The last time I posted here was a week ago to report on my introduction to tailwheel flying after I had logged one hour of it in a Super Cub. This post is being logged after almost a full, second day of working on the tailwheel endorsement during which I logged more excellent learning and discussion on the ground along with two full hours and eighteen landings in that very same Super Cub. I can confirm that, of my 138 total flying hours, this is still the most fun I've had flying an airplane, even when things got tough...which they are bound to do just starting this out and learning to tap the rudders to keep the plane straight during takeoff and landing rolls as well as learning three-point landings where you put the plane into an attitude of trying to land the tailwheel first. In fact, today was even more fun than the last time because some of the skills are beginning to gain traction. My clumsy climb into and out of the tandem cockpit raised up on bush tires is even starting to look slightly less clumsy, although I imagine I still need many more climbs before I can look like I know what I'm doing.
Going from flying a glass cockpit G1000 C172 and C182 for most of my hours to the steam gauge Super Cub with a completely different sight picture and even way of sitting near my CFI (he sits behind me instead of to my right) has been truly refreshing and I can already notice ways that it is improving my flying:
1) I look outside more because the computer bells and whistles of the two G1000 screens are not pulling my eyes inside and down. Today this was especially tempting as we flew with the cockpit door open. There is nothing like feeling the wind against your skin as you fly an airplane and actually feel like you know what you're doing. I felt so free...and pretty cool.
2) I keep in mind that the plane is ahead of the instruments and that the G1000 is fibbing a bit because it can't possibly be as accurate about altitude and airspeed as it's saying. In a steam gauge plane, the needles are giving me the information and they are just about right but I don't focus on the minutiae of their numbers. For example, for the takeoff in the Cub, I push the throttle forward, let the stick go, feel the tailwheel come up on the roll, feel the stick move forward with a little tension, and then I know it's time to pull the stick back and take off.
3) I can't see over the nose during takeoffs and landings - the two activities that comprise the bulk of the tailwheel endorsement training. Instead, I must look at the periphery of my sight picture, at 10 and 2, at the runway, at the parked planes, at the lights on the side, and at the grass. In other words, I must take everything in and not zero in on the runway, something that I tend to do in the Cessna trike gear aircraft (and apparently I'm not alone). I would say I can't wait to see how this improves my flying the next time I fly the 182, but I'm much more excited to fly the Super Cub again. I almost don't care if I never get to fly the 182 again!
There are so many more things I'm excited about and have learned about tailwheel flying. Of my 18 takeoffs and landings today, only one was on a paved runway, so one more thing I've learned is that I would really love to find a way to have a home with a grass strip in the backyard.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Saturday, September 12, 2015
The Funnest Flying Post Ever
Superlatives are appropriate for descriptions of aviation and I definitely use them. I've applied them to the "biggest" plane I've ever seen up close (a C5 at Airventure), the "best" flying moment I've ever had (up to this point, still the moment I passed my PPL checkride), the "bumpiest flight" (a windy flight to Gabreski Airport in a Cirrus with Mr. Aviatrix at the controls and doing a great job), the "most inspiring flight" (my first ever in a small plane with Mr. Aviatrix at the controls taking me on a date to lunch at Orange County Airport), the "scariest" flight (first solo cross-country), the "most restorative" flight (my first-ever ride in an open cockpit aircraft and in a Stearman provided by one of the wonderful, supportive owners of Tailwheels Etc. towards the end of my PPL training when I just thought I wasn't going to be able to finish and had the ample sweat and tears that day to back that feeling up), and the "coolest" aviation experience (watching the STOL competitors recreate the Valdez competition at Airventure) [see photos]:
Today I can add "funnest" to my list of aviation superlatives (the grammar police aren't sure if it's a real word, but I'm risking it). As of today, my funnest flight was in the front seat of a PA-18-160, aka Piper Super Cub, a classic tailwheel aircraft. If you heard someone in rural New Jersey whooping and yipping around 9:45 this morning, it was me taking off in the one at Andover Aeroflex as the tailwheel came off the ground and I gently pulled the stick back to climb into the air. I wasn't whooping so much when I had to climb into the thing, with its 29" bush tires and my 62" height, but I made it in and it felt like where I was meant to be. We worked on S-turns and fast-taxis on the ground, working to control that slippery, slithering tailwheel on the ground. As anyone who does tailwheel flying can attest, touching the wheels to the runway in the landing is just the beginning; once you're down you need to control the airplane to taxi it straight.
