Pilotage

I don't remember my first ride in a small airplane. I don't remember how old I was, where it took place, or in what kind of airplane. I do, however, remember an early flying experience. It was in a Ryan PT- 23, an old open-cockpit ex-military primary trainer. My father owned a piece of it, and he took each of his children for a ride. We lived in Atlanta then, near the DeKalb-Peachtree Airport.

My most vivid memory of the flight is sitting in the airplane on the ramp at PDK. It was a strange sensation, obviously not one I had experienced before when flying in plain old four-place, enclosed, tricycle-gear airplanes. I was apprehensive, but that melted away once we were flying. Flying was still new to me, and the simple change in perspective — seeing the world from above rather than at eye level — was thrilling.

I took each of my children flying within six to eight weeks of their births so, like their forgetful dad, they don't remember their first flights. But I wonder about others, kids and adults, whom I take up for their first ride in a small airplane. What will they remember years later? Will it be exhilaration? Fear? Some of each, probably, but hopefully much more of the former. Whatever the passenger's permanent memory, taking someone up for a first flight is a special event for a pilot. Certainly there is no guarantee the fledgling will love the experience; but if he does, it is a magical moment.

One recent first flight I gave was with a woman who had never flown in anything until a couple of years ago when she rode an airliner. Our mission involved business; we had to make a round-trip from Kansas City to Wichita, preferably in a day. Our choices were Interstate 35 or Victor airways. It was an easy decision.

When I began to preflight the airplane, she tagged along. I explained what I was doing, what functions various parts and pieces perform, why things look the way they do on a small airplane, and why pilots perform preflight inspections. I'm glad I included that last explanation. She commented that my nit-picking the airplane boosted her confidence in it and in me because it demonstrated to her a prudent concern for safety. That's a good way to start a flight with a newcomer.

I began to explain about checking the oil level and draining the fuel system sump, when Bang! — she walked into a motionless prop blade. The tip carved a nasty little gash in her forehead. She shrugged it off, professing embarrassment more than pain or anger.

I felt terrible. I was angry at myself for not having watched her more closely, and for forgetting that there are lots of things on an airplane that can reach out and touch a first-timer: a pitot tube, wing and landing gear struts, wheel pants, prop blades, and even the wing and tail. Every Cessna 172 pilot can identify the reddish diamond shapes sometimes seen imprinted in the foreheads of airport people; it's the mark created when someone forgets to watch where he is going and walks into the trailing edge of a 172 wing.

Whether it's turning or not, the prop probably represents the biggest threat to the safety of a light airplane novice. An easy way to avoid having someone walk into a stopped prop blade is to position it straight up and down: 12 o'clock and six o'clock. Of course, that works only with a two-blade prop.

Once my passenger had her headache under control, we departed. Before taking off I explained to her what I would be doing to the airplane and how it would respond, beginning with applying full power, then rotating at 60 mph by pulling back on the yoke, followed by banking to the desired heading, switching frequencies to talk to a departure controller, and leveling off and pulling back the throttle to the cruise power setting.

Things proceeded nicely until a little over halfway into the flight. The passenger began to get nauseous. Turbulence was only partly to blame, since it was light, at worst. Then she confessed that she had been up late the night before, having a few beers with a friend. She hadn't had much to drink, she said; it was the lack of sleep and food — no breakfast — that was doing her in.

I made sure she had plenty of fresh air and counseled her to look outside the airplane at the horizon to stave off vertigo and certain illness. I've had four people throw up while I was flying, and three of the four times it happened on the landing approach. I fully expected it to happen this time as we made a typically bumpy approach to Wichita's windy Mid-Continent Airport. I was wrong. She hung in there.

A couple of greasy cheeseburgers later she was back to 100 percent. The flight home late that afternoon couldn't have been better. She gulped down a gas-station hot dog on the way to the airport so that her tummy wasn't empty; and once under way, we were propelled by a 20-knot tailwind that was completely devoid of bumps. With some coaxing she took the controls and practiced a few shallow banks, but she preferred to sightsee. The air was clean and clear, the fading light was soft and golden, and the lights of Kansas City welcomed us back home to Downtown Airport. It was a perfect journey.

I was lucky. The return leg could have been bumpy and uncomfortable for my passenger. If so, it may have soured her forever on flying in small airplanes. From that trip I learned plenty about taking someone flying for the first time. First, protect the person from the airplane. Unlike a car, an airplane on the ground is gangly. All sorts of things stick up, hang down, or protrude, ready to trip up or knock down the unwary. Second, explain everything. The passenger probably knows little or nothing about airplanes and flying, and lack of knowledge and understanding breed fear. Third, demonstrate a respect for safety and fly conservatively. Fourth, avoid long cross-country flights. It's asking a lot of a first-time flyer to enjoy bounding through "air pockets."

I regret not recalling my first flight, but I'm in on something special when I watch other people experience theirs.