Someone let the air out of my tire...and it wasn't me!

Yesterday and today I flew for the first times in six and a half weeks, a hiatus which has been primarily due to weather (and of course real life getting in the way occasionally, too). When I don't fly for two or three weeks, I feel strange and not as current as I'd like, so more than double that was quite uncomfortable psychologically for me. I went up with a CFI yesterday and was able to log two solid hours of flying, practicing landings at ever shorter and skinnier runways, all in an effort to conquer the (short, skinny) beast that is N07. (See below; photo credit Mr. Aviatrix on an IFR flight to Toronto.)

It looks tiny from 6000 feet but also from 1200 feet (pattern altitude) as it is 2,942 feet long (with a displaced threshold at one end) and 40 feet wide.

Yesterday we flew from N07 to N87, which is 4,275 feet long and 80 feet wide. I did a few landings there and then it was off to KSMQ, which is 2,739 feet long and 65 feet wide. I did a couple of landings there and then it was back to N07, admittedly a bit longer than KSMQ but 25 feet narrower. Along the way, my CFI taught me about some instrument basics on the G1000, putting in waypoints and looking inside the plane a bit. We also discussed how I was doing with my transition to the Cessna 182 from the classic Cessna 172; I finally felt like I was starting to feel comfortable in the 182, staying ahead of the plane, adjusting the manifold and propeller when necessary, understanding the use of cowl flaps, and all the rest that comes with flying this high-performance plane. Both the 172 that I trained in and the 182 that I fly with Mr. Aviatrix have an M in the tail number and I like to think of these as standing for "Mama" instead of "Mike," and I'm starting to really feel that bond with the 182 Mama. I was excited when we got to N07 and it was an okay landing, not terrible but certainly with room for improvement. We brought the plane back to the hangar and Mr. Aviatrix and I went for lunch.

This morning I made my way back to New Jersey for some early morning N07 patternwork. Things went pretty well, with my CFI staying silent next to me in the cockpit, bringing back fond memories of the days leading up to my first solo in the 172, knowing that I knew what I was doing. The wind picked up and the landings got a little wonkier, but nothing terrible. Also, and this is very important to note, as you'll see momentarily if you keep reading: Never, at any time, did I land on the nosewheel. I repeat, there were no simultaneous three-wheel landings, there was no banging down the nosewheel, and the nosewheel never touched down before the mains.

We finished up and began our taxi back to the hangar. As I rounded the corner to our row, the plane stopped rolling. My CFI suggested more power, and I tried that. He offered to give it a try, but the plane didn't move. As our airport is in an idyllic area of New Jersey, he thought maybe we had rolled over something or were in a rut, but even with all his strength on the pedals and pushing the power in, the plane wouldn't budge. Having an "Aha!" moment, my CFI exclaimed, "Oh I bet you have a flat tire!" (See below; photo credit The Aviatrix; flat as a pancake.)

Apparently this kind of flat tire is a common Cessna nosewheel occurrence, as a result of a pinched tube. I still felt like an idiot and like I had done something wrong. I made the mandatory, "I'm okay but..." to Mr. Aviatrix and the plane was towed to maintenance. In some ways, this flat tire has been a metaphor for the past week or so, so I'm hoping that with it fixed and 182 Mama rolling and taking off again I will be, too.

To Go or Not To Go

This is a post for my flying blog about not flying. Like many people, Mr. Aviatrix and I planned to go away for the long Memorial Day weekend. Although the time to drive to our home airport, preflight, fly, and drive from our destination airport to where we are staying would take longer than simply driving from door-to-door, like most general aviation pilots, we wanted to fly.

As we were flight-planning this morning, I had my doubts about flying instead of driving when I saw that the winds would pick up midday. My doubts increased when I called for a briefer and was notified of airmets for moderate turbulence and gusting winds at our landing airport. I'm confident in my aviation abilities but also keenly aware that I've had my ticket for less than two months. In addition, I hurt my back a couple of days ago and was concerned that getting bumped around would make it worse.

I know I don't need to make excuses for deciding not to fly. I know a lot of what can go wrong has to do with pilot error and pilot bad judgment. I know that it's good to subscribe to the advice that it's better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air than in the air wishing you were on the ground. I know Mr. Aviatrix knows this, too, even though he really wanted to fly today. I guess I just want to feel better about my minimums and limits.