I brought a confidence to today's flying that I just haven't had in our C182, maybe because the plane is lighter and more in tune with the sky or maybe because this is the kind of flying I have wanted to do ever since my "coolest" experience at Airventure watching those pilots do their STOL flying. As the fantastic CFI and tailwheel expert (and something of a regional celebrity) with whom I trained today said, it's "like you're wearing it," which I think of as putting on your own wings and truly flying through the sky. Communing with the sky and nature and focusing on this purest of aircraft provided the feeling of "flow," a term coined and studied by psychologist and professor Dr. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I am a psychology associate prof myself, so must throw these references in from time to time). This is the sensation I seek and often get when I fly, the feeling that time and stress both pause as I focus on doing an engaging activity that requires my focus and concentration and that I love. It even gave me a research idea or two once I was back on the ground and out of the plane...
Today I can add "funnest" to my list of aviation superlatives (the grammar police aren't sure if it's a real word, but I'm risking it). As of today, my funnest flight was in the front seat of a PA-18-160, aka Piper Super Cub, a classic tailwheel aircraft. If you heard someone in rural New Jersey whooping and yipping around 9:45 this morning, it was me taking off in the one at Andover Aeroflex as the tailwheel came off the ground and I gently pulled the stick back to climb into the air. I wasn't whooping so much when I had to climb into the thing, with its 29" bush tires and my 62" height, but I made it in and it felt like where I was meant to be. We worked on S-turns and fast-taxis on the ground, working to control that slippery, slithering tailwheel on the ground. As anyone who does tailwheel flying can attest, touching the wheels to the runway in the landing is just the beginning; once you're down you need to control the airplane to taxi it straight.
I brought a confidence to today's flying that I just haven't had in our C182, maybe because the plane is lighter and more in tune with the sky or maybe because this is the kind of flying I have wanted to do ever since my "coolest" experience at Airventure watching those pilots do their STOL flying. As the fantastic CFI and tailwheel expert (and something of a regional celebrity) with whom I trained today said, it's "like you're wearing it," which I think of as putting on your own wings and truly flying through the sky. Communing with the sky and nature and focusing on this purest of aircraft provided the feeling of "flow," a term coined and studied by psychologist and professor Dr. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I am a psychology associate prof myself, so must throw these references in from time to time). This is the sensation I seek and often get when I fly, the feeling that time and stress both pause as I focus on doing an engaging activity that requires my focus and concentration and that I love. It even gave me a research idea or two once I was back on the ground and out of the plane...
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Flying High Upon the Wings of Love
Yesterday I resumed some IFR training, including attempting my first instrument approach with my CFI talking me through it. I can definitely understand why IFR student pilots are so exhausted after training sessions - scanning those instruments, orienting oneself, listening to the radio, and executing a landing after 'breaking out' (of the clouds) requires a lot of mental energy. After my training session we returned to N07 for a quick lunch and a call for a flight briefer for an afternoon trip.
Once our lunch was finished, I had my briefing, and our car was all tucked away in the hangar, I climbed into the left seat of our C182 for my afternoon mission: fly Mr. Aviatrix and our dog to KFOK, also known as Francis S. Gabreski Airport in Westhampton Beach, New York. This was only my third time flying Mr. Aviatrix anywhere and I had never flown with our dog in the backseat, so I was a bit nervous.
It was an approximately 80 mile, 40 minute flight that included some time over the Long Island Sound. We divided up the responsibilities before we left: Mr. Aviatrix would handle the radios as well as the fuel-air mixture. I would fly the airplane. We would both look for traffic. I am happy to report that the flight went very well and I even had some moments of relaxing, enjoying the view, and chatting with Mr. Aviatrix as we were flying. He was an exemplary SIC and was so helpful and supportive, sweetly repeating over and over, "You're doing great! You're doing great!" The only time I didn't believe he felt that way was on my landing when he tried to "help" with the flaps; I was annoyed in the moment but I understand his impulse to want to make sure it was the perfect landing, as well as to rely on his own habits and ways of doing things. As in many other situations in life for most people, I'm sure sometimes it was difficult to relinquish control. This was our best flight together with me as PIC yet. In some ways, this was the flight that made me feel like a real pilot, more than when I passed my checkride, because it was just a regular trip from one place to another, flying real passengers, simply for the purpose of getting somewhere...getting somewhere in the most fun way possible of course!
