Post by Mahnarch on Aug 18, 2007 3:15:58 GMT -5
For those who don't already know, I'm a 'Jack of all trades', as it were.
I drive Semi, full time. I write (published), and I'm a Private Pilot.
I also tend to get long winded so, for those not interested in my stories and want to look up some cool airplane related stuff and/or take some flight related tests and quizzes, I've provided links right off the bat:
Courses and Tests
Learn to Fly
A quick quiz on GA weather and a chance to win a radio/scanner
Information on GA
Or peruse my personal pictures:
Mahnarch's Airplane Album
***
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was but a wee lad the day before my 24th birthday when a regular customer of mine came into the shop that I worked at and announced that he'd just gotten his Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) certificate.
I jumped at the chance to become his first student and went on an hour long 'Discovery Flight' with him.
That hour has since been burned into my mind for the rest of my life.
The smell of the inside of that airplane. The smell of the AVgas (100 Low Lead). Running my hand down the length of the propellor for the first time.
The sudden smoothness of the airplane as the wheels gently left the bumpy runway behind for my first ever flight into the open blue yonder, still etched into my mind.
The people slowly turning into ants.
That bird we almost hit!!
It brings back a fond and cherished memory and is usually followed by the memory of the year and a half that I spent going through O.K. Air Service, based out of Ottawa-Executive Airport.
**
My second flight ever was with a new instructor. My 'friend' had already become over-run with his own friends and co-workers and so he referred me to Chris #1 (more on the '#1, later).
Chris 1 was your typical, preppy instructor when I first met him. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black tie, black dress pants and carried a briefcase.
He went by the books through the introduction and setting me up into the system for rentals and classes.
We went through several hours of training (usually 1 hour a day, once or twice a week) until I got to my 11th hour in my log book.
I had been practicing basic manuevers: Wind correction, Turns about a point, S-curves along a road...and many, many, many Take-Offs and Landings (I spent three 'hours' doing nothing but T/Os and Ls)
Then, one day after I did 3 T/Os and Ls (where the last one I tried breaking the landing gear off), Chris non-chalantly asks me if I had my 'medical' on me (Medical Certificate required for flying) while we're idling on the runway (small port, little traffic).
Me: "Yeah."
Chris: "Give it to me!"
Me: "No!" (not wanting him to rip it up for that last landing)
I finally give it to him and he writes something on the back.
Chris: "Take me back to parking."
At this point I'm thinking I've screwed up one too many times and he's sick of it. He's letting me go.
I pull up to the building and he jumps out, really quick, and turns back to me.
Chris: "Now give me three more!
Me:".......what?" *death grip on the yoke*
Chris slams the door and runs toward the building.
Now it was just me and the Warrior (I was flying a Piper Warrior at the time).
I re--aligned with the runway and announced my intentions, "Ottawa Exec, Warrior, Three Niner Zero Eight Foxtrot, departing runway two zero, Ottawa."
I went over my guages time and time again. "Does everything read good?"...."What does 'good' look like again?"..."Did I just hear the engine misfire?"...
I pushed the throttle forward and the engine roared to life like a lion pouncing on his prey after hours of sneaking up on it.
Lifting my toes off the brakes the plane pulled me down the runway with a thrust I hadn't felt before. Sweat streaming to the back of my head, instead of pouring down.
Rudder's working already. Don't pull back, yet.
45 knots. Don't pull.
50 knots. Ease her back. Get the nose wheel up just a smidge.
55 knots.........silence. Except for the whir of the propellor in my windscreen.
I WAS AIRBORNE, BABY!!!!!
Climbing at a massive 350 ft/sec as opposed to the typical 200 when Chris was with me.
I soared over the highway, just off the end of the runway and turned to 'Downwind' (parralelling the runway the opposite direction of take off) when a voice came over the radio:
Chris: "She takes off a lot faster without my fat body in there, doesn't she?
Me: "I never realized you weighed that much!", I joked back.
Chris: "Hey, watch it little man, otherwise I'll fly with you every time!", he chided back.
I did three take offs and landings, solo, and came back to the ramp.
Chris jumps back into the right seat and says, "Ok. I'm going to show you what this puppy can really do...
For the next hour he was 'off the clock' and I rode along as he showed me several maneuvers that 'I should never learn'.
So, here I am, a newly minted student, an hour off of being signed to 'Solo' and I'm being taught how to make a paper cup float just off the dash, how to make the plane float downward like a falling leaf and how to 'Chop and Drop' (cut throttle, full flaps, kick the plane into a slip and drop like a rock....for when you come in too hot [fast] and high for landing.)