Mr. Aviatrix has a private pilot certificate, an instrument rating, a commercial rating, a seaplane rating, Tailwheel and high performance endorsements, and close to 1000 flying hours. He's also about ready to take a glider checkride (he had one previously scheduled while I was down in Florida, but it was too windy that day). Therefore, Mr. Aviatrix's minimums, limits, and comfort levels are vastly different from mine. Readers of this are scratching their heads as to why he didn't just fly us out himself. The simple answer is that I don't like flying in small planes when it gets too windy or bumpy, as PIC, SIC, or pax, especially if a car could just as or more easily get us there. We are working on our Crew Resource Management, on the ground as we review ForeFlight on side-by-side ipads and interpret things slightly differently, as well as in the air, to have more clearly defined roles and true respect for the decisions of the PIC, whoever he or she is and however much experience he or she has. Mr. Aviatrix let me be PIC for the entire decision-making process, subscribing to some other useful aviation advice: Happy wife, happy life.

One small perk to driving instead of flying: We saw a B-17 Flying Fortress overhead, likely as part of Memorial Day observances this weekend and a reminder that we can do so much, including fly our little airplane, because of those who served our country. As Eleanor Roosevelt said in 1948, "Whatever else Memorial Day may be, it is a day for thought, for remembering those who have loved their country and loved its people. What they loved was the life that they lived and perhaps we can remember them best in promoting and preserving life and the standards which they held and craved for all future citizens."

Course Correction in the Real World

It has been almost a month since I obtained my private pilot certificate. Adjusting to life after training has been just that - an adjustment. Although I would head down to Lakeland, Florida for intensive bursts of training on sanctioned breaks from my real job as a professor and the actual time merely amounted to 1-2 weeks here and there, when I was there I was completely immersed in a world that was all about flying. The day I after I got my ticket, my husband, our dog, and I were supposed to fly our plane home (our dog would have been the flight crew, as she's adept as handling snacks). However, weather and illness grounded my co-pilot and canine flight attendant and I hopped on a commercial airliner since I needed to teach an 8:30 class the next morning. Having our dream of a triumphant - and cross-country timebuilding for instrument-training - flight home dashed was extremely disappointing. Leaving all my luggage and grabbing my backpack with my logbook and some other essentials for my little family to schlep back when they could made me sad for them and lonely for me. Plus, what a letdown! No one at Tampa International Airport knew or cared that I'd just become a pilot. No one knew all I had just been through. No one would talk about it with me. This was despite my attempts to try by mentioning it to strangers on line at the gate that I'd been in Lakeland to finish working on my pilot's license. When I travel commercially with my husband, he always charms our way into the cockpit, usually by explaining that we are pilots and that I am a student pilot; we have never been denied entry and the pilots are always exceedingly nice and supportive. They offer photos and once even insisted that I sit in the left seat and take a picture. But my husband wasn't there and I wasn't a student anymore and I just felt silly so I took my seat and hoped that I at least gave off an aviation-related glow.

Thus began what I think of as re-entry to the non-aviation world.

Re-entry back to real life has also meant less flying, since the weekends are the only available times at the moment, at least until this summer. The weekend after I returned to New York, my husband and I took our first flight together ever with me in the left seat. I want you to stop reading this for a moment and imagine what it has been like for you to drive a car with a spouse or a significant other...okay, now that you're back, you likely called to mind someone pressing their foot down hard on an imaginary brake on the right side of the car or grabbing the handle or armrest in a turn or exclaiming something to the effect of, "What are you doing?! You're going to get us killed!" Now imagine if you had to fly a plane with this person. This is why I think we did pretty well considering it was the first time we had ever flown a plane with me as pilot in command (PIC). My husband was being a well-meaning pseudo-CFI, and that was the right inclination considering that he has about 900 hours more flying experience than I do. I would compare it to having to go running with someone when you have done marathons and the other person occasionally power-walks, another experience he and I have shared (he's the marathoner). He also handed over our Cessna 182 without reservation, which in my family is like giving someone the keys to your pristine '69 Camaro SS without any preliminaries or caveats other than simply saying, "Just have fun, go as fast as you want, wherever you want." He wanted me to be more efficient with my checklist (I am slow at the moment, gaining in my confidence, and I'm a bit of an OCD-checker by nature), he wanted me to be more precise about my heading based on the glass cockpit CDI (I was only off by a few degrees at times - but trying to look out the window). Honestly, he just wanted me to be the best pilot I could be but we are looking for a good course on crew resource management. Suggestions welcome!

