Before beginning our flight, Alex helped me to conduct the external inspection—this is a required part of the pre-flight checklist and essential for safety. This inspection begins at the front left of the plane and includes a visual check of every inch of the plane, including the body, the wings, the wing struts, the landing gear, the fuel tanks, the tail and the propellers. Other elements of the pre-flight external check include checking of the tires for tread depth and air pressure, hand-checking of all control surfaces (ailerons, flaps, rudders and trim tabs) to make sure they are not inhibited and that all hydraulics and cables are in working order), manual verification of fuel and oil levels in all tanks, and inspection of all intake valves and filters for any corrosion or dirt which might interfere with their functioning. For obvious reasons, Alex did the visual checks, but he showed me each one, explained its purpose and the consequences of a system failure—usually dire consequences that involved emergency landings, emergency personnel, insurance adjusters and probate judges. Alex allowed me to conduct the other aspects of the pre-flight external inspection—although he did double check my work—probably a good idea since I was itching to climb inside and get going.
After we finished the external pre-flight checks, I got my wish. We stowed Potter in the back seat—he got to ride on the actual seats, and we synched our belts, adjusted our seats, fitted our headsets and got down to business.

Before doing anything, Alex took the time to explain every wheel, every knob, every button, every display and every communication device on the complicated dashboard of the Cessna’s cockpit as well as the pedals and rudders at my feet. Once Alex explained each of these controls to me, I was able to use virtually all of the rudders, wheels, buttons and knobs, but of course, the visual displays and the view out the windows were not accessible. For this obvious reason, my flying experience would, of necessity, be somewhat limited. Alex would drive the plane on the ground, and he would take control of the plane back at any time he felt it necessary. (As an instructor, he would do this for any first-time flier, so I was very happy with these rules of engagement.) Alex also took responsibility for communicating on the radio. Although we did not file a flight plan and had no requirement to communicate with air traffic controllers, Alex stressed the importance of communicating with other pilots in the area, and of course, these communications need to take place clearly, accurately and quickly, so there is no margin for a rookie’s inexperience on the radio.

So after an hour of talking in the car, 15 minutes bent over the balsa wood model and 30 minutes learning and inspecting the plane, both inside and out, Alex toggled the Cessna’s master circuit, bringing the avionics on line, and fired up the single engine in front. Then, he directed me to move the plane onto the active taxiway with the use of the left and right rudders at my feet—on the ground, you drive planes with your feet—something I found hard to remember. Once we were on the active taxiway, Alex took over the steering, but he left me in control of the brakes, which you use for slowing and turning
Because the winds were light and variable, the pilots coming in and out of Fitchburg were using runway 32. It’s the longer of the two available runways, and its northwest heading has the fewest obstacles for planes to clear when taking off. With that decision made, Alex steered the plane to the end of the runway and called our departure runway, heading and planned direction once airborne. With that, he throttled up, and we were off.
This is the point where most people get really excited when flying for the first time, and I was no exception. The engine winds up to 1,200 RPM’s, and when the RPMs are up, the pilot releases the brake and engages the throttle. The plane begins rolling, and then it gets faster and faster. As we accelerated, Alex called out the readings for oil and fuel—there would have been time to abort the take-off if necessary, but everything was green, so when we reached 55 miles per hour, Alex called “Rotation,” and I eased back on the control wheel. This pulled up on the nose, and with that, we were airborne and climbing. Within 15 seconds, we were 200 feet above the woods of central Massachusetts, and two minutes after that, we were climbing through 2,000 feet.
At this point, Alex began directing me to fly the plane. This included some turns, some course corrections, and some rudder and wheel adjustments to level the wings and to adjust the airplanes pitch. Although I was enjoying this experience immensely, I found this part of the flight mentally demanding. I had so little experience, that I had to think about which control to use to raise or lower the appropriate wing—your hands are responsible for raising and lowering the ailerons which bank the plane left or right, and your feet are responsible for moving the tail rudder. Fortunately, Alex was there to make adjustments to my adjustments, and for 15 minutes, we were flying along a westerly heading with low mountains to our north and west and the town of Fitchburg back and to our left.
After 15 very short minutes, Alex announced that it was time for us to head down. I think the only slightly scary moment for either of us was when I followed his direction and pushed the nose down and to the right to begin a gradual turn back to the southeast. Unfortunately, I forgot how sensitive these planes are, and I put us into a fairly tight right-hand spiraling turn and a fairly sharp descent of 1,700 feet per minute—a typical descent rate is 500 feet per minute. Alex quickly leveled our descent and put us back on a southeasterly heading, until we joined the approach pattern heading south, at an altitude of 1,300 feet, and just west of the active runway—runway 32. After reducing speed to 75 and then 70 knots, and after decreasing our altitude gradually, we made a turn to the east and then one more turn to the north for our final runway approach. At this point, Alex bled off our extra speed and altitude, and I took the brakes as we touched down safely and without incident.
My last acts were to help Alex move all control switches into their pre-flight positions, to exit the plane, to retrieve a relieved Potter from the backseat and to help Alex push the plane back into its parking space and to secure the tethers—planes are tethered to keep them from driving or flying without pilots.