That was probably the best lesson I ever got. It taught me to not be too afraid of the sky and what exactly an airplane can and CAN'T do.
A week later I ran into the 'big city' to take the first of three required tests: The written - a three hour long test on a computer that's still running on DOS that tests your knowledge of charting, weather, mechanics of an airplane (easy for me, same as a car), and general airport knowledge.
I passed with an 85% - national average is 72%, with a minimum of 70% to pass.
After several more weeks I was signed off to 'Solo - Cross Country', where I could leave a 50 nautical mile (as the crow flies) radius of the airport and fly to other airports without an instructor but, the day after.......
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001.
I was grounded for 6 weeks and had to go back and relearn everything I had almost forgotten, plus a few new things that the government decided that we needed to do (since we were ALL terrorists, now).
New charts. New AF/Ds. New TFRs. New ADIZ. New rectal exploration tactics...New instructor, Chris #2.
In the three months off, Chris #1 got a job chartering light twins in Florida.
Chris #2 was fresh out of Delta/ComAir in Florida and was just as great as Chris #1, only funnier.
I suffered through background checks, fingerprinting, I.D.ing, and FBI profiling, etc....just to have the government say - a few weeks later - "Nevermind! We don't need all that stuff."
A few weeks after that I had taken back to the air, regularly, and was flying like I was on asphalt.
I flew several 'Round Robins' (Take off, fly to a far away airport, fly to another airport and return 'home') with Chris #2 and was signed off for my longest and most defining cross country solo.
I planned meticulously for weeks (2 of them, to be exact), checking the weather reports every morning. Calling Flight Service in Lansing every other day for an 'Outlook' and plotting my course with landmarks and time/dead reckoning techniques.
I was set. I knew my charts like the back of my hand.
I knew that the sky was going to be 'clear' all that day and I knew the winds aloft by heart. (I don't remember them, now,,,,it's been 6 years).
Chris waved me off as he drove into town 'for lunch' (I later found out it's custom for instructors to 'leave the airport' so you're not too nervous) and I was off.
My first three checkpoints marked off, I was golden.
-I passed directly over the Grand River at the bend toward the south
-I passed over the water tower in Newaygo.
-I was a little to the right of the bend in the railroad tracks as they veered north into Baldwin but, I corrected for it.
My fourth checkpoint. The radio towers? No where to be seen.
10 minutes.
20...(is that it? No.)
30...Scrambling to intercept the VOR "CRAP! How does a VOR work, again?!!"
I was lost.....at 5,000ft, going 120 mph in a light haze and I can't pull over for directions.
"I should be well north of White Cloud VOR by now and Traverse City should be in the area".
I tuned in the radio and keyed the mic, trying to not sound desparate, though my heartbeat was threatening to blow out my eardrums, "Cherry City Approach, Cessna Niner Four Three (I was in the Cessna by this time),"
Cherry City came right back, crisp and clear instead of the 'far away and staticy' that they should have been.
I announced 35 miles to the south (guessing) and asked for vectors to the airport.
They reported back to me, "Niner Four Three, visual contact(!!), 5 miles south of the airport. Turn to heading two eight zero for the runway."
I was off by 5 miles (excluding the 30 miles I had passed without realizing it.)
My second call informed them that I was a student pilot and they were more jovial with me - giving me my required 3 take off and landings before parking for fuel and signing my logbook as proof of reaching my destination.
I showed the fuel guy my charts and he says, "Oh. They tore those towers down a week ago...."
Nice.
A quick call to Lansing Flight Service to close my flight plan and to my instructor (who pretended to not know who I was) and I was off again toward home, following the GPS in the instrument panel (Not allowed to use it there, but can cheat on the way back.) ;D
Two weeks later (December 15, 2001) I met with Hugh, the West Michigan Flight Examiner to take the remaining two tests: A spoken test, and an actual flight.
That flight was so stressfull.
The rules are: The Examiner is nothing more than a passenger giving directions. (a passenger with over 50,000 flight hours)
He says tune into the VOR and follow it, you tune and follow.
You sway to the left or right, he doesn't say a word. It's up to YOU to correct it.
If you make a mistake he doesn't say a word. If you correct your mistake, he doesn't say a word.
If the Examiner has to take the controls from you,,,,YOU FAIL!!
2 very long hours later I held in my sweaty palm one 'Temporary Airman's Certificate' (or, 'Ticket' as it's known as in the trade)
The real one came in the mail two weeks later.