Once our lunch was finished, I had my briefing, and our car was all tucked away in the hangar, I climbed into the left seat of our C182 for my afternoon mission: fly Mr. Aviatrix and our dog to KFOK, also known as Francis S. Gabreski Airport in Westhampton Beach, New York. This was only my third time flying Mr. Aviatrix anywhere and I had never flown with our dog in the backseat, so I was a bit nervous.
It was an approximately 80 mile, 40 minute flight that included some time over the Long Island Sound. We divided up the responsibilities before we left: Mr. Aviatrix would handle the radios as well as the fuel-air mixture. I would fly the airplane. We would both look for traffic. I am happy to report that the flight went very well and I even had some moments of relaxing, enjoying the view, and chatting with Mr. Aviatrix as we were flying. He was an exemplary SIC and was so helpful and supportive, sweetly repeating over and over, "You're doing great! You're doing great!" The only time I didn't believe he felt that way was on my landing when he tried to "help" with the flaps; I was annoyed in the moment but I understand his impulse to want to make sure it was the perfect landing, as well as to rely on his own habits and ways of doing things. As in many other situations in life for most people, I'm sure sometimes it was difficult to relinquish control. This was our best flight together with me as PIC yet. In some ways, this was the flight that made me feel like a real pilot, more than when I passed my checkride, because it was just a regular trip from one place to another, flying real passengers, simply for the purpose of getting somewhere...getting somewhere in the most fun way possible of course!
Monday, August 24, 2015
Returning from My Aviation Vacation
I flew as PIC today after a hiatus of a little over five weeks. It has not felt good at all not to fly: I've worried about the atrophy of my aviation muscles and felt like I wasn't really a pilot. But Mr. Aviatrix has been taking the plane a lot for work, so I can't really complain. Although he's been flying it so much that I've joked that we need a second aircraft (some of my suggestions have included a Husky, an old 172, a Super Cub, and even a trike - I love all kinds of aircraft). We also did some fun flying around Canada, all of it with some IMC (instrument meteorological conditions, meaning clouds, meaning instrument flying as there is nothing to look at outside the airplane), so I could not do that flying. I certainly got to practice my radios, as I at least could help with that part of the workload. For any pilots that read this, you'll be relieved to know that I still sound like myself and am not talking in that "radio voice" we sometimes hear on the frequencies - you know the one that resembles 70s radio disc jockeys introducing the latest summer hits.
Today I went with my CFI to Sullivan County Airport (KMSV) to make sure I still had my landings and to build some cross-country time for my instrument training. While it would have been perfectly legal for me to fly there myself, I think it is always beneficial to fly with a CFI if you've taken some time off from flying, and as a new pilot myself I think it is essential, especially as I complete my transition to a high performance C182 from the classic trainer C172. The runway there is so long that we were able to do stop-and-go's, something I haven't done since my primary training at KLAL. Then we returned to N07 where I logged a couple of (very thankfully) uneventful landings.
Lastly, I hit 130 hours today!
Today I went with my CFI to Sullivan County Airport (KMSV) to make sure I still had my landings and to build some cross-country time for my instrument training. While it would have been perfectly legal for me to fly there myself, I think it is always beneficial to fly with a CFI if you've taken some time off from flying, and as a new pilot myself I think it is essential, especially as I complete my transition to a high performance C182 from the classic trainer C172. The runway there is so long that we were able to do stop-and-go's, something I haven't done since my primary training at KLAL. Then we returned to N07 where I logged a couple of (very thankfully) uneventful landings.
Lastly, I hit 130 hours today!
Thursday, July 16, 2015
I'm learning to fly around the clouds...
I went flying this morning, as anyone reading this would have guessed, as this blog has a pretty simple formula: I fly and then I write about it. This week was the official beginning of my IFR training (that's training to obtain my rating to fly under Instrument Flight Rules, or in lay-terms flying the plane using only instruments in order to be able to fly in the clouds when you can't see outside and also to become a safer, more precise, generally more skilled pilot). Preparation for the IFR rating includes ground school and flight practice in order to take a written exam followed by an oral exam and a practical exam, structurally similar to preparation for the private pilot rating. I often tell people that learning to fly, including all the maneuvers for the practical exam and all the different types of takeoffs and landings (especially landings!) was the hardest thing I ever tried to accomplish in the realm of education. I am starting to think that becoming an instrument-rated pilot is going to be even more challenging.
