn green.
My mom doesn't like seeing the runway coming up so quickly.
During the course of your training you will have to purchase a Jeppeson (a 'Jepp Kit'), or similar, flight kit - containing a handy flight bag and 3 or 4 books that teach you everything you need to know about Private Pilot flying.
You will also get your first Pilot Logbook - you're personal 'Flying Baby Book', as it were, to record everything about your flying life and history, down to the tenth of an hour.
You'll have to keep a separate scrap book for 'first band-aid from propellor knicks' and 'first lost tooth from landing hard', though.
You will also want to buy a nice quality head-set, instead of renting from the FBO (Fixed Base Operator [the school/rental place]). It's much cheaper in the long run - trust me. Plus, you'll know who's head has been in them.
I'd recommend a medium brand if you're going to be flying for fun, picture taking or impressing girls.
Going the 'cheap' route will only get you inaudible volumes and static from flight controllers and, more importantly, your instructor while the high-end ones will be worth more than your ticket, itself.
I personally have a set of 'ASA' and 'Concept Industries C-40' head-gear - both for around a hundred bucks.
They work great for what I need to do - which is, of course, impress girls.
You can ask around the repair hangers or pilot's lounge to see if anyone's got any used ones they want to get rid of.
Take them for a 'test flight' before you buy them though - not just for noise but for fit.
You want to be comfortable on those 8 hour flights as much as you do for those 25 minute ones.
A head-set is basically like a pair of 70's style stereo headphones but, with a microphone and two leads (wires) coming off the end.
One lead is for the control tower/ground controller/etc (external radio) and one is for the unicom [small letters] (internal radio to passengers).
Position the microphone close to, and below, your mouth. This way you won't be blowing into the mic as you talk and your passenger/instructor/controller won't receive that annoying "Pfftt" on their end.
The flight kit will usually (should/better) contain four main books.
One will be the thick, hard cover book of everything - with illustrations and graphs to show you how the world of flying works - from Bernoulli and Da Vinci (really) to sea planes and hot air baloons, and everything in between.
Two books will be comparatively thinner and soft cover.
One contains the ins-and-outs of the testing procedure and the other contains the actual test questions themselves. (cheating? No.)
There are a total of 50 (in my time) questions on your written exam, when the time comes, but this book holds all 1,200 possible questions that the test could ask.
Learn them all. Not just for the test but, because it's good practice to know every single one of them (and you can't cheat 'by number/letter matching' because they move them around - like the driver's test does).
The fourth book will be a nine by seven, super thick book called the FAR/AIM Book.
This is the book that decrees the laws of the Airman (you).
This is the book that makes your flight bag hang low on your weary shoulder.
This is the book that makes small children weep at night...
'F.A.R.' - Federal Aviation Regulations.
'A.I.M.' - Aeronautical Information Manual.
They are actually two books combined into one, for easy confusion and sleep-inducing reading.
The important ones to remember are the '61.xx' section (how to GET your ticket) and the '91.xx' section (how to KEEP your ticket).
For instance:
FAR Reg 69.1 Applicabilty and Definitions
(a) This part prescribes:
(1)The requirements for issuing pilot, flight instuctor, and ground instructor certificates and ratings; the conditions under which those certificates and ratings are necessary; and the privileges and limitiations of those certificates and ratings.
Blah blah blah,,,further down
(2) (i) A person who wishes to obtain a pilot certificate must be able to speak, write and understand english (world wide, even in Antarctica.)
(ii) This person shall hold atleast a third class medical certificate stating they are in good health.
(iii) This person shall...zzzzzzzz
And, FAR Reg 91.181 Course to be Flown
Unless otherwise authorized by ATC, no person may operate an aircraft within controlled airspace under IFR (Instrument Flight Rules - flying in clouds) except as follows:
(a) On a Federal airway, along the centerline of that airway.
(b) On any other route, along the direct course between the navigational aids or fixes defining that route.
