As the new year begins, some of us now are at an age where we begin to reflect on the past, and I must admit to doing so at this time. It was 30 years ago that I learned to fly in a Cessna 150 at Sacramento, California's Executive Airport. Nothing has changed about this process — the same fears and apprehensions that plague the students of today were a part of my mental state throughout the training. Many of the same training airplanes are being used, as well.
There were no pilots in my family, no role models or military experience that promoted my undertaking this new endeavor. Having just graduated from college, working full-time in the evening, and with a young family, I should have been busy enough. But somehow, with mornings and midafternoons free for lessons, I was drawn to the airport to find out about learning to fly. Like anyone in his 20s, married, with one young child and another on the way, I was looking for an economical way to achieve this goal.
Instead of showing my aviation ignorance by opening my mouth at one of the half-dozen flight schools on the field, I chose my flight school by surveying their doors. Yes, looking at the doors provided me the necessary information to select my flight training organization. Why? Because the doors displayed decals for the credit cards the schools would honor, and I figured that I could charge up to my credit limit on both Visa and MasterCard to get through the training in the shortest time.
Like many of you, at the most unlikely time of my financial and family life, I undertook learning to fly. It made no sense; my family was not at all happy; and without any background in aviation, I found the task to be a tremendous challenge. But, as I talk with pilots around the country, I realize that this story is not unique. Many relate to me the self-confidence that learning to fly gave them, or the freedom to look down at the countryside from a unique vantage point. Most of us who fly are not idle or lazy people; our lives are full with or without this exhilarating experience. And most of us probably don't have the economic means to support this habit, but something drives us to ignore the dollars and go with the desire — the desire for higher ratings; taking that long cross-country; owning an airplane; and, as many of us have done, convincing our nonflying spouses and families that renting an airplane for an upcoming vacation is an efficient thing to do.
Our 1998 AOPA membership sweepstakes can help there. As you'll read in upcoming issues this year, we will be revisiting the past by awarding some lucky participant a "Timeless Tri-Pacer." Recently, as we were making the decision to refurbish a Piper Tri-Pacer for the sweepstakes, I remarked to some of the staff that during my early flying years this was the only airplane that I thought I would ever be able to afford, yet it would carry my wife and (at that time) two children, at twice the speed of driving the car.
At one point my West Coast flying hobby was interrupted by a new job in New York City, and I went a couple of years without any real flight activity. I convinced the family that we would airline back to Sacramento, rent an airplane, and fly to the familiar places we loved in the West. We arrived at the airport with the kids excited about a visit to their old surroundings and my anticipation of some 15 to 20 hours of flying time. However, I had forgotten how fast the three youngsters, who never posed a weight problem, had grown. The FBO employees laughed when we left more than 100 pounds of luggage behind in order to meet the weight and balance requirements of an airplane we had had no problem getting into three years earlier.
Just as children get bigger, so does the appetite of most pilots for ratings, going faster, and flying higher-performance aircraft. The Beech S35 Bonanza I owned in a three-way partnership was a far cry from the Tri-Pacer. Extended holiday weekends now meant that we could spend them in Mexico. Owning an airplane isn't always the most cost-effective form of transportation when you take into account repairs, annuals, insurance, tiedowns, etc. — yet aspiring to be an owner, or the pride of actual ownership itself, gives enormous highs.
Eight years ago, prior to coming to work at AOPA, aircraft ownership allowed me the thrill of piloting myself to Europe and back. The trip took weeks of planning, not to mention the weeks it took to convince my wife to accompany me on this memorable trip. Ownership also brings with it pilot friends who are looking for group therapy to justify their expense. We have spent many hours enjoying flying trips with those who share our love for aviation.
How do you describe to someone why you are a pilot? Is it because you like risks? I doubt it, since most of us are very risk-averse individuals. Does it bring you a tremendous sense of accomplishment and confidence? For me it does, and always has. Whether it was a student solo, cross-country, passing a checkride, or crossing the Atlantic, the thrill of knowing that few others reach these goals is very special.
For every 1,000 people in the United States, only three are pilots. We are indeed a special group of people bound together by the common language of aviation and many other outside interests; and we're probably not too practical when it comes to our aviation budgets. Thirty years ago, when I learned to fly, I made another decision, never even thinking about where I might be three decades later. In 1967 I became a member of the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association, like you, and have used its many benefits to enhance my enjoyment of aviation ever since.
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