Jay Honeck
November 26th 07, 02:42 AM
The rental 150 was a bit late getting back, and the sun was getting
low in the late fall sky. So, we sat around the FBO, basking in the
glow of Joe's newly minted Private ticket. One by one, folks stopped
to slap Joe on the back, or give him the thumb's up. In one fell
swoop, he had gone from "wannabe" to the "real deal" -- and everyone
knew it.
At last the Cezzna rolled onto the ramp, late, and we headed out into
the cold. One nice thing about flying rental birds on weekends is
that they are already WARM -- so we experienced none of the usual "pre-
flight shivers" that we always get in our plane.
Well, I should say, *I* didn't shiver -- Joe (for a change!) had to
perform the frigid pre-flight.
I, on the other hand, was busy swedging myself into the tiny 150's
right seat -- something I'd only done once before in my life. As with
my previous flight, I marveled at the TINY proportions of the little
Cezzna -- at 6 foot tall, there was simply no room for *me* in there.
Nevertheless, I managed to get my butt shoe-horned into my seat by the
time Joe had finished pre-flighting, and we were soon trundling out to
Rwy 25. After a quick-but-thorough run-up, Joe took the runway and
smoothly advanced the throttle until we were rolling down the runway.
With quicker-than-expected speed (in the cold air) we were off the
ground and climbing at a surprisingly steep deck angle. I looked over
at my son and watched as he calmly monitored airspeed and heading,
adjusting the trim wheel and making sure that we were on runway
heading.
After a few moments I looked over and noticed two things: (1) Our
airspeed was amazingly slow, at 70 mph, and (2) although our deck
angle was steep, we were only climbing out at 500 feet per minute.
That little engine up front was furiously churning up the air, but we
sure weren't getting anywhere fast!
Our flight to "nearby" Muscatine was interesting. Flying fully 55
knots slower than I'm used to, navigating solely by ded reckoning, the
scenery floated beneath us at a leisurely pace. After climbing for
what seemed like a long time, Joe leveled off at just 2000 feet --
only 300 feet above pattern altitude! The differences between flying
Atlas, with his beefy 235 horsepower Lycosaur engine, and flying this
dainty, over-loaded, almost kite-like trainer were remarkable.
Approaching from the Northwest, it seemed like we were too far east,
but Joe knew better. Slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) the Muscatine power
plant's smoke stacks emerged out of the ground haze, and Joe set up
for a mid-field over the top entry to Rwy 24.
Turning downwind impossibly close-in, he then proceeded to turn his
base leg equally close. At a somewhat alarming bank angle (typical
for a new pilot -- I did the same thing to Mary on her first flight,
many moons ago) he expertly rolled out onto final with the runway
smack centered in the wind screen. Despite a sporting crosswind, he
smoothly touched down at an impossibly slow ground speed.
We were planning to stop for a piece of pie, but the sun was getting
low. The flight that routinely took us 20 minutes had taken 35, so
pie was out, and we just rolled down the taxiway back to Rwy 24, and
departed.
This time we flew low and slow down a section of the Mississippi
River. I marveled at the wonderful view from the high-wing plane as
we hovered, seemingly motionless over the Big Muddy, at just 700 AGL.
After a few words about migratory birds and the rapidly setting sun,
Joe reluctantly pointed the Mighty Commuter northwards.
Even though I'd made this flight hundreds of times, with the sun low
on the ground haze it was very difficult to identify landmarks -- but
Joe had done this before. He simply flew North to a nearby familiar
town, and then "hung a left" to follow Hwy 6 all the way to Iowa
City. This was a type of flying I hadn't done in years, and it was
great fun!
The approach and landing at Iowa City was uneventful, and we were soon
parking on Iowa City's brand-new ramp. As the prop shuddered to a
stop, I looked over at my son's hands flying over the panel, turning
off the master and removing the key, filling out the FBO's required
paperwork, and marveled at the changes I had seen in him over the last
six months.
Just last May we had had a "heart-to-heart" talk about flying, trying
to determine whether he was *really* interested in taking flight
lessons, or whether he was just talking about it because he felt
pressured by his situation as the son of two pilots. Since he had
been raised totally immersed in aviation, and had no memories of NOT
flying in GA planes, even he had a hard time discerning whether his
interest was genuine, or whether it was simply something he was
expected to do.
From our end, we didn't want to see Joe start down the road toward his
Private, only to run out of enthusiasm and quit short of finishing
after spending thousands of hard-earned dollars. We told him in no
uncertain terms how hard it was going to be, between attending school,
working at the hotel, and participating in sports -- and painted a
dire picture of just how difficult the next six months of his life
would be.
Despite this, (or, perhaps, because of this?) he vowed to complete the
training -- and here I was, just six months later, sitting next to him
as he shut down the Mighty 150. To say I felt proud and joyful simply
didn't cut it -- I was ecstatic, joyous, and profoundly choked up.
The time has flown by with alarming speed. Just last week I was
reading to Joe as he sat on my lap. Six days ago I was teaching Joe
how to throw a baseball and keep his balance on a 2-wheeler. Five
days ago I was teaching him how to use a PC, and four days ago I was
demonstrating proper technique for lifting weights. Only three days
ago I was dropping him off at Boy Scout camp, and just yesterday he
was attending Civil Air Patrol meetings at my side. He's grown into a
fine young man.
