One advantage of finishing the written early was that I was already familiar with weight and balance, airspace, and how to plot a course. That meant I spent less valuable time with my instructor learning those things and more time learning to fly the airplane.
Once my written test was out of the way, I began my flight training in earnest. My instructor, Chris, was wonderful and was willing to work as hard as I was to help me earn my certificate before the airplanes were sold. We began flying on a Saturday and a week later, on a beautiful Sunday morning, I soloed.
It is still amazing to me that in one week's time I went from knowing next to nothing about flying an airplane (especially the landing part) to safely flying around the pattern by myself. I had dreamed of that day for most of my life. It was a busy week for sure, we flew four of the seven days logging 16 hours in 12 lessons, but it was well worth it. I had finally soloed
The rest of my flight training was intense, to say the least. I flew either by myself or with my instructor every day that the weather allowed, often flying twice a day. After some solid planning with the help of my flight instructor, I was ready for my short solo cross-country. I had already been to the destination airport twice with my instructor, so I was pretty confident when I took off. Like a good student pilot, I marked my time and dutifully checked off each ground reference. I was a little nervous calling the approach control frequency, but when I told them that I was a student pilot, they slowed down a bit and I was able to understand what they were saying. I was feeling pretty good about myself until I realized that I didn't have the field in sight when I definitely should have been able to see it. It was hazy, and I still wasn't very good at spotting things from the air (even nice big airports I'd visited twice). Eventually, I finally found the airport right where it was supposed to be. Of course, I was too close and way too high when the tower cleared me to land. I had learned how to slip to a landing in my training, but I didn't feel comfortable enough to do it on my own yet. Instead, I just pointed the airplane at the ground. I was determined to land. The tower controller offered to let me go around and take the other runway, which would have given me plenty of time to do a nice approach and landing. But in a classic example of poor judgment for reasons I still don't understand, I declined the offer.
By this time I was too fast, but I knew that it was a long runway and I was convinced that I could get down. Eventually I did bleed off enough speed to land. It was ugly, but I was on the ground. Embarrassed and flustered by the poor landing, I switched to ground control and asked to taxi to the little FBO my instructor and I had gone to before. Relieved to be on the ground and anxious to get out of the airplane, I didn't listen quite as closely as I should have.
Instead of giving me clearance to taxi directly to the FBO, the controller routed me around some ground workers who were changing light bulbs on the taxiway. I didn't read back the taxi clearance but just headed on my way. I turned in the wrong place and had to make a U-turn before the ground controller decided to talk me the rest of the way to the FBO. I had thought I was embarrassed by the bad landing, but now I really knew what embarrassment was. Needless to say, I took a long break before climbing back into the airplane, hoping against hope that the shift would change in the control tower and trying to collect myself and concentrate on the return trip. It worked. I don't know if the shift ever changed, but I did manage to gather my thoughts and fly back home without any more problems. Because I was on such a tight schedule to get my certificate and it was such a perfect day, my instructor and I decided that I should do my second short cross-country flight that same afternoon. Looking back, it was probably the best thing in the world for my nerves. Getting right back onto the horse worked well for me.
After a relaxing lunch and a long analysis of what I'd done wrong that morning, I climbed into the airplane and headed back to the same airport where I had so embarrassed myself earlier in the day. That night I wrote in my logbook, "Lessons well learned," and they were. The second trip went much better. I know that I will never forget the mistakes I made on that first trip, and I'm determined never to repeat them. The weather did not cooperate when it came time for my long solo cross-country. It seemed as though conditions would never be right. Finally the wind stopped blowing, and I got my instructor's blessing to make the trip. It was one of the most exhilarating things I've ever done. I've never felt so independent in my life, and everything went just as I had planned. I began to understand why pilots can be so cocky sometimes? I definitely strutted around for a while after I got home. My instructor hauled me back down to reality the next day with instrument flying practice, my least favorite part of the training. I hadn't realized how much I depended on seeing the horizon to keep the airplane level. My instructor and I spent the next few days preparing for the practical test. The weather still wasn't cooperating, but I stayed busy by studying for the oral portion of the test.
My checkride was on a Sunday. The oral portion went well, I thought, and I learned a great deal from the examiner as she expanded on some of my answers. But my confidence wavered when it was time for the flight portion of the exam. I was nervous, and my short-field landing was anything but short. I asked the examiner for another chance, and she said I could try again at the end of the test. My jitters began to subside as we continued through the maneuvers. And when we came in for the final landing it was both short and safe. I slowly and deliberately taxied into the FBO, and as we were unbuckling our safety belts, I looked anxiously at the examiner's face, trying to guess what her decision would be. As she worked to unplug her headset she casually told me I had passed. I could hardly contain myself, I had done it!
The question of whether it's better to do an accelerated, six-week private pilot course or spread the lessons out over a longer period still stands. When I walked into the examiner's office, I had 60 hours in my logbook. That's about average, so I probably didn't save much money by doing it so quickly. And if I had to do it over again, I probably would fly just once a day. As it worked out, I did exactly the right thing for the time and place. The airplanes were sold, and the Saturday after I received my certificate, I flew one of them from Morristown, Tennessee, to the new owner in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I planned out the navigation and did all the radio work while another pilot followed in the second 152. I logged five hours of flight time on that trip and felt that, finally, I was a real pilot.
Related Articles