After it was all done; after we drove back to Boston; and after Alex and I enjoyed a fantastic celebratory dinner at Strega’s Italian Restaurant in Boston’s famous North End neighborhood; I climbed into bed in my hotel, and all I could do was think about this amazing day and this amazing experience.
For me, this little flight was the realization of a lifelong dream, but I’ll tell you, it’s only the beginning. I’m already thinking about what I could have done better, what I’d like to do differently the next time I get the chance to sit in the left-hand seat of this or any plane, and I’ve already told Alex that I want to come back for another try.
But my little flight represents more than me getting the chance to do something of personal significance. It validated Alex’s positive opinion about a blind person’s ability to fly, and once I tell them, it will change how my coworkers, friends and family members view me in particular (they’ll probably think I’m crazy) and about the capabilities of blind people in general. Hopefully, my experience will also send a message to all too many blind people who have bought into the myth that we can’t do many or most things that we would really like to do and that our sighted friends and colleagues take for granted. Maybe, just maybe, my experience will encourage others to try.
As for Potter: I suspect he’s just glad to be back in a nice cozy spot beneath the airline seat in front of my feet—sleeping away the hours as we wait for the professionals here at US air to get us back home to Phoenix, but maybe he’s having a pleasant dream about a fun twisting turning ride in the backseat of a little tiny plane that was driven by his half-crazy human. … Or maybe he’s just dreaming about his next bowl of dog food or the kids who are anxiously awaiting our return. Either way, he and I are both happy to be alive and well and headed back from our very exciting trip to Boston and the wild blue yonder above.

Rc Remote Controlled Helicopter

Rc Helicopter – Simulated Piloting For All Ages

This morning started off strong at 5am with a prayer session, but soon I encountered the pull of sleep and found myself dozing. I think I might need to rearrange my morning to make it work, but I really like the theme of starting and finishing each day with prayer, so we’ll see. Anyway, didn’t get p90x in this morning, so it will be afterwork again today. Plyometrics today, which I remember being the most tiring and the most akward to do at the gym, so I will get some looks for sure when im running around my towel.

I found this app for droid, so now I can do my wriitng on lunch instead of in the morning. Also, time training sasha needs to be injected to the schedule. Plus, I find myself continuing to crave more of a social life, and that will be hard to squeeze in…

I went and looked at jeeps today.  Unlimited sahara in blue w/ leather is the frontrunner, but this purchase will wait until august when I turn 25 and celebrate my insurance going down

• To spend 30 minutes at the beginning and end of each day in prayer
• To document my journey and build a habit of writing
• To complete P90x workout videos
• To begin to learn Chinese (I’m using Rosetta stone)
• To finish my pilot’s license
• To get back into ironman shape (not likely in 90 days, but I am going to do a half-ironman in 16 weeks)

            While we were assessing the work we had and organizing ourselves for the evening, our shift supervisor—who fields all calls and emails for new work–received three calls in rapid succession.  All of them were road trips.  One was a Learjet 31 that needed a horizontal stabilizer trim actuator (or “stab actuator”, for short) removed and replaced, one a Cessna Citation XLS with weak emergency power supplies and a failing inverter, and the final one was a Falcon 2000 with a landing light out, and requiring a Flight Management System (or, FMS) update—due monthly. 

            After investigating each case, we found that the Falcon was the prize pony, in this case—we keep updated sets of FMS databases handy, and we had a spare landing light bulb in stock. 

I volunteered to go, since I like the variety that road trips have to offer.  Typically, there are pros and cons to a road trip:  On the “Con” side, you’re working out of a box of your own tools, which typically in no way represents the actual amount of tools you have. It can become frustrating to get stalled during a job because you didn’t bring a tool that you already own, but did not know you would need.  If you should ever wonder why an aircraft mechanic has duplicates of some tools, this is surely part of the answer.  Another con is that you’re away from home, and typically on somebody’s ramp out in the middle of nowhere.  This is not a problem on a sunny, 70-degree day, but my shift has us working at night.  Out on the ramp when it’s pitch black and 25 degrees, the wind is gusting to fifty miles an hour, and you can’t complete your job without taking your fingers out of their gloves, it’s pretty much as close to hell as anything at one o’clock in the morning.