The following two weekends we attempted to fly, but the winds would not allow it. This was in contrast to my intense time in Lakeland when, if I couldn't fly in the morning or even the whole day, the very next day I was up and away. Now I have to wait an entire week until another Saturday or Sunday rolls around. Yesterday we tried for a third time and it was the charm: It was gorgeous. I was able to log 1.9 hours of PIC cross-country time from our little airport in New Jersey to another little airport in New York and back. And I was even to put together some furniture in our hangar. I can't wait to go flying again and I still can't believe I'm a real pilot in the real world.

The Aviatrix

It has been a while since I have written for this blog. I left our trip to Airventure continuing to feel inspired to learn to fly. However, work, life, weather, and those pesky landings that one must get right before soloing thwarted my best efforts in this endeavor through the end of 2014. I was feeling extremely discouraged, thinking I would never become a pilot – a feeling with which I was becoming all too familiar.

Towards the end of the year, my husband suggested trying an accelerated training program. We started researching them and were referred to Tailwheels Etc., a school at Lakeland Linder Regional Airport (LAL), aka the Sun ‘n Fun airport. After much careful consideration and studying for the written exam, I found myself and two huge suitcases boarding a plane for Tampa on January 9th. Little did I know that this was the beginning of a life-changing journey, a long journey comprised of multiple smaller journeys in which I myself would fly a plane for many hours and finally fly myself to the completion of my private pilot’s license.

Yes, you read that right: I am officially a private pilot. I passed my checkride on Saturday April 4th 2015. I am no longer The Wannabe Aviatrix, but now simply an Aviatrix.

The highlights and most salient moments:

1) My superb CFI, a young man in his 20s whose chronological age belied his instructing wisdom: He laid out the concepts of learning to fly on the ground and in the air in a clear, precise, patient manner. He was also a great motivator: When setbacks came, he faced my challenges with me and helped me to turn things around. He went above and beyond to make sure I learned as much as possible but also made sure I was having fun, taking every opportunity to remind me of the wonders of flight. And he had to do this for three separate timeblocks with me, in January, February, and March/April, because I ended up having to leave Lakeland and return a few times. During our January time together, he confidently sent me on my first solo. During our long weekend training in February, he helped me polish up my skills and build more required time. Finally, during our week together at the end of March into April, he helped me get to the finish line of my checkride. Blood, sweat, and tears went into this accomplishment (mostly tears and sweat), and he handled all the crying and sweating with the utmost professionalism, something that men twice his age don’t always do. The two of us were often teased around the school because I could not say enough about how fabulous he was; while most of the instructors seemed to be training young guys with more agile minds and bodies and less of a tendency to be embarrassingly effusive about their instructors, he was paired with this comparatively older lady. I think he got the better deal, but I’m sure I was not his usual student.

2) The school itself: Walking into Tailwheels Etc. on January 9th, I was terrified. I had no idea what to expect. I felt like I was joining the army (which I later learned was an apt metaphor, as the grueling training was akin to boot camp). As I walked through the door, before I could introduce myself, two people at the front desk already greeted me by name. They invited me to sit down and chatted with me as I filled out my paperwork. This initial lovely combination of professionalism and warmth epitomized the spirit of this school and what I experienced for my entire time there. In addition to working primarily and intensively with my aforementioned CFI, I had the opportunity to do stage checks and some ground school with some of Tailwheels’ other fantastic CFIs, as well as to do my high performance endorsement with one of the school’s owners who is also a mechanic and an excellent CFI. Essentially, there was always someone ready to fly, teach, listen, and support.

3) My first solo: I waited and worried and trained and waited and worried and trained and faltered and waited and worried and trained and succeeded for almost three years of cumulative flight school until finally taking off for my my first solo flight around the LAL traffic pattern on the morning of January 19th. It was just like everyone said it would be: nerve-wracking, exhilarating, scary, freeing and just pretty unbelievable. As I taxied from the Tailwheels ramp to runway 5 for takeoff, I exclaimed aloud to myself, “I’m in a plane alone!” I counted aloud each of my three (very nice) landings and had tears in my eyes taxiing back to take photos in front of the plane. It was truly one of the best days of my life.