And, that's how I came to be a pilot.
I drive Semi, full time. I write (published), and I'm a Private Pilot.
I also tend to get long winded so, for those not interested in my stories and want to look up some cool airplane related stuff and/or take some flight related tests and quizzes, I've provided links right off the bat:
Courses and Tests
Learn to Fly
A quick quiz on GA weather and a chance to win a radio/scanner
Information on GA
Or peruse my personal pictures:
Mahnarch's Airplane Album
***
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was but a wee lad the day before my 24th birthday when a regular customer of mine came into the shop that I worked at and announced that he'd just gotten his Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) certificate.
I jumped at the chance to become his first student and went on an hour long 'Discovery Flight' with him.
That hour has since been burned into my mind for the rest of my life.
The smell of the inside of that airplane. The smell of the AVgas (100 Low Lead). Running my hand down the length of the propellor for the first time.
The sudden smoothness of the airplane as the wheels gently left the bumpy runway behind for my first ever flight into the open blue yonder, still etched into my mind.
The people slowly turning into ants.
That bird we almost hit!!
It brings back a fond and cherished memory and is usually followed by the memory of the year and a half that I spent going through O.K. Air Service, based out of Ottawa-Executive Airport.
**
My second flight ever was with a new instructor. My 'friend' had already become over-run with his own friends and co-workers and so he referred me to Chris #1 (more on the '#1, later).
Chris 1 was your typical, preppy instructor when I first met him. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black tie, black dress pants and carried a briefcase.
He went by the books through the introduction and setting me up into the system for rentals and classes.
We went through several hours of training (usually 1 hour a day, once or twice a week) until I got to my 11th hour in my log book.
I had been practicing basic manuevers: Wind correction, Turns about a point, S-curves along a road...and many, many, many Take-Offs and Landings (I spent three 'hours' doing nothing but T/Os and Ls)
Then, one day after I did 3 T/Os and Ls (where the last one I tried breaking the landing gear off), Chris non-chalantly asks me if I had my 'medical' on me (Medical Certificate required for flying) while we're idling on the runway (small port, little traffic).
Me: "Yeah."
Chris: "Give it to me!"
Me: "No!" (not wanting him to rip it up for that last landing)
I finally give it to him and he writes something on the back.
Chris: "Take me back to parking."
At this point I'm thinking I've screwed up one too many times and he's sick of it. He's letting me go.
I pull up to the building and he jumps out, really quick, and turns back to me.
Chris: "Now give me three more!
Me:".......what?" *death grip on the yoke*
Chris slams the door and runs toward the building.
Now it was just me and the Warrior (I was flying a Piper Warrior at the time).
I re--aligned with the runway and announced my intentions, "Ottawa Exec, Warrior, Three Niner Zero Eight Foxtrot, departing runway two zero, Ottawa."
I went over my guages time and time again. "Does everything read good?"...."What does 'good' look like again?"..."Did I just hear the engine misfire?"...
I pushed the throttle forward and the engine roared to life like a lion pouncing on his prey after hours of sneaking up on it.
Lifting my toes off the brakes the plane pulled me down the runway with a thrust I hadn't felt before. Sweat streaming to the back of my head, instead of pouring down.
Rudder's working already. Don't pull back, yet.
45 knots. Don't pull.
50 knots. Ease her back. Get the nose wheel up just a smidge.
55 knots.........silence. Except for the whir of the propellor in my windscreen.
I WAS AIRBORNE, BABY!!!!!
Climbing at a massive 350 ft/sec as opposed to the typical 200 when Chris was with me.
I soared over the highway, just off the end of the runway and turned to 'Downwind' (parralelling the runway the opposite direction of take off) when a voice came over the radio:
Chris: "She takes off a lot faster without my fat body in there, doesn't she?
Me: "I never realized you weighed that much!", I joked back.
Chris: "Hey, watch it little man, otherwise I'll fly with you every time!", he chided back.
I did three take offs and landings, solo, and came back to the ramp.
Chris jumps back into the right seat and says, "Ok. I'm going to show you what this puppy can really do...
For the next hour he was 'off the clock' and I rode along as he showed me several maneuvers that 'I should never learn'.
So, here I am, a newly minted student, an hour off of being signed to 'Solo' and I'm being taught how to make a paper cup float just off the dash, how to make the plane float downward like a falling leaf and how to 'Chop and Drop' (cut throttle, full flaps, kick the plane into a slip and drop like a rock....for when you come in too hot [fast] and high for landing.)