In my opinion, the pros of a road trip are simple:  I see places I likely would never have seen otherwise, and I have absolutely no problem getting paid time-and-a-half to sit in rush hour traffic—which invariably happens on an overnight road trip, since I’m usually heading back into the DC area around sun-up. 

I dispatched to Richmond, VA just as the sun was going down, and just in time to sit in evening rush-hour traffic, as I made my way down I-495 to I-95.  Three hours later, I pulled up to the airport, and fired up the aircraft’s Auxiliary Power Unit (or APU).  If it weren’t for the APU, this trip would be far more miserable.  The APU is an extra turbine engine on the aircraft whose only purpose in life is to provide electricity and warm or cool air for the aircraft when the engines aren’t running.

I made quick time of replacing the light bulb—it wasn’t getting any warmer, after all–and began loading the FMS update, one 3.5 inch floppy-that-isn’t-really-floppy at a time.  (The FMS disks update the system’s “knowledge” of every departure, approach, and GPS location of every airport on the planet.)  It took nearly an hour and a half, but as I sat in the pilot’s seat, monitoring the system’s progress, I couldn’t help but reaffirm my belief that the pilots have the best view in the house.  I imagined myself at 36,000 feet, over a landscape that is completely dark except for the lights of whatever city I can see from my perch…I imagined that I’d be monitoring exactly the same computer-screened instrument displays that I had to monitor at that moment…

And all at once, the aircraft finished reading and declared itself smart enough to fly for one more month. 

I systematically shut-down the avionics, the APU, and the aircraft’s batteries.  I took the aircraft’s logbook inside the airport terminal to finish up the paperwork and fax it off to Maintenance Control, and loaded the truck for the trip home.  I normally get off at 2 a.m., but I didn’t walk in the front door of my house until 8:30.  Rush hour was pretty bad that morning…just the way I like it.

At about 3:19 or so in this clip from CNN in London, they ask exactly that.  It makes me grate my teeth.  These people have no idea what they are talking about, and here’s why:  They have absolutely no details yet, and obviously nothing but the barest idea of the actual parts of an airplane.  They are subtly fearmongering the public into being nervous about an incident that was well-contained and superbly executed.

There are any number of reasons that damage of that magnitude could occur in a turbine engine–after all, you can see in the picture of the Rolls-Royce technician just how big the front fan is; now imagine it spinning between one and ten thousand times per minute. A turbine engine is a very tightly  bundled piece of machinery, with quickly rotating pieces fitted sometimes to within ten-thousandths of an inch of each other.  But engines are rigorously tested for such interruptions as a front fan blade fracturing, water ingestion, bird ingestion and hailstorm durability, and excessive heat operation before they are ever even installed on an airframe.  Occasionally, circumstances line up and a part might fail, as in this case, but the fact that people are listening to these newspeople ask the “important” questions without giving their audience any background at all is a massive disservice to us, and to aviation as a whole.

Many times they will link two completely unrelated incidences in completely the wrong way.  I watched one of the commentators wonder aloud if there was any link between this incident and the flock of birds that brought down a different Airbus–an A319–into the Hudson River.  Two different aircraft, two different engines.  But oh, the peril all of those people avoided!  Even if the engine would have come clean off (as it did at O’Hare Airport to a Douglas DC-10 in 1979), there are three others to provide ample power.  Aircraft design these days has come so far that it’s no accident that aircraft fatal crashes are down nearly 65% from ten years ago…but it rarely gets even a passing mention from the media, who continue to keep us nervous about flying.  Aviation is safe and we need as many people to use it as possible.  It makes me crazy to watch the “news” sometimes!

Many people think of taking care of an aircraft in terms of only fixing what is broken (or about to break) when needed, but a little preventive maintenance will go a long way.  The term “preventive maintenance” is actually defined by FAR Part 43 as a number of different actions–any of which a pilot is legally allowed to do.  It includes servicing, repair, and replacement of landing gear tires;greasing or servicing bearings with their required lubricant; servicing landing gear shock struts with air, oil, or both ; replacing elastic shock absorber cords on landing gear; replacing defective safety wire or cotter keys, and the list goes on.  A pilot is allowed to perform any of these actions without having to enlist the help of a certified A&P.  (A small sidenote, however–do not leave your safety wire tails like they are in this photo–they are most likely to be caught on someone’s skin, metal inside of fairings, or fluid lines if left as they are shown.  Fold them over at their ends so the wire is smooth and professional looking, and you will prevent later injury and damage due to chafing.  When done properly, this is called a “pigtail.”)

