Pilotage

The decision whether to fly yourself or take a lesser form of transportation hinges on any number of factors, depending on the circumstances. Weather is an obvious consideration. So is money — for most trips involving just one or two people, flying a small airplane isn't the least expensive way to go. Convenience, speed, flexibility, and the pleasure of flying are the justifications for renting an airplane or flying your own instead of taking the airlines or, for shorter trips, driving.

I have to make the fly-or-drive decision every time I travel coast to coast — the west coast of Florida to the east coast, that is. It takes only an hour for me to fly from one of Florida's shining seas to the other. The drive takes three times as long, mostly because I can't go direct. I have to drive east, then south, then make the straight high-speed dash east across the Everglades. Once on the east coast, I go north or south again, depending on the destination.

Flying across the state makes great sense because I can fly direct. Florida is blessed with many coastal airports, so wherever I land I'm never far from my final destination. Weather rarely is a deterrent, either. Fronts blast through quickly, and run-of-the-mill air mass thunderstorms are easily circumnavigated. VFR is SOP.

I'd much rather fly, but sometimes the decision is a tough one. When I add the 35 minutes it takes to drive to the airport and another 20 to 30 to prepare the airplane and depart, plus the ground-transportation time at the destination end, the time gap between flying and driving narrows to practically nothing. Add in the higher cost of flying and sometimes opting to go by air doesn't make sense.

The pros and cons concerning mode of transportation were lining up in my mind prior to making a recent trip to Ft. Lauderdale. I chose the airplane simply because I prefer to and because I figured I could get an extra hour in the office on a busy Monday morning before departing. But the schedule didn't have any cushion.

Not surprisingly, the schedule began to disintegrate before I left the house. I couldn't find my sunglasses — virtually a no-go problem in South Florida's harsh sunlight. Squinting on the drive to the airport, I was thankful that at least the drawbridge wasn't up to let a slow-moving sailboat meander through.

Once I was at the airport, things ran more smoothly. The airplane checked out fine, and in short order I was belted in, had the prop turning, and was listening to ATIS. The active runway was the one closest to me — it would be a short taxi and expeditious departure. Good!

I picked up my IFR clearance and prepared to turn from the ramp onto the taxiway. Suddenly, a 172 of Canadian registry came scurrying from right to left. The ground controller hadn't mentioned the other airplane, but I stopped and let the hurried pilot go ahead. No sense forcing the issue, eh?

Fortunately, his was a short runup, and soon I was number one for takeoff. Then the tower controller cleared a Waco onto the runway at another intersection. "Hey," I thought, "What about me? I'm next." An instant later he explained that in the brief delay while departure control made radar contact with the departing Cessna, he could send the VFR Waco on its way. Made sense to me. The controller was working the system to everyone's benefit, squeezing a few more ounces of efficiency out of a set of formal procedures. In a few seconds I was cleared to go.

The formal procedures soon returned to dog me. The departure controller kept me on runway heading — 60 degrees from my on-course heading — for the duration of the climb. I had filed for 5,000 feet, but it looked as if that would put me in the bumpy bases of the scattered building cumulus clouds. I asked for 3,000. The controller said fine, then informed me that center wanted me on an airway routing (I had filed for and received a direct-to-destination clearance) because I'd be below radar coverage for a small portion of the flight.

I thought for a moment, then told the controller I'd cancel IFR and fly VFR direct to the destination airport. No problem, he said, just maintain a VFR altitude and stay on the same squawk code for radar advisories. Now I was working the system to everyone's benefit.

Approaching Ft. Lauderdale-Hollywood International, the destination airport, I was cleared for the visual approach. I dialed up the Arinc frequency for the FBO to say that I would be arriving in about 7 minutes and ask if someone could please call a cab for a ride into town.

As I taxiied up to the FBO and shut down, a lineman walked out and said, "Your cab is waiting."

Occasionally the system has a bad day. But when the system — meaning the entire process of flying, from the moment you leave your home or office to the moment you walk through the doorway of your destination — is shifting through the gears like a precision-built transmission, it is wondrous. It makes you question why you ever take the airlines or the car.

The cabbie dropped me off at the hotel within 10 minutes of the time I had determined would be ideal. The system had worked for me this day. It worked for the cabbie, as well — I tipped him big.