That was probably the best lesson I ever got. It taught me to not be too afraid of the sky and what exactly an airplane can and CAN'T do.
A week later I ran into the 'big city' to take the first of three required tests: The written - a three hour long test on a computer that's still running on DOS that tests your knowledge of charting, weather, mechanics of an airplane (easy for me, same as a car), and general airport knowledge.
I passed with an 85% - national average is 72%, with a minimum of 70% to pass.
After several more weeks I was signed off to 'Solo - Cross Country', where I could leave a 50 nautical mile (as the crow flies) radius of the airport and fly to other airports without an instructor but, the day after.......
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001.
I was grounded for 6 weeks and had to go back and relearn everything I had almost forgotten, plus a few new things that the government decided that we needed to do (since we were ALL terrorists, now).
New charts. New AF/Ds. New TFRs. New ADIZ. New rectal exploration tactics...New instructor, Chris #2.
In the three months off, Chris #1 got a job chartering light twins in Florida.
Chris #2 was fresh out of Delta/ComAir in Florida and was just as great as Chris #1, only funnier.
I suffered through background checks, fingerprinting, I.D.ing, and FBI profiling, etc....just to have the government say - a few weeks later - "Nevermind! We don't need all that stuff."
A few weeks after that I had taken back to the air, regularly, and was flying like I was on asphalt.
I flew several 'Round Robins' (Take off, fly to a far away airport, fly to another airport and return 'home') with Chris #2 and was signed off for my longest and most defining cross country solo.
I planned meticulously for weeks (2 of them, to be exact), checking the weather reports every morning. Calling Flight Service in Lansing every other day for an 'Outlook' and plotting my course with landmarks and time/dead reckoning techniques.
I was set. I knew my charts like the back of my hand.
I knew that the sky was going to be 'clear' all that day and I knew the winds aloft by heart. (I don't remember them, now,,,,it's been 6 years).
Chris waved me off as he drove into town 'for lunch' (I later found out it's custom for instructors to 'leave the airport' so you're not too nervous) and I was off.
My first three checkpoints marked off, I was golden.
-I passed directly over the Grand River at the bend toward the south
-I passed over the water tower in Newaygo.
-I was a little to the right of the bend in the railroad tracks as they veered north into Baldwin but, I corrected for it.
My fourth checkpoint. The radio towers? No where to be seen.
10 minutes.
20...(is that it? No.)
30...Scrambling to intercept the VOR "CRAP! How does a VOR work, again?!!"
I was lost.....at 5,000ft, going 120 mph in a light haze and I can't pull over for directions.
"I should be well north of White Cloud VOR by now and Traverse City should be in the area".
I tuned in the radio and keyed the mic, trying to not sound desparate, though my heartbeat was threatening to blow out my eardrums, "Cherry City Approach, Cessna Niner Four Three (I was in the Cessna by this time),"
Cherry City came right back, crisp and clear instead of the 'far away and staticy' that they should have been.
I announced 35 miles to the south (guessing) and asked for vectors to the airport.
They reported back to me, "Niner Four Three, visual contact(!!), 5 miles south of the airport. Turn to heading two eight zero for the runway."
I was off by 5 miles (excluding the 30 miles I had passed without realizing it.)
My second call informed them that I was a student pilot and they were more jovial with me - giving me my required 3 take off and landings before parking for fuel and signing my logbook as proof of reaching my destination.
I showed the fuel guy my charts and he says, "Oh. They tore those towers down a week ago...."
Nice.
A quick call to Lansing Flight Service to close my flight plan and to my instructor (who pretended to not know who I was) and I was off again toward home, following the GPS in the instrument panel (Not allowed to use it there, but can cheat on the way back.) ;D
Two weeks later (December 15, 2001) I met with Hugh, the West Michigan Flight Examiner to take the remaining two tests: A spoken test, and an actual flight.
That flight was so stressfull.
The rules are: The Examiner is nothing more than a passenger giving directions. (a passenger with over 50,000 flight hours)
He says tune into the VOR and follow it, you tune and follow.
You sway to the left or right, he doesn't say a word. It's up to YOU to correct it.
If you make a mistake he doesn't say a word. If you correct your mistake, he doesn't say a word.
If the Examiner has to take the controls from you,,,,YOU FAIL!!
2 very long hours later I held in my sweaty palm one 'Temporary Airman's Certificate' (or, 'Ticket' as it's known as in the trade)
The real one came in the mail two weeks later.
And, that's how I came to be a pilot.