Obviously, it is critical to keep up with things like making sure tires are at their proper pressure, and windshields are clear and free of scratching or crazing.  But there is one thing you can do that will save you time and money, and breed pride and respect among those who happen to meet you on the flight line:  Keep your aircraft clean.

It is easy to let things like the finish of your aircraft go–after all, it’s a giant pain to scrape bug guts off your leading edges after every flight–but here are some easy and quick tips to prevent those guts and other junk from building up on your leading edges.  Some people simply use water and a Scotch Brite pad–a bad idea if you like your leading edges to be shiny. A small spray bottle filled with a diluted degreaser (such as Simple Green) and water does the job of cleaning off those bugs without having to put much elbow grease into it.  This also preserves the finish of the leading edges, which will dull over time with constant, abrasive scraping.  A quick walk with the bottle after each flight will prevent buildup, and negate having to get a belt sander to clear off the hardened and petrified bug guts.  Simple Green also works well if you have oil leaking constantly down your aircraft’s belly–dilute it in a bucket and go at the mess with a sponge and rags.  It takes some time and isn’t fun, but it will save you money in the long run because a clean aircraft finish will provide an immediate indicator of the source of a leak, saving your mechanic time during diagnosis.  Also, multiple leaks may be present that you are not aware of.  While small leaks from some places are considered “normal” or acceptable, even the smallest leak from other places could turn out to be catastrophic if not immediately addressed.  If one leak covers over the other, your initial indicator of the problem is lost.

Once the cleaning is done, the preservation begins.  Whether you use leading edge tape on your wings or not, it is a good idea to keep your aircraft’s finish clean and shiny.  Cleaning bugs from a clean, shiny leading edge is far easier than from an already-dirty and porous one.  Your aircraft will thank you in the way of looking great and standing proudly on the flight line if she (they’re always a “she” with me, I don’t know why) is polished and looking great, and the more slippery her finish is, the less drag there will be on her during flight.  You may even eek out an extra knot or two simply by keeping your plane waxed.

There are many different wax and aluminum polish products out there which can be applied either with a buffing wheel or by hand, but no matter which method you choose, remember these tips:  ALWAYS clean the area of dirt and debris first.  No sense scratching your finish while trying to make it shiny.  When applying wax or aluminum polish, move in a circular motion, and do not linger over one spot more than any other (particularly when using a buffer to apply).  Once, when I was hand-waxing a Beech 18 part-time to get through A&P school, I noticed a small change in the aluminum’s color in one particular area–I assumed it was dirt in the metal, and cleaned and polished even harder.  What I hadn’t realized was that the highly polished aluminum skin was made of Al-Clad, and I had rubbed through the pure aluminum (which makes up the top 5% of the skin’s thickness, and shines most brightly), and I was looking at the slightly different color of the aluminum alloy beneath it.  It could happen to you.  Don’t linger in one area too long.

Most waxes are applied the same way any automobile wax is–”Wax on, wax off”–but occasionally different materials require different methods or preparations.  Always make sure you read the directions of that particular product.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the finish of your aircraft will speak volumes about you before you ever get the chance to.  A clean, highly polished aircraft says that, even if you don’t maintain that finish yourself, you care enough to make sure that every detail of your asset is cared for.  That is the type of person people naturally choose to associate with–the clean, collected, professional person.  Make a great first impression by giving people exactly what they can expect from you, and it will pay dividends when the time comes that they actually meet you.

They make binders full of these approach plates, which are printed on the kind of uber-thin paper that Bibles are printed on, but still you must carry them with you in the aircraft wherever you go.  Think of it:  If you have to carry fifteen pounds worth of approach plates (not uncommon), that’s fifteen pounds of fuel you couldn’t, and while two gallons of fuel probably won’t make the difference between making a trip and not making it, it’s still nearly always better to have more fuel than not.