And now, he's a pilot!
:-)
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"
low in the late fall sky. So, we sat around the FBO, basking in the
glow of Joe's newly minted Private ticket. One by one, folks stopped
to slap Joe on the back, or give him the thumb's up. In one fell
swoop, he had gone from "wannabe" to the "real deal" -- and everyone
knew it.
At last the Cezzna rolled onto the ramp, late, and we headed out into
the cold. One nice thing about flying rental birds on weekends is
that they are already WARM -- so we experienced none of the usual "pre-
flight shivers" that we always get in our plane.
Well, I should say, *I* didn't shiver -- Joe (for a change!) had to
perform the frigid pre-flight.
I, on the other hand, was busy swedging myself into the tiny 150's
right seat -- something I'd only done once before in my life. As with
my previous flight, I marveled at the TINY proportions of the little
Cezzna -- at 6 foot tall, there was simply no room for *me* in there.
Nevertheless, I managed to get my butt shoe-horned into my seat by the
time Joe had finished pre-flighting, and we were soon trundling out to
Rwy 25. After a quick-but-thorough run-up, Joe took the runway and
smoothly advanced the throttle until we were rolling down the runway.
With quicker-than-expected speed (in the cold air) we were off the
ground and climbing at a surprisingly steep deck angle. I looked over
at my son and watched as he calmly monitored airspeed and heading,
adjusting the trim wheel and making sure that we were on runway
heading.
After a few moments I looked over and noticed two things: (1) Our
airspeed was amazingly slow, at 70 mph, and (2) although our deck
angle was steep, we were only climbing out at 500 feet per minute.
That little engine up front was furiously churning up the air, but we
sure weren't getting anywhere fast!
Our flight to "nearby" Muscatine was interesting. Flying fully 55
knots slower than I'm used to, navigating solely by ded reckoning, the
scenery floated beneath us at a leisurely pace. After climbing for
what seemed like a long time, Joe leveled off at just 2000 feet --
only 300 feet above pattern altitude! The differences between flying
Atlas, with his beefy 235 horsepower Lycosaur engine, and flying this
dainty, over-loaded, almost kite-like trainer were remarkable.
Approaching from the Northwest, it seemed like we were too far east,
but Joe knew better. Slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) the Muscatine power
plant's smoke stacks emerged out of the ground haze, and Joe set up
for a mid-field over the top entry to Rwy 24.
Turning downwind impossibly close-in, he then proceeded to turn his
base leg equally close. At a somewhat alarming bank angle (typical
for a new pilot -- I did the same thing to Mary on her first flight,
many moons ago) he expertly rolled out onto final with the runway
smack centered in the wind screen. Despite a sporting crosswind, he
smoothly touched down at an impossibly slow ground speed.
We were planning to stop for a piece of pie, but the sun was getting
low. The flight that routinely took us 20 minutes had taken 35, so
pie was out, and we just rolled down the taxiway back to Rwy 24, and
departed.
This time we flew low and slow down a section of the Mississippi
River. I marveled at the wonderful view from the high-wing plane as
we hovered, seemingly motionless over the Big Muddy, at just 700 AGL.
After a few words about migratory birds and the rapidly setting sun,
Joe reluctantly pointed the Mighty Commuter northwards.
Even though I'd made this flight hundreds of times, with the sun low
on the ground haze it was very difficult to identify landmarks -- but
Joe had done this before. He simply flew North to a nearby familiar
town, and then "hung a left" to follow Hwy 6 all the way to Iowa
City. This was a type of flying I hadn't done in years, and it was
great fun!
The approach and landing at Iowa City was uneventful, and we were soon
parking on Iowa City's brand-new ramp. As the prop shuddered to a
stop, I looked over at my son's hands flying over the panel, turning
off the master and removing the key, filling out the FBO's required
paperwork, and marveled at the changes I had seen in him over the last
six months.
Just last May we had had a "heart-to-heart" talk about flying, trying
to determine whether he was *really* interested in taking flight
lessons, or whether he was just talking about it because he felt
pressured by his situation as the son of two pilots. Since he had
been raised totally immersed in aviation, and had no memories of NOT
flying in GA planes, even he had a hard time discerning whether his
interest was genuine, or whether it was simply something he was
expected to do.
From our end, we didn't want to see Joe start down the road toward his
Private, only to run out of enthusiasm and quit short of finishing
after spending thousands of hard-earned dollars. We told him in no
uncertain terms how hard it was going to be, between attending school,
working at the hotel, and participating in sports -- and painted a
dire picture of just how difficult the next six months of his life
would be.
Despite this, (or, perhaps, because of this?) he vowed to complete the
training -- and here I was, just six months later, sitting next to him
as he shut down the Mighty 150. To say I felt proud and joyful simply
didn't cut it -- I was ecstatic, joyous, and profoundly choked up.
The time has flown by with alarming speed. Just last week I was
reading to Joe as he sat on my lap. Six days ago I was teaching Joe
how to throw a baseball and keep his balance on a 2-wheeler. Five
days ago I was teaching him how to use a PC, and four days ago I was
demonstrating proper technique for lifting weights. Only three days
ago I was dropping him off at Boy Scout camp, and just yesterday he
was attending Civil Air Patrol meetings at my side. He's grown into a
fine young man.
And now, he's a pilot!
:-)
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"