It sounds like a lot of hocus-pocus in the beginning but, as you work your way through your flight training it will all start to make sense - which is the scary part.
Picking your 'Go-To Guy'.
"How much is that instructor in the window?"
I know, it's a catchy variation to 'doggy in the window' but, it's an important question you'll want to ask.
Now that you've read the books (or, at least, started) and have some sort of an idea of what General Aviation is all about you'll want to shop around for the best Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) that best matches you and your learning ability.
The main thing here is: WHO matches YOU?
Don't take the word of a friend of a friend who flew with someone at some point. Take your time and fly with several CFIs until you find someone who you're comfortable with.
Just because 'Old Carl' has been teaching students for the last 40 years doesn't mean that you wouldn't be better off with 'Newbie Steve' who just got his CFI rating last week. (Remember Bill?)
Pick someone who you feel won't intimidate you behind the yoke.
If you're laid back, pick a guy who's laid back.
If you like joking around while doing stuff, pick the 'Lounge Clown'.
If you find that you're flying with someone who's not right for you a professional CFI won't be upset if you change instructors.
If he does get upset then you're better off without him, anyway.
The 'right' CFI is like a parent. Everything you learn from them will stick with you for the rest of your life.
The real advantage is, unlike when you were a teenager, you can pick and choose your parent this time.
A good CFI will start out as a coach, a leader, showing how and when.
Then he'll become a mentor, answering the fewer and fewer questions that come up.
Then he'll become a friend, someone you can turn to when things get tough.
And, after the big day, he'll become your equal. Everything he has learned will now be in your head.
"The circle will now be complete. The learner has become the master". [Enter Darth Vader breath here]
This is why choosing the right person for the job is important.
You don't want to live the rest of your un-ticketed life cursing 'That danged Instructor', just because you were too impatient to shop around.
That's what my uncle did. He quit, mid-flight, after an arguement with his 'too strict' instructor and now regrets not being able to share as many stories with me.
That was 12 years ago and he never got back into it.
The Pre-Flight.
Ok. So you've read the books and you've picked your guy (atleast for now) and you reach for the door leading to the parking ramp...
Not so fast, Speedy McAviator!
Your instructor's next job is to teach you all about the inner workings of the airport, itself.
-How do you rent the plane? (assuming you didn't bring your own - which you can,,,Mr(s) Moneybags [of course, YOU don't fly it to the airport, yourself])
-What paperwork do you need on you/with you/in the plane/in your last will and testament...?
-Proper weather judgement. (50mph winds and heavy rain? Kick the tires and light the fire, right?)
-Fueling arrangements (most, if not all, FBOs include fuel/oil in the rental so it's "free")
-Scheduleing. (others want to use that plane, too - again, assuming you didn't bring your own.)
-And, he'll go over some basics that you learned in your books - most importantly, the mechanics of flight and the mechanical airplane, itself.
Now you can head outside.
You walk past the rows and rows of nicely painted, clean airplanes. You envision yourself punching holes in the sky with these beautiful pieces of machinery and keep thinking to yourself, "Is this one mine?" "Maybe that one?" but, your instructor keeps walking to the end of the line and around the corner of the hanger until...
You meet 'Black Betty', a tattered, banged up wreck that barely resembles an airplane - named not because she's painted black but, because the oil and dirt have caked on so thick that she's long been consumed by it.
You open the left side door with a loud creak and set your nice, new headphones on the sun-cracked, dusty instrument panel.
A badger scurries out from under the seat and you start to have your doubts as you look over at your instructor who's breathing in deeply and looking to the clear blue sky - his home away from home.
He reaches into the pocket on the back of the seat and pulls out a piece of paper that reminds you of an old Pirate treasure map - barely keeping itself together and stained by coffee long drank.
I'm exaggerating, of course.
It's actually a chipmunk that scurries out from under the seat.
I've got 'last written' dates at points, but I started around November.
It's not done, obviously, but this is what I've go so far.
