Editorial

Why do people fly small airplanes? My three-year-old hasn't asked me that question — yet. Like many tough questions posed by innocents, it's a difficult one to answer satisfactorily. (Can you say: "Slip the surly bonds"?) So let's not even try. Instead, let's look at the story of someone who once was infused with the spirit of flight, then lost it. It happens all the time, but we shouldn't let it. If there were an excess of active pilots today, we might let attrition go unanswered, but there isn't, so we shouldn't. Each of us has to work to keep our numbers from declining. But back to the story. Hint: It has a happy ending.

We begin at the beginning. His first exposure to little airplanes was in 1961 while a soldier in the Army, stationed at Fort Knox, Kentucky. He signed up for an Army aviation program and began taking instruction in Piper PA-18 Super Cubs. "I was the worst," he remembers. "The last to solo. It was the challenge of my life, but I got through it and turned out to be one of the better pilots in the group." But he balked at committing to four addi- tional years in the Army, so his fledgling military aviation career ended abruptly.

He was hooked nonetheless. Following discharge from the Army, he took advantage of GI Bill benefits and earned private and commercial certificates with instrument and multiengine ratings. The benefits weren't wasted, either. He used an airplane to advantage in his work as a salesman. Eventually, he bought an airplane, an S-model Bonanza, and later a new V35A-TC turbocharged Bonanza.

But seeds of discontent were beginning to sprout. By the late 1960s, he was living in southern California, and the pleasures of flying were being overtaken by the complications, the congestion, the restrictions. Cost wasn't an issue. "I just didn't want to deal with the hassles," he explains.

Other pleasurable pursuits began to intrude on flying, in particular boats and fishing. "You know, you throw yourself into those sorts of things," he says. Soon, instead of flying his airplane, he was piloting a cabin cruiser around on California waters. The last flight logged was in April 1970.

He added a 32-foot motor home to his growing collection of big boys' toys, things that were every bit as expensive to buy and maintain as a light airplane.

It took 20 years to exhaust those interests. "Finally, the thought hit me that none of those things satisfied me as much as flying did," he says. Two things helped lead him to that realization. One was listening to some of the women he works with who had begun taking flight instruction. They could talk about little else, especially after soloing. Their enthusiasm was bound- less and infectious, and it began to work on our friend. In particular, he was impressed that the frustrations that drove him out of the air, such as trying to cope with ever increasing amounts of controlled-access airspace, mattered not a whit to these new pilots. They were growing up with the new rules and seemed to take them in stride. Our friend was feeling old- fashioned, if not old.

Then he and his wife went to Alaska for a vacation. While there, they took a tour in a Cessna 206 on floats, and he got to handle the controls. "It was great," he says. "I thought, 'You know what? I really miss this.' "

Fast-forward to today. He is back flying again, working with an instructor at Van Nuys. He had thought he was going to have to take his remedial training outside of the congested Los Angeles basin, which would have meant a lot of driving back and forth. But he decided that he might as well learn from the beginning to cope with heavy traffic, cheek-to-jowl TCAs and ARSAS, and fast-talking controllers. "I'm willing to pay extra money to learn in this environment. If I can learn here, I can fly anywhere," he reasoned.

He's taking biennial flight review training in a Piper PA-28 — a Cherokee, except that his young instructor keeps insisting (correctly) that it's a Warrior.

It has gone very well for our friend. "I went out and discovered I could fly the airplane," he says. "It was a piece of cake, although all the radio work was confusing: ATIS, ground control, tower, departure control, and flight following. But after five hours, it wasn't a problem anymore. And the equipment today is so good. Standby frequencies in the nav/com — what a wonderful thing. And the headsets. I never had 'em before. It's a wonder I'm not deaf."

For the second time in his life, our friend is hooked on flying. "I didn't realize how much I missed it until I started doing it again," he says. He's already bought an airplane, an older piston twin with new engines and modern avionics, and is planning some trips. He still likes boats and fishing and motor homes, but after a long absence, flying once again is first on the list. Chalk one up for our side.