About twenty years ago, a FedEx saw the need to reduce to reduce the rediculous amount of paper in the cockpit, and had the technology to do it.  It began with a laptop, but from the loins of that idea came nearly every pilot’s best friend:  The Electronic Flight Bag (EFB).  This is basically a handheld computer (which is not always in a bag, despite the title) that has all of these approach plates and sectionals stored on a hard drive (typically as PDF files), and can quickly call up any approach plate or sectional (or section of a sectional) to accurately give you only the information you’ll need to safely fly your route and approach.  Many other companies picked up on the idea, of course, and now there are EFBs of every option and price range.  Most often nowadays, they are linked to satellites and provide a GPS location of your aircraft over the ground (in the form of a moving map), as well as real-time precipitation overlays which show your proximity to  any weather in the area–a real help to pilots, as a good percentage of accidents are, in fact, weather-related.  Many times also, they give you the option of filing or cancelling a flight plan online while you’re still in the air–even just ten years ago, you had to do it by phone from the ground.

So.  As a student, you’re taught to do everything by hand–starting from the absolute basics.  I believe this is still the smartest way to teach people to fly initially, particularly since the new student (I can tell you from experience) needs every understanding of how to keep from getting lost or in hot water up there.  It’s easy to do–if you are not sure of your position over the ground, it is easy to wander into a military munitions test zone, for example, without knowing it.  All of a sudden you’re face-to-face with a pair of F-16s, and have no idea why.  They have this form that basically looks like a flow chart of information, on which you would fill in the blanks with the information needed, and make calculations down to the minute  about when you will cross your checkpoint.  Very time consuming, but worth the lessons. 

So the basics are the way to start off.  But I posed the question to all of my pilot friends on Facebook:  With the advent of these EFBs, is it even worth it for the average General Aviation (GA) pilot to plan trips on paper anymore?  The answers I got summarily sided with EFBs.  One of my buddies who flies 757s even told me flat out, “I haven’t planned a personal trip on paper since I left (college).”

Another factor regarding flight planning ease and organization has been linked to price.  Garmin is one of the foremost authorities on GPS and avionics technology, and their EFBs range in price from around $2500 on up, depending on options.  Also, in most cases, you have to have a subscription to update all of these chart files that ranges from two hundred to five hundred dollars a year, depending on the provider.

But finally, things are getting easier (and cheaper) for GA pilots.  Technology is accelerating the ease of teaching (and further, the accessibility) of GA to many people who previously had not considered it to be on their radar (no pun intended).  One product in particular perked my ears up the second I saw it:  The Apple iPad.  I would never have considered buying this oversized iPod, this laptop-that-isn’t-a-laptop, except for one feature that it has–a huge, beautiful, bright, HD screen, and the ability to display and navigate pictures quickly, concisely, and with great versatility.  Obviously in the context of this article, it’s plain to see what (to me) is the iPad’s most obvious purpose.

The iPad-as-EFB will be realized soon enough, as Apps are being made available for pilots, by pilots at lightning speed.  These apps supplement all of the other programs that have forced an aviation cross-country trip to be more fun than work–websites like www.navmonster.com and www.fltplan.com let you put in your cross-country planned airports, and they literally give you nearly every detail you’ll need to make the trip.  They link you directly to current weather reports, special advisories, pilot reports (PIREPS)…these websites will even take the current winds and calculate your airspeed and times for you.  They’ve effectively done for pilots what the TI-83 calculator did for trigonometry.  And for a “mere” nine hundred bucks for the unit, twenty bucks for the app, and people making sectional PDFs available online (which you have access to in the air) for free, the Apple iPad is now top on my list of discount-GA-Pilot EFB choices.

I think it’s clear that paper-planning trips is a thing of the past (again, unless you’re a student–you need to have those skills to fall back in if your electronics quit on you to safely fly).  And of course, we flyers need to have safeguards in place against complacency, as complacency causes accidents.  But do you feel these new technologies will promote complacency, or will they actually make people more aware, more alert pilots because they have more information in a far more organized way at their fingertips?

The E6B Flight Computer, commonly looking like this:  is a fantastically confusing slide rule where all of the numbers exist to perform computations based on the context of the problem you are trying to solve, not just the parameters.  Every number runs in a circle, either in an outer ring or an inner ring, and every number will magically “tell” you the answers you seek, if you’ll only line up the correct numbers.  Also, there are absolutely no decimal places to speak of, so you have to do that for yourself…this computer literally uses the same numbers to answer every possible question in the universe.  We Christians have been sitting around waiting for the second coming of Christ for two millenia, and he’s been here all along!

Actually, I jest…this thing is a pretty amazing little thing to have with you in the cockpit, and it isn’t quite as difficult as I made it out to be to figure out.

So.