Tell me if it's too 'wordy'.
I think it might be.
Also, tell me of any grammar and spelling stuff.
('Centering' and formatting got eliminated while posting. Just go with it and pretend.)
Squawk
and 'Ident'.
A Guide for 'Groundlings'.
General Aviation (GA) is the level of flying that doesn't require a 5 mile stretch of runway nor burn more cash in fuel just taxiing to parking than you earn in a year.
General Aviation can be anything from buzzing your cornfield in a home made UltraLight that you built in your two stall garage, to a 4 seat Cessna Skyhawk that you use to take family and friends on a day trip to find that elusive '$100 Hamburger', to a 16 passenger Leer-jet that your boss has you fly him and his mistress down to the Bahamas in for for the weekend.
GA also includes helicopters for work and fun, as well as seaplanes for the more secluded spots.
Basically, anything with less than 4 engines tied to it's wings and weighs less than a quarter million pounds can be concidered a GA aircraft but, I'm getting ahead of myself, already.
We'll stick to the basics for beginners in the book
GA is a staple of freedom in the U.S. A freedom that allows a single person to reach for the stars and obtain them - for the most part.
When most people think of Private Pilots they believe that only Doctors and Lawyers can afford to 'buy and fly' but, that's not the case.
Everyone from your local plumber, carpenter, school nurse, or even a preacher can afford and earn atleast a 'Private Certificate' (in aviation your license is called a 'certificate', or 'ticket'. Add-ons are called 'ratings' - similar to a motorcycle 'endorsement'.)
I was a mere 24 year old auto technician in a small town making less than 30 large a year from a cheapskate, dutch business owner when I started. If I can do it with that little bit, anyone can. Trust me.
In this book I plan to knock the rust off the wings of former pilots and, perhaps, teach a few non-flyers all about what it takes to get their wings.
Perhaps, even, by the end of this book there will be fewer non-flyers (or, 'groundlings') in the world.
You will also note that if anything 'technical' comes up, I will explain them as I go.
I also spread humor about, evenly, "with a large butter knife" when I write - or so I'm told - so things shouldn't get boring.
At least, I hope not.
About the Author
The year was 1977 and the world welcomed a new-born, and rather handsome, baby boy.
From that day forward I would wrench his neck skyward when a small plane would pass over. The stacking sound of the propellor as it neared and the changing buzz as it passed overhead. It was a natural, if not short lived, 'high' for me and I was always looking forward to my next 'fix'.
Living near an airport during my teen years did help quench my thirst at times.
When I was 18 I signed up for a 'Discovery Flight' (a short, inexpensive flight to hook you into flying becoming a student) with the local college in my hometown.
I loved the flight but, the attitude of the instructor seemed more towards the "I've got a Porsche to pay for kid. Are you going to sign up, or what?"
Again, at 18 the choice wasn't really mine, anyway. I was still flipping burgers down at the local joint and it took me 3 weeks just to save up for that short hour in the air (back then - 25 whoppin' dollars..heh).
Alas, I put my dream on hold due to expense and a lack of know-how.
However, the month of April, 2001 was just finishing up when a regular customer, Bill, came into the auto repair garage that I worked in and announced that he'd just earned his CFI (Certified Flight Instructor ) rating.
My birthday was right around the corner (May 3, to be exact ) and I decided that I'd love to give myself the ultimate gift, since, by then, I was self-sufficient and living on my own at the ripe old age of 24.
My first flight with Bill was a ton better than my last.
Bill, being new to the CFI market, was very thorough - showing me everything from the ground up, perhaps in an all too eager to teach manner.
That day is still crystal clear in my memory, like it happened yesterday.
Unlike the previous intructor, Bill showed me every little thing that's involved with the inner workings of an airplane (which wasn't too complex for me, concidering my auto repair background), airport procedures and flight dynamics (which were a little confusing at first).
We sat in and around that airplane for atleast two and half hours before we even hit the ignition.
