Time Flies

I recently read that a large portion of folks who hold pilot certificates are inactive and don't fly. I thought for a moment why someone would waste this rare ability, but then realized I did just that for 10 years. How does this happen? I think I might know why. A few months turn into a few years, then five years turn into 10. How long has it been since you've sat in the left seat? Six months, two to three years, 15 years? At some point you just have to do something about it, as I did.

My first memories of airplanes began when I was about five years old. My parents built a house beneath the final approach course to a decent-sized regional airport. Our house was so close to the end of the runway that you had to stop talking when a commercial jet passed over. I remember many nights parking in our Chevy near the airport with my parents to watch the lights. I was fascinated. To me, an airport at night is a beautiful place, with the sea of blue taxiway lights mixed in with the white lights—all shimmering from the heat of jet exhaust. At the Little League park where I played ball, I could see the airplanes on the ground and found myself distracted as they arrived and departed. Later, playing high school football, I still found myself distracted, watching the airplanes overhead. Until I went to college, my daily travels took me no more than a couple of miles from the nearby airport.

In the spring of my high school senior year, I found myself in the left seat of a Cessna 150 taking lessons shortly after an introductory flight. Teledyne Continental Motors sponsored an Explorer's group through the Boy Scouts of America that offered a ground school and access to its club's airplane for the cost of fuel. If I remember correctly it was about $5 an hour. During the winter of my freshman year in college, I earned my private certificate for a total cost of about $600.

I worked afternoons, weekends, and summers at the nearby airport as a lineman until I graduated from college. I experienced sunrise and sunset at the airport at least once every week and watched those same lights I had seen as a child, but now I had a much better view of the ground show. Watching the sun rise over the airport on a cool, clear morning while sitting on a tug is still one of my fondest memories of that job.

Working as a lineman at the airport gave me great access to both corporate and airline pilots and their vast experiences and suggestions about how best to gain additional ratings. With every opportunity, I met and built relationships with the pilots I came in contact with.

An instrument rating was important to me, but at the time there was the 250-hour requirement that presented a significant barrier to a beginner like me. My dilemma was how to gain the additional time necessary to get an instrument rating on a student's budget. The answer came one day when one of the corporate pilots suggested I get a multiengine rating. He explained that with a multiengine rating he and others could take me along on trips that involved deadhead legs (those with no passengers on board), and I could gain the additional time that I needed.

One charter pilot who was also an instructor took a particular interest in helping me. He secured an old Piper Twin Comanche that he had sold years earlier and began showing me the finesse required to fly a twin-engine airplane on one engine. About a year after getting my private single-engine certificate, I was a newly minted multiengine-rated pilot. I paid the owners of the twin a very reasonable rate, but my mentor would not let me pay him for his time. Instead of cash, he asked that I help him build his boathouse on the river. But he only let me work with him one Saturday. It was a good deal, and I am forever grateful for Julius E. French's help. Getting the multiengine rating was easy, thanks to French, but using it to gain those additional hours for free was the hard part.

I solicited every charter and corporate pilot I knew and asked if I could ride along with them on their trips. You would really be surprised how helpful and open these guys can be if you just ask. It also did not hurt to know the FBO bookkeeper who was "in the know" and alerted me to pending charter trips. This inside knowledge gave me a chance to ask the pilots if I could ride along.

After expressing interest in gaining additional time to the charter pilots, I received many opportunities to fly deadheads. In short order, I found myself in the right seat of the FBO's Beech Baron, Queen Air, and Piper Seneca, operating the radios for the captain?all for free. Each trip, I hoped that I could fly after the drop-off and gain the time I so desperately needed to get my instrument rating. There was a lot to be learned from every pilot who offered me a ride. I have fond memories of one particular charter pilot that I regularly flew with. Charlie Keith, a retired airline pilot, passed his time by flying charters for the FBO where I worked. I learned about getting the most out of the air traffic system, working the radios, and other tips from the old pro. After dropping off the paying passengers, Keith would let me sit in the coveted left seat, allowing me to get the full experience while he critiqued my performance and offered helpful suggestions.