I’m getting to be friends with my “Whiz Wheel” once again, and Mary asks me, “Well, what would you do if you get out here and couldn’t pick out a checkpoint because it all looks the same?”  She walked me through the different things you could do to recover from getting lost while up there (calling up X frequency and asking if they have you on radar, looking around for anything that would suffice to discern as a distinguishing land feature, etc), but the main thing she stressed was to have a plan–an airtight, well thought-out plan–to execute from wheels up until you put her back in the hangar.  Sometimes people say things in such a way that they really stick with you; I’ll never forget that Mary told me this:

“The reason Sully saved a planeload of people is because he knew at every single point in time where he was in relation to the ground.  He didn’t dawdle when the time came to make a decision.”

And that’s absolutely true.  Chesley Sullenberger put a planeload of people into the frigid waters of the Hudson and saved every last one of them, while many lesser pilots have killed entire families by overshooting a runway and bursting into flames on days where it was eighty-five degrees and had rained a little–and they (most of them) had full use of both or all of their engines.  I would bet my right leg     that no one overshot a runway by having a solid, stabilized approach, current runway conditions, and a plan of action if things went awry.

How many times have you walked into an interview and been asked a question that made you go, “UHHHHHHH…….”   If it happens a lot, you may not have a clear idea of who you are, or what direction you’re headed.

I look back at my cross country trips as a student back in the day, and I swear, without GPS, my Cessna 172R would’ve carried me all the way to the crash site which, to paraphrase Ron White, “would be convenient, because that’s where I was headed.”  Now, I feel a renewed sense of confidence knowing that the best way to not get into trouble is to plan it out of the equation as much as possible and save myself the pain of ever getting there to start with.

If there’s one thing I’ll thank Mary for in the short amount of time we’ll have spent together, it’s that I’ll always make sure to try and keep my plan front and center…in “plane” sight.

Cars are a whole other story–a Ferrari or Lamborghini says that you’re the best of the best, an Aston Martin or Bentley says that you’re powerful, yet classy and refined…in the upper tiers of auto-dom, your ride speaks more of you than you need to for yourself.

I would say that the same is true for airplanes–my heart has always lead me back to aviation, and I believe that your airplane says something about you.  Of course, much of a person’s choice in aircraft is dictated by money–it is easy to spend the equivalent of two Lamborghinis on a nicely equipped, clean, fast airplane, and as such, 99% of jets are pretty much unattainable unless for business or to write off the depreciation for tax purposes.

I think it’s safe to say that anyone who likes the movie Top Gun would love to have themselves an Unlimited class P-51 Mustang

or Vought F4U Corsair    or an old, clean, vintange Stearman  

and don’t get me wrong, I’d love to fly either one–I even have plans to someday get myself an old bright Yellow Stearman or T-6 Texan.  But for me, the combination of the big radial engines, the beauty of the aircraft, the sheer class that it has, can only lead me to one long-out-of-production, glorious piece of art:  the “Twin” Beech 18.

One hundred percent American-made freedom right here.  She seats six to eleven people and carries them at 185 miles an hour in supreme comfort atop those glorious, polished aluminum wings, with those two nine-cylinder radials giving that throaty rumble that only a radial can…now this, folks, is a man’s airplane.  But not only to own, I should clarify–to fly.  To fly this plane, you have to have skills beyond the engineered forgiveness that airframes of the past thirty years have given to pilots.  This aircraft was modified to be a tricycle gear airplane as well, but I think she stands in all her glory as a taildragger.  The airframe has been out of production for thirty-two years now, and they are becoming increasingly harder to come by without having been in an accident, or left to rot on some long-forgotten airfield in the sticks.  The clean, well-kept engines and airframes can cost in the hundreds of thousands, and will fetch just shy of half a million dollars if they are museum quality and still together.  I’m guessing that my options will be either to find a semi-beat-up one that flies and use my A&P skills to fix what’s broken, and adjust what needs adjusting; or, I’ll be relegated to staging a full-on restoration–a lengthy, money-sucking hobby that will more than likely be the equivalent of my Dad’s backyard (he did all of the landscaping himself, and it took him fifteen years to do it).  And then a tornado will come through on the day I wax the very last little spot of aluminum.  Well, maybe not.  Parts are getting harder to find as well, so that’s another factor to consider.

Either way, that’s my goal.  There she is.  Behold the power of class and beauty, and maybe some day I’ll embody it the way she does.  Well–the class part, anyway.

What car, plane, motorcycle, piece of real estate, widget, or gadget do you consider to be your Unicorn?