By that time I was familiar with the sweet smell of an ageing Cessna. The 100 Low Lead fuel. The feel of the cold aluminum paneling. The distinct aroma of 'vomit-resistant, pleather upholstery...
After the 'preflight' (gas, oil, wings attached?, etc.) we settled in.
Bill had me start the engine while reciting some odd language (a language I'm all too familiar with, now) and we did a 'Run Up' (rev the engine a little to test running conditions and flight control surfaces [rudder, ailerons and elevators]).
Then, Bill called out on the radio, "Ottawa Exec. Cessna six-four-niner-four-three. Taking off. Runway zero-two. Ottawa."
Wow. What was that all about?, I thought.
We rumbled down the rough runway at what seemed like a snail's pace but, the gauges told different.
Bill had me 'man' the left seat controls (hold the yoke but, don't interfere with it's movement) while he operated his from the right seat.
Bill pulled back on the yoke and the ground sank. The nose had lifted off the ground and the view out of the windshield filled with sky.
My instinct kicked in, "Oh, we're in too deep! Jump out!" (it had been a few years and I wasn't an 'indestructible teenager' anymore), when, suddenly there was calming silence. We were airborne - flying like a bird.
I remember looking out of the side window at the trees getting smaller as we climbed.
The streets lined like pencil strokes. The houses, like miniature play-things...
Then, the wind!
The wind picked up about 10 minutes into our joy ride and threw the plane up, then down.
We lost about 50ft, total, as Bill explained - "not a big deal".
He worded everything in a manner to keep me calm but, it was too late - I was an addict.
I held that yoke in my hand with a grin so wide you could see it from space.
You see, my first flight was so vague and uneventfull that after 6 years I didn't even remember anything about it, other than handing over my precious dollars.
It was Bill that got me re-addicted. He kept my interest and made me remember it so vividly.
That's the key behind choosing the perfect CFI. I was lucky in finding mine on my second flight.
Some people will go through several CFIs before finding their match. It's more intensive than picking a name for your first born child, I believe.
From May until September 10, 2001 I flew atleast once a week - after work and extending my lunch hours to get in as much flying time as possible.
With my history of automotive repair all of the technical information absorbed into my head with ease. Flight Dynamics were a breeze, once I started to study and actually experience them.
I reached the minimum time for 'Solo' flying and my new instructor, Chris (because Bill was swamped with new students/co-workers), couldn't wait to cut me loose.
I remember it perfectly.
At this point I had been stuck in the rut of 'Take Offs and Landings' - doing ONLY that for the last 8 flight lessons. This is the point in flight school that upwards of 50% of students quit. Only the true buffs stick it out through the end, and that's kind of the point the FAA wants to make. They don't want amateurs up in the air alongside professionals. EVERY Pilot is a professional. If you don't have the gusto to learn how to land than you shouldn't be up there in the first place, messing up our nice, clean airways.
There is a rule in flying - "You must have as many landings as you do take-offs."
Lunch time, September 10, 2001.
I showed up to the airport at 12:10pm, ready to start another flying lesson.
Chris and I started off as usual and I completed three take offs and landings (slightly less than perfect, I might add) and on the last hard landing Chris told me to pull up to the tarmac (parking/staging area off the runway) and give him my 'medical' (a health certificate required for flying).
I thought, maybe, my last landing-gear-crushing incident was too harsh for him and my days of flying were over.
I was hesitant to hand it over but, I did, anyway.
Without a word Chris signed his name on the back of my medical and handed it back to me.
"Now, give me three more.", he said as he opened the passenger door and jumped out.
"But. But. But....", I was like a scared kitten looking for his mommy as I watched my instructor, my only hope for living through this, climb up onto the viewing platform and pull a radio out of his flightbag.
Over the radio I hear, "You'll notice how much better the old girl handles without my fat body in there."
(He weighed, maybe, 165lbs). I tried to respond but, forgot how to work the radio.