This morning I spent about 45 minutes wearing glasses that block out the outside of the plane and only allow the pilot to see the instruments inside (aka, "foggles"), taking directions from my CFI about ascents, descents, turning ascents, turning descents, and anything else that is in lesson 1 of the syllabus of IFR flying. I hadn't worn the foggles since finishing up my primary training in April and even then I accrued that time in small here-and-there increments, so it was a strange sensation. I can already see how this will make me a more attentive pilot, as I noticed myself fixating on one instrument at the detriment of others (e.g., making sure my wings were level but straying from my heading or holding my heading but losing altitude), and in order to earn my IFR rating I need to be able to attend to all of them equally. I do believe I will improve my scan of the instruments as time goes on, but this morning's initial attempts left me feeling green - in my experience as well as around the gills as I did get a bit queasy.
We finished off our flying with some patternwork at teeny tiny N07. My landings there are definitely improving, although I still fantasize about gliding the C182 onto the wide, long KLAL runway 9.
Today's flying reminded me of one of the reasons I fell in love with it in the first place, which is that when I am in the air, especially when I am PIC, I am so focused on flying that I cannot think about anything else. And I am someone who can spend a lot of time and energy thinking and analyzing and worrying. I worry about things that are happening in my life at the moment, I worry about things that could happen, I worry about things that have happened and wonder if I could have done them differently. I worry about looking and sounding stupid to friends, family and colleagues. I worry about big things and small things and just-right-sized things. And sometimes I forget what I'm supposed to be worrying about and that worries me, too. I am so grateful to have such a sublime activity which offers so many ways to escape - my worries, the planet, the current hot city, whatever it is at the moment that needs to be changed. Flying truly does change my perspective, not just in terms of altitude or heading or how to do it but also related to what is truly important. Another more poetic way to think about it care of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers:
"Some say life will beat you down
Break your heart
Steal your crown
So I started out
For God knows where
I guess I'll know
When I get there
I'm learning to fly
Around the clouds
What goes up
Must come down"
I think what I do up there definitely helps when I do come back down to Earth and back to real life.
This morning I spent about 45 minutes wearing glasses that block out the outside of the plane and only allow the pilot to see the instruments inside (aka, "foggles"), taking directions from my CFI about ascents, descents, turning ascents, turning descents, and anything else that is in lesson 1 of the syllabus of IFR flying. I hadn't worn the foggles since finishing up my primary training in April and even then I accrued that time in small here-and-there increments, so it was a strange sensation. I can already see how this will make me a more attentive pilot, as I noticed myself fixating on one instrument at the detriment of others (e.g., making sure my wings were level but straying from my heading or holding my heading but losing altitude), and in order to earn my IFR rating I need to be able to attend to all of them equally. I do believe I will improve my scan of the instruments as time goes on, but this morning's initial attempts left me feeling green - in my experience as well as around the gills as I did get a bit queasy.
We finished off our flying with some patternwork at teeny tiny N07. My landings there are definitely improving, although I still fantasize about gliding the C182 onto the wide, long KLAL runway 9.
Today's flying reminded me of one of the reasons I fell in love with it in the first place, which is that when I am in the air, especially when I am PIC, I am so focused on flying that I cannot think about anything else. And I am someone who can spend a lot of time and energy thinking and analyzing and worrying. I worry about things that are happening in my life at the moment, I worry about things that could happen, I worry about things that have happened and wonder if I could have done them differently. I worry about looking and sounding stupid to friends, family and colleagues. I worry about big things and small things and just-right-sized things. And sometimes I forget what I'm supposed to be worrying about and that worries me, too. I am so grateful to have such a sublime activity which offers so many ways to escape - my worries, the planet, the current hot city, whatever it is at the moment that needs to be changed. Flying truly does change my perspective, not just in terms of altitude or heading or how to do it but also related to what is truly important. Another more poetic way to think about it care of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers:
"Some say life will beat you down
Break your heart
Steal your crown
So I started out
For God knows where
I guess I'll know
When I get there
I'm learning to fly
Around the clouds
What goes up
Must come down"
I think what I do up there definitely helps when I do come back down to Earth and back to real life.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
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.
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.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
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."
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."
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