4) My last solo cross-country before my checkride: The day before my last solo cross-country before my checkride, I thought I had completed the required solo cross-country time. However, I was 0.2 hours short of the 5 hour solo cross-country requirement. I was devastated, as I wanted to move on to the final stages of my training. As other pilots know, in order to acquire those 0.2 hours, I could not simply fly for 12 minutes, but rather had to do an entirely additional cross-country (a trip of a minimum of 50 miles to another airport and a landing there). The flight itself wasn’t the highlight, but finally finishing that time requirement sure was!

5) The Stearman: Not much needs to be said about this storied biplane, so I will just provide the facts: Tailwheels has a gorgeous one. I was offered a ride in it on a day when I was feeling particularly dejected, frustrated, and anxious and absolutely sick of flying. I went kicking and screaming. I had the time of my life on that flight and can’t wait to go up again.

6) The people: I am back on the island of Manhattan as I write this, previously my favorite place on the globe, and I am missing many of the individuals I had the privilege of meeting in Lakeland. So many of the people I met at the school, including owners, CFIs, the office manager, support staff, and fellow students continually had time for me and encouraged me unwaveringly, even in the face of my tears and insistence that I would never get my PPL. I learned so much, including but not limited to different ways to think about flying, that time away from my CFI every once in a while could be a good thing, how not to take myself too seriously, that we fly because it’s fun, and overall that I could in fact become a pilot.

7) The moment the checkride was officially over: I inferred that I had passed when the examiner and I taxiied off the runway after landing back at the airport where the ride started without his having mentioned needing to discontinue the exam, but he wasn't saying anything. Once he finally confirmed that I had passed, I burst into tears of joy, relief, and disbelief. I even asked, "Are you sure?" It was surreal, as was receiving my Temporary Airman's Certificate - my official private pilot's license. Realizing that all of my very hard work had paid off and that I had finally achieved my goal was an indescribable feeling - "euphoria," "ecstasy," and "rapture" just do not do it justice.

8) My biggest cheerleader: Last, but certainly not least, my husband imbued this experience with his constant support and unwavering belief that I could accomplish my dream of obtaining my PPL, a dream that he first inspired that fateful day almost three years ago that he turned to me in a plane he was flying and asked if I might want to learn to fly one myself. As many times as I told him I would never be a pilot, he told me I could and I would and he would not let me give up. He was there the entire time in spirit and he made a special effort to be there in body the week I finished and I will never have the words to thank him for helping me to stop being the Wannabe and become simply the Aviatrix.

The Wannabe Aviatrix Wants to Be Even More

I'm writing this sitting adjacent to a runway at KOSH, which is usually known as Wittman Regional Airport in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. If you've been reading my other posts, you know that people haven't been calling it that this week, but rather have been referring to it as Airventure.

We flew in on Friday morning, according to the rules of a very unique NOTAM which included instructions for watching for lots of other air traffic and not talking to ATC when they talk to you, but rather just rocking the wings of your plane to confirm receipt of instructions. My pilot husband truly impressed me with his consistently expert flying paired with our unique circumstances of flying into the busiest airfield in the world (that week). Although we were more than prepared by the NOTAM to follow aircraft in and maintain separation, as well as to adhere to any accompanying instructions from ATC, it turned out that we were the first ones in from our group approaching KOSH. The number and diversity of aircraft flying in behind us, for whom we had to promptly land halfway down the runway and taxi off more than made up for the lack of traffic ahead of us. My husband executed a beautiful landing on runway 36R (right-hand side runway) and away we went to the camp site.

There is so much I could write about all of the exciting, strange, historical, and just plain cool aviation I have witnessed this weekend - too much. Instead I will relate some highlights:

1) STOL! Our first night here, my husband asked if we could watch a STOL demonstration. I was game - my plan and actions were to be up for whatever exhibits he wanted to see this weekend as this trip is truly his aviation fantasy. The only way I can describe this experience is to compare it to that night that your friends want you to go to that party on the lower east side and you think you are definitely not doing that, as you have already picked out the sweatpants you will be wearing along with the ice cream you will be eating as you catch up on the latest Real Housewives drama. For some reason, they convince you to go and you don't redo your hair or even change out of that pajama top that goes so well with those sweatpants. You figure you'll spend 45 minutes at the party, an hour tops. And then you spend all night talking to the cute guy you met who ends up being your husband. No, I didn't meet someone new at Airventure! I met something new - the Just SuperSTOL aircraft. This is an airplane that specializes in Short Take-Offs and Landings (hence "STOL"). These planes are light and fly low and slow and, as the name indicates, require little runway length for taking off and landing. Watching them take off and land and fly the grass-strip pattern was like being back in muscle car-racing. This is the type of plane I want to fly, this is the way I want to fly, bouncing down on bush tires like slicks on a Camaro. Hard to explain, so settle for a few photos until I can tell you more next time:

2) Camping? Camping on an airfield is not my preference, especially since our mattress pad refused to fully inflate and we are parked equally far (and I mean far) from the makeshift bathrooms and the portapotties. However, one of it's charms is the alarm clock of planes landing and taking off by 6am. I truly mean this, as I am a morning person and a morning that starts with watching the orange orb of the sun compete for space in the sky with dozens of prop planes, sleek jets, and massive military aircraft buzzing for attention is pretty special.

3) The People. From the amazing team at Just Aircraft (SuperSTOL!) to the 99s female pilot who encouraged me to keep up with my flying and told me about her mother who was a WASP to the kind Canadian guys with telephoto lenses at the night airshow who could start a side business of selling professional prints, everyone we met could not have been kinder or more interesting. Like many other huge events, the people that you meet at Airventure are a massive part of the experience and this weekend did not disappoint. We also did our part to dispel the rumor that New Yawkers are rude! 

Standby for the next radio frequency and airport code...

N07 to KORH to CYSN

If you've been reading, you know that I was about to embark on a week-long flying trip to and from Airventure in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. The title refers to the codes for the airports we've utilized up to this point. N07 is Lincoln Park, New Jersey, KORH is Worcester, Massachusetts, and CYSN is St. Catherine's Niagara Falls, Canada. 

We stopped in Massachusetts to drop off our dogs for a week at their birth kennel, a fantastic sled dog kennel and breeder in Brookfield, Massachusetts. They will spend the week with their biological brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, and nephews, as well as the father and uncle of one of each. They'll get to run and play and run in harness. They'll receive belly rubs and better food that we give them, since oftentimes the kennel mother makes their food from scratch. At night they'll get to participate in group howls before they bed down, and in the morning they'll get to sniff the cool air and feel the wind ruffle their fur. Sounds pretty amazing, right? Like a sleepaway canine camp adventure, no? One of our dogs would agree with you, and this is evidenced by the clicking back of her ears and the huge smile that quickly spreads across her face once the realization hits that we are heading to the kennel. Our other dog is more like a clingy child who would rather be with her parents, like that kid in the classic 80s film "Sixteen Candles": His parents force him to go to the dance, pushing him into the gym. He bangs on the doors that they are holding shut, screaming, "I wanna be with you guys!" The joke is that he should want to have fun and be with kids his own age, maybe even get into a little trouble. That is what we would love for this dog, but she spent the entire time that we were packing and getting ready to leave the apartment following me around with a worried look, as if to say, "Where are you going? Am I going with you?" She even tapped me with her paw several times, seemingly trying to remind me that she was there. I kept petting her and telling her she was going to camp and would have a great time with the other dogs. I said it would only be a week and would go so fast. I felt just like my mother before I went to sleepaway camp when I was a kid, as I spent the first few summers feeling achingly homesick, crying all night before the day I left, as well as all day visiting day. 

The drop-off was successful, with our homesick dog handling it better than usual. Then it was back to the plane for a 2.5 hour flight to Canada - my first international general aviation excursion! This is what I saw under the wing as we were waiting to taxi:

Those are corporate jets waiting to take their lucky passengers to a meeting, for a golf game, or wherever else they wish to go. We obtained our IFR (instrument flight rules) clearance and held short on the runway. Once given permission, we took off with a planned ascent to 3000 feet. We were soon given instructions to ascend to 6000 feet, which was our altitude for most of the trip. 

As always, it was awe-inspiring to look down and see cars, trucks, houses off of perfectly rounded cul de sacs, rivers, farms, and even part of Lake Ontario. It felt very calm and relaxing. Then some excitement started: We were monitoring "guard" (the aircraft emergency frequency on the radio), something my CFI recommends, as do other pilots, not expecting to hear much of anything. Suddenly we heard a pinging noise, kind of like a pinball machine beeping over and over and over. We thought it might be an emergency locator transmitter (ELT), which is a signal aircraft can send out when they are in distress. My husband made a radio call to ATC to let them know and the kept in touch with us, asking us to keep an eye out for smoke or a plane in distress on the ground. My husband let me make some of the calls as the sound continued for about 10-15 minutes of our flight. Eventually it stopped and we are still not sure what happened, but we of course hope that it was someone testing it or hitting the switch by accident. After the nervous system arousal of hearing a possible ELT on the radio, we soon heard another unusual radio call: Another pilot had spotting a hot air balloon flying at 6500 feet, which is a relatively high altitude for that type of aircraft. My husband and I looked at each other in wonder...and then we saw it ourselves! He let me call it in to ATC, who then asked me for its position. Again, I hope that was a planned flight for that aircraft, but it was unusual to hear about and to even see.