I just waved.
This was it. Just me and the plane.
I lined up with the center line and wiped the sweat from my eyes.
"Lights. Camera. Action."
The phrase had been drilled into my head from day one.
"Lights" - are all my lights on? Yes.
"Camera" - are flaps up, gauges set and doors tight? Yes.
"Action" - slow throttle and release the brakes...
This was the part I wasn't expecting.
Within, what seemed like, seconds I was airborne. All by myself, climbing at a rambunctious 400ft/sec.
Much faster than with a passenger on such a warm day.
I leveled out and saw the world for the first time in a new light (even newer than my first flight). Time stood still as I watched birds fly underneath me and the highway became a small grey line.
Then, suddenly, it sank in.
I was alone! In a flying machine!!
Everything I do, from here on out, is up to me!!!
"ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!!"
I think my fingerprints are still embedded in that yoke to this day.
Suddenly, a familiar voice came over the radio, "See what I mean?"
The sound of Chris's voice brought me back to all the training I'd had and a soothing calm came over me.
We chatted over the UNICOM (UNIversal COMmunticator) as I made my way back to the runway and made three smooth, if not elongated, touchdowns.
The following day all student pilots where grounded for 3 months and I had to re-learn a lot of what I had forgotten in that time.
Over the course of the following year I went through extensive training in flight control, cross country, night and IMC (flying into clouds by accident) until, on November 15, 2002 - after 4.4 hours of testing by a regional examiner - the world had a freshly minted Private Pilot.
Now that you've heard my story, let me walk you through the steps of obtaining your pilot's certificate in order to become a skyward cowboy, or girl.
At worst, this book will even out a wobbly sofa leg.
Who knows - but you.
Welcome to Flight School, Captain.
That's right. When you earn your Private Pilot certificate you also take on the title of 'Captain', no matter what you fly.
It's not like it's a huge deal. No fireworks, or special seats at the restaurant, or anything but, you get the distinct honor of being an elite member of a club of people who love the same thing you do.
What it boils down to is: when you're in control of that vessel, either by yourself, or a plane full of friends, WHAT YOU SAY - GOES. No 'ifs, ands or buts'. (You can always open the door and tell them to get out!)
Even the busiest Air Traffic Controller must bend to your wishes, whether he wants to, or not.
You are the Pilot In Command (PIC).
Now, I'm not saying that you can just fly up into O'Hare and tell ATC to divert a Boeing 747 just so you can land in time for lunch but, if you say something isn't 'do-able' or you're low on fuel you're in charge until that plane lands and comes to a stop.
How's them apples?
There are other advantages, too.
When you start flight school you're going to be out with friends at a social gathering and you ARE going to talk about flying. There's no way out of it - either from your internal excitement, or friends asking about your progress.
Every once in a while you'll have someone at a nearby table pipe up with, "So. You're going for your ticket, eh?", or some varient, and you'll have just made a connection with someone that you never would have guessed had been flying for 40 years.
Sometimes these pilots will be the plumber that's fixing your sink (at a 'recently discounted price for his new buddy') or the bartender (who's suddenly extending 'Happy Hour' for his new buddy).
You'll discover, quickly, that pilots do, in fact, come from every walk of life. And, if they aren't pilots, most people want to be one, or are at least interested in flying. That's why air shows have so many attendents every year.
This is where you get to fill the 'groundlings' in with the vast knowledge that you've experienced, so far.
You will be a God in their glossed over, wide eyes.
Day One.
I believe that before you do anything, be it baking a cake or skydiving, you should read up on how things work before you try it.
You should see my first attempt at building a birdhouse without reading the book in shop class...(we don't like to talk about it..)
Basically, if you're going to tackle flying for a hobby or for business, you should become a book worm - involving most everything you do from the first day you think about getting your ticket until the day you actually....well, die, you should be learning about flying.
