Continuing Ed

The trip had a difficult itinerary. Starting in Florida, I had to travel to Washington, D.C. for a meeting, then to Seattle for a conference, back to D.C. to pick up number one son so we could attend number two son's high school graduation in remote Western New York. Then I'd return number one son to his D.C.-area university, and, finally, on to Kansas City, the home base of the light twin I was flying. All of this had to occur within a week. Whew!

The only way to do it was to use a combination of general aviation and, for the D.C.-Seattle-D.C. portion, the airlines. I booked a late-night, cheap-seat flight out of Baltimore-Washington International. The return leg was classic red eye: Depart Seattle at 12:30 a.m., change in St. Louis, and deplane in Baltimore at about 11:30 a.m.

The plan's next phase called for number one son to pick me up at the airport and drive to the College Park, Maryland, airport, where I parked the twin while I was in Seattle. From College Park it would be a short 75-minute flight to Wellsville, New York, and the graduation ceremony.

With the red-eye return from Seattle in mind, I devised a Plan B. (Pilot's Rule #1: Always have an out, a Plan B, at the ready.) If I felt too tired to fly when I arrived in Baltimore, I'd rent an air-conditioned highway cruiser and my son and I would drive the circuitous six-hour route through hilly central Pennsylvania to our destination. I didn't expect to have to resort to this option, because I planned to snooze on the airliner and arrive in Baltimore rested enough to fly the short hop.

You can guess what happened. I was wide-eyed on that Seattle-to-St. Louis red eye. I slept for maybe 30 minutes. Two reading lights blazed continuously as the MD88 droned through the night - mine, and that of one other insomniac.

My son welcomed a bleary-eyed father in Baltimore - which, by the way, was steamy hot compared to cool and misty Seattle. The sticky heat seemed to sap what energy remained in my disheveled body.

While waiting for my bags I called flight service. Bad news. Thunderstorms were a-poppin' to the north along an east-west line that split Pennsylvania. The storms seemed to be dissipating in the western end of the state, but the briefer threatened unimaginable mayhem if I attempted a direct route. Even without the storms, visibility was marginal in the gooey summer air.

My frustration grew as the briefing unfolded. My carefully crafted plan had hit a major roadblock. The worst part - flying the airlines - was over. Now the fun part was supposed to begin, but the combination of the weather and my fatigue had raised a big question mark.

Ordinarily I'd weigh the briefer's verbal description of the weather against a visual radar depiction and make my go/no-go decision. In this case I didn't have access to a radar image unless we drove around the airport to the FBO. That would take time, of which there was little to spare. If we decided it was worth taking off and making an end run around the weather to the west, we'd have to drive south to College Park, prepare the airplane, and depart. If not, we'd have to get on the road quickly to make the 6:30 p.m. graduation ceremony.

I stood on the airport curb and looked at my son. I looked at his rusting, non-air-conditioned car (thus the backup plan to rent a new car). I looked at my watch. I stifled a yawn. Decision time.

"How about if we just go in your car?" I asked. "Leave right now. The weather is questionable, I'm tired, and if we rent a car we'd really be pressed to make it on time." My son, bless him, shot back with "Let's go," and quickly cleared the junk off the front passenger seat.

The drive was long and hot, but we had an interesting talk. An hour or so into the drive, in Harrisburg, we encountered the promised weather. A ferocious lightning storm drilled the surrounding hills. The car received a brief splash of rain, but we avoided the worst of it. North of the line the weather improved markedly. The temperature cooled, the air cleared, and the clouds turned benignly puffy.

We arrived in time to shower and get to the outdoor graduation with 10 minutes to spare. Number two son received his diploma and tossed his mortar board. I took pictures.

The decision to let my son do the flying in his car (which runs like a top despite its tired appearance) was an easy one to make. I was tired, the weather was challenging, and an alternative was ready and waiting at the curb.

The next time it might be much more difficult to decide not to fly. Fatigue won't be a factor or, worse, it might not be so evident. The weather may be marginal, but doable. A convenient alternative to the airplane won't be available. Not flying would mean not going at all. These are the factors that make for the tough calls.

Our job as safe pilots is to look at all the factors, admit to the questionable ones, and act accordingly. Try to make every call an easy one.