I did the preflight (a mechanical checklist, basically…I’m pretty adept at those right now), and soon enough we were in the airplane (a Cessna 172), and getting back on the bike again.  Mercifully, she handled the radios today, as I would’ve been a little overloaded at times; as expected, there is a lot that I’ve forgotten.  We spent about 1.1 in the air.  Takeoff was easy enough, of course–airplanes are designed to fly, they just want to if given enough speed–and we took a tour over the area just north and west of Tucson.  She pointed out the landmarks and mountain names, and we flew right over the Silverbell Copper Mine (gorgeous from the air).  It’s really something to get your bearings on an area as vast as the country is from the air, where there are no signs to point the way.   When the time came to land, my approach was pretty sloppy (decidedly eight years old), but my final approach turned out to be pretty stabilized, and the landing was up there with any of my other best on the Grease-O-Meter.  (For anyone wondering, pilots usually refer to a really smooth landing as having “greased one in.”)  Like riding a bike.

Over all, the flight was everything I’d hoped it would be.  I got used to the aircraft and its quirks (it’s a 1967 model), and learned something about what skills I still have, and what I need to develop.  In a week, we’ll be up doing nothing but pattern work (takeoffs and landings) to get me current again, and after that, we’ll take a cross-country trip so that I can brush up on my trip planning skills.  With any luck, the cross-country will go smoother than my first solo one did, back in the day.  Feel free to ask about that one, if you have yet to hear the story and are interested.

I drove straight from the airport to my bi-weekly Toastmasters meeting, where I Toastmasted for the first time.  I had been slightly nervous about it since I’d only found out last night that it would be my role, but it was as easy as any Student Government or Phi Delt meeting ever was to lead.  I worked straight off the agenda, and the meeting ran itself.

I’m pretty proud of myself, I’ll admit.  I walked out of that meeting to my car, and had one of those cheesy moments when I smiled to myself and thought, “I’m finally on my way.”  I was nervous about getting back in the plane…but Mary assured me there was no need for it, and it turned out that there wasn’t.  I was nervous about the Toastmasters meeting, but  again–nothing to worry about.  Conquering fears, becoming stronger, continuing training…these are the things that I’ve chosen as my road to follow, and so far, I’m driving a Lexus down a brand new highway.

In a couple of days, I’m finally able to get back into an airplane as a student (thank you, tax return).  Being now in my late twenties (and a little more wise), I have gotten out my old Private Practical Test Standards (PTS) book, and begun the arduous process of relearning the things I used to know fairly well.  I am determined never to get caught with my pants down because of poor preparation, as I did so many times in school.  I’ll also have to adjust to the sheer speed that things need to be done–after all, as an aircraft mechanic we do literally everything by the book, with the manual detailing each step with verbage and pictures, and you have time to study it to make sure that your work is correct.  In the cockpit, many times, you don’t have that option, and your decisions could be life or death, or the difference between saving the aircraft or major damage.  Sure, you’ll pull out the Emergency Procedures checklist if your engine quits, but no matter how long you study it, gravity will still do its job.  In an aircraft, you have to know those procedures like the back of your hand.  But of course, that’s what flight training is for.

I have been fascinated by airplanes ever since I was a kid, and I noticed that, like most things you want and then get, eventually the novelty wears off, and you begin to take that thing for granted.  For me, that was flying.  I spent my whole life wanting to fly, and when I finally got there, I lost the enthusiasm to pursue a career that would suck the life and fun out of flying for me.  (Plus, I needed to build those practical skills that I was always so proud of my dad for having…I have, and I’m proud to have them as well.)  Once again, I have begun to take my mechanical skills for granted, as my job has sucked the ever-loving life out of the fun of fixing things.  I suppose I’ll eventually grow apathetic about flying once I get a job doing it to build time, but this time around, I have an entirely new set of skills on which to place a flight foundation.  Almost as soon as I realized I wasn’t content to do one thing for one company for the rest of my life, I realized I wasn’t limited to doing it, either.  And oh boy, once I realized I had more options than I knew, it set my imagination on fire.

What have you been putting off that will light a fire under your butt to go and do?

Environmental activists have blasted Harrison Ford for making “unnecessary” trips by air, following revelations he once made a jet journey to buy a cheeseburger.

The “Indiana Jones” star began flying when he was 52. After receiving his license, he went on to purchase several aircraft, which he keeps at Santa Monica Airport in California.

He recently revealed in an interview the extent of his love for piloting, telling Britain’s Live magazine, “Learning to fly was a work of art. I’m so passionate about flying I often fly up the coast for a cheeseburger. Flying is like good music; it elevates the spirit and it’s an exhilarating freedom.”

But the 67-year-old has come under fire from experts at Carbonfootprint.com over the comments, who are outraged he would make an airplane journey for such an “unnecessary” trip.