In theory, you will never come to a point where you haven't learned something after a flight - even something as small as how the neighboring towns airport gets wind gusts on a 70 degree day or that your mother can handle loops and bumps but, smooth flight makes her turn green.
My mom doesn't like seeing the runway coming up so quickly.
During the course of your training you will have to purchase a Jeppeson (a 'Jepp Kit'), or similar, flight kit - containing a handy flight bag and 3 or 4 books that teach you everything you need to know about Private Pilot flying.
You will also get your first Pilot Logbook - you're personal 'Flying Baby Book', as it were, to record everything about your flying life and history, down to the tenth of an hour.
You'll have to keep a separate scrap book for 'first band-aid from propellor knicks' and 'first lost tooth from landing hard', though.
You will also want to buy a nice quality head-set, instead of renting from the FBO (Fixed Base Operator [the school/rental place]). It's much cheaper in the long run - trust me. Plus, you'll know who's head has been in them.
I'd recommend a medium brand if you're going to be flying for fun, picture taking or impressing girls.
Going the 'cheap' route will only get you inaudible volumes and static from flight controllers and, more importantly, your instructor while the high-end ones will be worth more than your ticket, itself.
I personally have a set of 'ASA' and 'Concept Industries C-40' head-gear - both for around a hundred bucks.
They work great for what I need to do - which is, of course, impress girls.
You can ask around the repair hangers or pilot's lounge to see if anyone's got any used ones they want to get rid of.
Take them for a 'test flight' before you buy them though - not just for noise but for fit.
You want to be comfortable on those 8 hour flights as much as you do for those 25 minute ones.
A head-set is basically like a pair of 70's style stereo headphones but, with a microphone and two leads (wires) coming off the end.
One lead is for the control tower/ground controller/etc (external radio) and one is for the unicom [small letters] (internal radio to passengers).
Position the microphone close to, and below, your mouth. This way you won't be blowing into the mic as you talk and your passenger/instructor/controller won't receive that annoying "Pfftt" on their end.
The flight kit will usually (should/better) contain four main books.
One will be the thick, hard cover book of everything - with illustrations and graphs to show you how the world of flying works - from Bernoulli and Da Vinci (really) to sea planes and hot air baloons, and everything in between.
Two books will be comparatively thinner and soft cover.
One contains the ins-and-outs of the testing procedure and the other contains the actual test questions themselves. (cheating? No.)
There are a total of 50 (in my time) questions on your written exam, when the time comes, but this book holds all 1,200 possible questions that the test could ask.
Learn them all. Not just for the test but, because it's good practice to know every single one of them (and you can't cheat 'by number/letter matching' because they move them around - like the driver's test does).
The fourth book will be a nine by seven, super thick book called the FAR/AIM Book.
This is the book that decrees the laws of the Airman (you).
This is the book that makes your flight bag hang low on your weary shoulder.
This is the book that makes small children weep at night...
'F.A.R.' - Federal Aviation Regulations.
'A.I.M.' - Aeronautical Information Manual.
They are actually two books combined into one, for easy confusion and sleep-inducing reading.
The important ones to remember are the '61.xx' section (how to GET your ticket) and the '91.xx' section (how to KEEP your ticket).
For instance:
FAR Reg 69.1 Applicabilty and Definitions
(a) This part prescribes:
(1)The requirements for issuing pilot, flight instuctor, and ground instructor certificates and ratings; the conditions under which those certificates and ratings are necessary; and the privileges and limitiations of those certificates and ratings.
Blah blah blah,,,further down
(2) (i) A person who wishes to obtain a pilot certificate must be able to speak, write and understand english (world wide, even in Antarctica.)
(ii) This person shall hold atleast a third class medical certificate stating they are in good health.
(iii) This person shall...zzzzzzzz
And, FAR Reg 91.181 Course to be Flown
Unless otherwise authorized by ATC, no person may operate an aircraft within controlled airspace under IFR (Instrument Flight Rules - flying in clouds) except as follows:
(a) On a Federal airway, along the centerline of that airway.
