Lanny Maness wasn't much different than any of the other students I've soloed. He learned to fly at a normal rate, which was actually impressive because he's busy managing his printing and yearbook publishing business and very involved with his wife and three children. On a number of flights Lanny would whirl through the checklist in what seemed to be a rush to reach his solace - the sky. It never failed to amaze me that when the Hobbs meter clocked 0.1 after engine start, Lanny would start to relax and forget about what had been occupying his mind.
At least once during each day's flight lesson we'd break from schedule to take a breather and explore the countryside. Lanny would usually leave the practice area to spy on his house or his office.
If you ask Lanny what he remembers most about learning to fly, if not his first solo, it might be the time we landed in a "field." After I pulled the throttle to idle and declared that he'd just lost his engine, Lanny went through the engine failure drill and checklist without flaw. But the field he picked wasn't the one I'd hoped he'd choose. Unbeknownst to him, we were well within gliding range of a public grass runway.
"How about that one instead?" I asked while pointing to a farmer's field. Without question, Lanny pointed the Cessna toward the field. I think he felt something was amiss when, on short final, he saw those bright yellow runway cones. After we landed, I nudged Lanny and said, "Nice job, Lanny! So what do you think about Lincoln Airport?"
By then he realized where we were, and with a grin on his face he said, "You got me."
One reason Lanny wanted to become a pilot was to fly someday to Canada to hunt. That was his dream. He'd hired a bush pilot on previous expeditions, and operating in and out of those challenging airports opened his eyes to the high skill level necessary to be a bush pilot.
Lanny's first solo was a step toward his goal, and he took it on his 45th birthday - a present to himself he'd earned with hard work. Mother Nature gave him a perfect morning for his rite of passage.
Several days before Lanny soloed, his wife, Katy, called me at the flight school and asked if I could call her just before he was to solo, so she could sneak out to the airport and surprise him with something she and the kids had made for him. When the time came a few days later, I called Katy immediately after sending Lanny on his way - alone.
Soloing seems to transcend the dictionary definition of responsibility. Because there's such a feeling of personal reliance, many students take soul-searching walks to gather their thoughts before their expected solo. Katy told me Lanny did this the night before his first solo. She said he was gone for about an hour - just by himself - thinking about his solo and making sure he had everything set in his mind.
When I hung up the phone, I saw Lanny climbing out on his first solo adventure around the pattern.
Katy arrived just after Lanny's first landing and watched his second and third. "Wow, he really flies well," she said. I agreed that he was doing well, and gave her a smile for her compliment. Just after Lanny touched down on his third and final trip around the pattern, Katy said she had to go, and she made sure I'd give him the box of goodies she had left for him.
"Oh, you should stay. I'm sure he'd be happy to know you saw his first solo," I said.
"No, this is a personal thing for him, and I think it would be better just with you and the airport gang. Also, the kids and I are taking him out later tonight to celebrate," she said. Then, looking out the large window at Lanny triumphantly taxiing toward the ramp, Katy added, "But please give him these things, and maybe you guys can share a toast with him when he comes in."
After she left, I peeked in the box. There was a bottle of Napa Valley's Mum's, chilled in a silver champagne bucket filled with ice. Evidently, Katy was more overcome with emotion than logic because it was not yet 8 a.m. and Lanny had to go directly to work after his flight. But that somehow added to the special thoughtfulness, I reasoned. Also in the box was a touching handmade card signed by Katy and their kids, 15-year-old Holly, 11-year-old Minty, and 5-year-old Chad. Chad had included a Crayola drawing of his "daddy flying," and Katy had added a special poem she wrote.
After securing the Cessna 152, Lanny strolled up the flight school's long walkway with a satisfied smile stuck to his face. Offering him my hand, I said "Congratulations!" Others in the room did the same, and then we waited for his solo story, as if none of us had been watching or listening on the radio.
"I was in my climb to pattern altitude. Then came a radio call that got my attention," Lanny said. "'Sedalia Traffic, N00000, 10-mile final, Runway 36.' It was a business jet, and I didn't have a lot of traffic experience. Just as I was about to respond, I heard someone say, 'N00000, Sedalia Unicom, be advised we have a Cessna 152 in the pattern on his first solo.' After a moment the jet said, 'His first solo! I'll go second.' So I turned base and had a great first landing. Then on that second time around, that inbound Army helicopter announced...."
The story told and congratulations accepted, Lanny made his way to the box his wife had left. He saw the chilled bottle of champagne, laughed, and joked that his wife was more excited than he and forgot what time of day it was.
Then Lanny read the homemade card, drawing, and poem. He looked up with an expression that said a thousand words. For that special moment, Lanny's life was perfect. He'd accomplished his life-long dream of flight, and his family's support made it all the more perfect.
It's hard to put that dew-filled morning into words, but everyone inside the small building at Sedalia, Missouri, felt a special moment and will always remember Lanny's solo. Every pilot's solo is special, but Lanny's was made unique by the caring celebration his family gave him on his first solo flight - on his 45th birthday.
Lanny continued with good progress and achieved his second notable rite of passage about two months later - he earned his private pilot certificate! He'd taken the next step in realizing his dream of flight.
J.D. Lewis
The Solo It was a perfect morn on June the fourth In the clear blue sky he soared Up there in all that quiet space, Of his small plane he was lord.
He banked the plane and looked below At the small town of his birth He saw the streets where he grew up And thought about its worth.
He thought about his family - His children and his wife Up in the silent atmosphere He could reflect upon his life.
He thought about his accomplishments Of all the things he'd done At times it had seemed very hard, But mostly, it was fun.
And here he was - a pilot now Flying his own small plane At the pinnacle of a restless year A year of laughter and of pain.
Would the landing be soft or hard? Would he pass this important test? Would he bring her in like a graceful bird Lightly back to earth to rest?
He smiled as he approached the runway now The landing lights in clear view The plane glided in as smooth as glass And he knew his life would too.
Katy Maness