Today we visited Niagara Falls, taking a boat into the falls, a trip that is not recommended without the garish disposable rain ponchos they give out prior to boarding. We were soaked by the mist, a kind of baptism for our trip. 

A storm is currently rolling through, complicating our pan to fly to Chicago this afternoon. He is what it looked like from our hotel room (note the falls in the background):

Stay tuned for the update about our flight to KPWK (a small GA field in Chicago)!

Oshkosh B'gosh

I have spent the last week or so mentally, physically, academically, organizationally, emotionally, and practically getting ready to fly with my pilot husband to Airventure: http://www.eaa.org/en/airventure. Airventure is what I like to call "Woodstock for Aviators," a week-long festival in which more than 10,000 airplanes gather at what is usually a small airport in Oshkosh, Wisconsin for airshows, workshops, lectures, formal and informal gatherings, and airshows. There is every type of aircraft you can imagine from small Cessna 182s and Diamond DA20s to private jets to even a DC10 that doubles as a hospital. There are old and new warplanes, sleek planes used in airshows, and biplanes that require a leather helmet and goggles (and I think a silk scarf and leather jacket, but that's just my opinion). There are even a number of "experimental aircraft," many of which people have built themselves from kits. In addition to tens of thousands of airplanes lined up in various parts of the field, hundreds of thousands of people show up, and many of them camp out. The most sought-after camping spot is next to one's very own airplane, especially if it is a high-wing, because then you can sit under the wing and benefit from some shade. This is what we will be doing with our Cessna 182, hopefully as of Friday morning. We are leaving the New York area tomorrow and heading to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, followed by Chicago, and ultimately the unique experience of flying into Oshkosh, a one-of-a-kind busy moment which requires intensive study of the NOTAM (Notice To Airmen) and understanding that the air traffic controllers will be talking to you and telling you what to do and you will be rocking your wings and not talking back because there is too much activity on the frequency. The results of this intensive study also require understanding that what ATC may say to you will likely involve landing on a brightly colored dot on the runway rather than getting to take the whole thing because there are so many aircraft arriving. We did this once before two years ago and it was extremely exciting to see all the planes around us, feel our wings rocking, and to land on a neon green dot, which was huge once we were on the ground. As I prepare for this trip, consulting my packing list which includes items like my passport, my logbook, a pillow I don't care much about since it will get dirty from sleeping on the ground, and a fancy dress for a special dinner on Mackinac Island on the way home once the camping portion is over, I am reflecting on how different my life is from two years ago when I first participated in this adventure. Sure I could follow up with the obvious commentary about being married now, or even mention that I am preparing to apply for tenure at my academic institution - both momentous life events. However, my life seems most different because I have been learning to fly. I can say today is that I officially have 39.8 flight-training hours. That missing .2 - 12 minutes - is really irritating me as I pack and think about the activities I'd like to do and the conversations I will be having with the people I meet, many of whom will be supportive that I am a student pilot and will ask the same questions that my friends and family check in about regularly: "How many hours do you have? How much longer do you think it will be? Have you soloed yet?" Unlike getting older, where 40 is something you avoid and screech the brakes toward, 40 here is a milestone. 40 is a nice round flying number, and it's also the minimum number of hours required to obtain your private pilot's license. Weather, plane repairs, my husband needing to take the plane himself, and general life have just gotten in the way the past couple of weeks, or I would likely have 43 or 44 hours, which of course would be even better than 40. But I have 39.8. I've even been wondering is there a way I could go up in one of the warbirds or showplanes that you pay for rides in and convince them to let me fly left-seat and sign off my logbook for me. Regardless of my missing those 12 minutes, I am excited and nervous to go to Airventure for the first time as a student pilot, as a part of a very special community. I am even more excited to represent the small percentage of women who are pilots, working on becoming pilots, or simply fantasizing about it and not sure how to begin. I may even tell people about The Wannabe Aviatrix!