(b) On any other route, along the direct course between the navigational aids or fixes defining that route.
It sounds like a lot of hocus-pocus in the beginning but, as you work your way through your flight training it will all start to make sense - which is the scary part.
Picking your 'Go-To Guy'.
"How much is that instructor in the window?"
I know, it's a catchy variation to 'doggy in the window' but, it's an important question you'll want to ask.
Now that you've read the books (or, at least, started) and have some sort of an idea of what General Aviation is all about you'll want to shop around for the best Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) that best matches you and your learning ability.
The main thing here is: WHO matches YOU?
Don't take the word of a friend of a friend who flew with someone at some point. Take your time and fly with several CFIs until you find someone who you're comfortable with.
Just because 'Old Carl' has been teaching students for the last 40 years doesn't mean that you wouldn't be better off with 'Newbie Steve' who just got his CFI rating last week. (Remember Bill?)
Pick someone who you feel won't intimidate you behind the yoke.
If you're laid back, pick a guy who's laid back.
If you like joking around while doing stuff, pick the 'Lounge Clown'.
If you find that you're flying with someone who's not right for you a professional CFI won't be upset if you change instructors.
If he does get upset then you're better off without him, anyway.
The 'right' CFI is like a parent. Everything you learn from them will stick with you for the rest of your life.
The real advantage is, unlike when you were a teenager, you can pick and choose your parent this time.
A good CFI will start out as a coach, a leader, showing how and when.
Then he'll become a mentor, answering the fewer and fewer questions that come up.
Then he'll become a friend, someone you can turn to when things get tough.
And, after the big day, he'll become your equal. Everything he has learned will now be in your head.
"The circle will now be complete. The learner has become the master". [Enter Darth Vader breath here]
This is why choosing the right person for the job is important.
You don't want to live the rest of your un-ticketed life cursing 'That danged Instructor', just because you were too impatient to shop around.
That's what my uncle did. He quit, mid-flight, after an arguement with his 'too strict' instructor and now regrets not being able to share as many stories with me.
That was 12 years ago and he never got back into it.
The Pre-Flight.
Ok. So you've read the books and you've picked your guy (atleast for now) and you reach for the door leading to the parking ramp...
Not so fast, Speedy McAviator!
Your instructor's next job is to teach you all about the inner workings of the airport, itself.
-How do you rent the plane? (assuming you didn't bring your own - which you can,,,Mr(s) Moneybags [of course, YOU don't fly it to the airport, yourself])
-What paperwork do you need on you/with you/in the plane/in your last will and testament...?
-Proper weather judgement. (50mph winds and heavy rain? Kick the tires and light the fire, right?)
-Fueling arrangements (most, if not all, FBOs include fuel/oil in the rental so it's "free")
-Scheduleing. (others want to use that plane, too - again, assuming you didn't bring your own.)
-And, he'll go over some basics that you learned in your books - most importantly, the mechanics of flight and the mechanical airplane, itself.
Now you can head outside.
You walk past the rows and rows of nicely painted, clean airplanes. You envision yourself punching holes in the sky with these beautiful pieces of machinery and keep thinking to yourself, "Is this one mine?" "Maybe that one?" but, your instructor keeps walking to the end of the line and around the corner of the hanger until...
You meet 'Black Betty', a tattered, banged up wreck that barely resembles an airplane - named not because she's painted black but, because the oil and dirt have caked on so thick that she's long been consumed by it.
You open the left side door with a loud creak and set your nice, new headphones on the sun-cracked, dusty instrument panel.
A badger scurries out from under the seat and you start to have your doubts as you look over at your instructor who's breathing in deeply and looking to the clear blue sky - his home away from home.
He reaches into the pocket on the back of the seat and pulls out a piece of paper that reminds you of an old Pirate treasure map - barely keeping itself together and stained by coffee long drank.
I'm exaggerating, of course.
It's actually a chipmunk that scurries out from under the seat.