And Dr. Wendy Buckley, director of the Web site, has called on Ford to set an environmental example and cut back on his flying.

She tells WENN, “Flying is a huge source of carbon emissions and making unnecessary journeys by plane can no longer be seen as responsible to our environment.

I did it for the LULZ!

Anyhow, the poem describes the feelings one gets when piloting an aircraft, and I felt it today, even though I was merely a passenger reading about flying in a magazine.  I looked down from our vantage point at 38,000 feet (headed west, if you’re direction-vs.-altitude-keen), and saw a snowy, cottony blanket of clouds for most of the trip.   It drew my eye naturally toward the separation of earth and sky at the very farthest point on the horizon for a long while, and I marveled at what must be literally the longest sunset on the planet; when you’re flying west at five- to six-hundred knots, and the Earth spins at roughly 1,000 knots, it just never seems to end.  Once it got dark, and the sky above matched colors with the sky below, I saw a shooting star far, far off the left wing of the plane, that made me wonder if I’d been the only person to see it.  I wished on it, and smiled to myself about it.  My soundtrack didn’t hurt, either…I bought Brad Paisley’s new album, “American Saturday Night,” not long ago, and a song called “Then” was playing at the time on my iPod.  That song was the first dance that Allison and I shared at our wedding, as newly minted husband and wife.  (If you like today’s country music, I don’t see how you couldn’t enjoy the music on this album.)

Anyway, it’s a neat little memory that I keep with me to remind me of a certain point in my life–the broke-as-a-joke, newlywed point in my life.  Soon though, we’ll dig out of it, and start running on all 12 cylinders, and  get on with our biggest plans.  I’m sure of it.  Until then, old poems and new music seem to invade the consciousness of my goals…

The 2 seater aircraft will wow flight enthusiasts with the sleek design from both the outside and the inside. In addition to foldable wings which allows the owner to store it their garage, its interior is designed to have the look and feel of a sports car.

Those worried about safety can rest assure that in case of any emergency, a parachute can be deployed which will allow the plane to float to the ground.

With the FAA creating a new category of aircraft known as the Light Sport Aircraft and a new pilot license category known as Sport Pilot, the stage has been set for consumer recreational flyers. The estimated training cost to become a sports pilot ranges from $2,800-$3,500.

Selling for approximately $139,000, the A5 already has an order list that exceeds 350. Information regarding annual maintenance cost is not available. However, if one can afford the A5, we doubt that the annual maintenance cost will not be an issue, even in light of the current economic environment.

Or in the case of the van I was driving, an automobile Captain. Cause it’s kinda like a boat. Anyone?

Captain Howard's Navigational Course Book for British Columbia Coastal Waters

Navigational Course Books were the traditional equivalent of sharing GPS waypoints. For working mariners, a series of courses and locations were as good as a blazed trail. “Go this direction this far, until you’re at such-and-such location, then turn to course XXX for x miles, to clear that hazard, then…” The routes are no less valuable today.

And, being valuable, they were often kept somewhat jealously private. Sure, you might share one or two with a friend, but every good fisherman or tug captain collected his store of useful routes in a log of some form, building up a treasure of information. Every once in a while a retiring captain might publish a book with a small printing run, quickly snapped up by locals who really needed them.

One such text covers the BC coast, Captain Howard’s Navigational Course Book for British Columbia Coastal Waters: A mariner’s work book by Captain R.L. Howard of the Merchant Marine, ISBN 0-9687325-0-X. It was published in 2000, it wasn’t cheap then, and I have no idea if it’s still available for sale - it carries no publisher’s imprint, so it may very well have been published out of Captain Ron’s back pocket. The captain’s e-mail address at the time, published on the last page of the book, was howard at Saltspring dot com.

The book just begs to be wikified. It include 40 regular commercial routes, all of which are also useful cruising routes. Each route starts with a synopsis of the route, discussion of VTS requirements for each route, a weather to expect including particular hazards you might encounter, and other relevant information such as chart numbers. The routes are given each direction, for example Point Atkinson to Cape Lazo and Cape Lazo to Point Atkinson are Route 10, in step-by-step fashion. Then there is a table of notes about hazards along the route to be aware of, lights and buoys. Finally is the table of courses by turning points, including distance off, distance from the last turn point, distance to the destination, and true course to steer. Scattered throughout are notes and marginalia which may be helpful to the mariner.

In many respects this book is my model for the stages portion of this blog. But, because most of us are using GPS as at least one of our piloting and navigating tools, I figure it would be great to start collecting and writing both waypoint routes and course routes for many of the major stages of circumnavigating Vancouver Island.