The circle of pilots who offered me rides expanded beyond just the charter pilots at the FBO where I worked. I found myself acting as copilot on corporate aircraft when one of the regular crewmembers was off. This gave me time in Beech King Airs and Twin Commanders. I got rides on cargo flights in Beech Queen Airs and frequently rode with the pilots who made the nightly check run that started at around 10 p.m. and returned in the wee hours of the morning. My experience on the check run gave me the healthy respect for weather that I have today. Many times a summer thunderstorm or early morning fog had to be negotiated. As they say, the checks have to go, and it seemed that no weather was too bad. On several trips, I remember praying for a safe return to terra firma?truly a humbling experience.

These free rides also allowed me to see the country. Some trips took me north to Chicago; south to Naples, Florida; east to Winston-Salem, North Carolina; and west to Texas and Arkansas, all the while building the time I needed.

Sometimes these flights required me to skip a class, go without sleep, or miss a date. After gaining the additional time needed for an instrument rating, French and I started my training, and during my junior year in college I became the proud holder of an instrument rating.

About this time, I realized that all the airline jobs were going to the military guys, and since I already wore glasses, that option was out. The economy was not that great in the mid-1980s, and often the corporate guys were surprised to find their airplanes listed in Trade-A-Plane.

Business was always of great interest to me. I thought that by pursuing a business career I might have the resources to one day fly just for fun. Business was also a compelling choice because all those shiny airplanes in the hangar were owned by "business people."

After graduating from college, I became busy and focused. I began my professional career, got married, bought a couple of fixer-upper homes, and my wife and I started a family. Life seemed to get even more frantic, with plenty of other things to spend time and money on. My wife finally forced me to stop paying dues to the aero club that I belonged to after I went two or three years without flying. Before I realized it, almost 10 years had passed since I had taken the controls.

Several years ago, with a wife and two young children, I found my life more hectic professionally than ever, requiring weekly airline trips. Practically every week for almost a year, I found myself in an airplane more than a car, and always at the window seat. My little girl would look into the sky, see an airplane, and tell her mom, "There goes daddy."

From the airline gate where I waited weekly, I could see the airplanes that were tied down at the FBO where I had worked many years earlier. Something started me seriously thinking about getting current so that I could go up on those pretty blue-sky days. Perhaps it was the weekly airline trips, or more likely my young son who seemed interested in flying with his dad.

The first step I took was the purchase of a student pilot manual. I read the manual from start to finish. The next step was to rejoin the aero club that I had dropped out of years earlier. Finally, I contacted a flight instructor and told him I was ready to get current. When I first met the instructor, it was embarrassing to explain to him that I was a multiengine, instrument-rated pilot who had not flown in almost 10 years. The instructor was an older man who seemed to not really care why I had not flown in years, and we got down to business.

After about an hour on the ground reviewing, going over the airspace changes, and talking about airspeeds, we took to the skies. Aligning the nosewheel on the centerline and shoving the throttle to the firewall was an exhilarating experience. Once in the practice area, we went through all the procedures, including slow flight, stalls, unusual-attitude recovery, and emergency procedures. Although I was a little apprehensive at first, it was clear that my flying skills were coming back, but I needed a little honing to regain my confidence. Frankly, I was surprised at how well I performed the procedures after the long layoff. After an hour or so, the instructor was very complimentary of my skills, told me I could certainly fly the airplane, and we headed back to the pattern for some touch and goes. The instructor was really a hands-off guy and once in the pattern, would only give me guidance if I asked for it or if I really needed it. With only a little assistance with the proper power settings and airspeeds, I was gliding to a landing. Although all pilots know a greased landing is not important—nor a component of a safe landing—it certainly gives a pilot who lands for the first time in 10 years a big boost of confidence. I know that my excitement was hard to conceal from my instructor. After many touch and goes, we headed back to the ramp and my instructor mapped out the next step, which was to fly at night. The night flight was a great experience, and the instructor gave me some helpful hints.

After several hours my confidence was where it needed to be for VFR flying, and my instructor signed my logbook as having accomplished the flight review. In a matter of days, I took my young son for his first flight, along with my father. What an experience it was for my son; he loved it. We saw the water tanks by our house and the grocery store where we shop, and he was fascinated. After his first flight, he signed the entry on my logbook so there would forever be a record of his first flight. When he was only five years old, he could tell you what an attitude indicator did and had a particular interest in the yoke. On all of our flights, he wants to sit up front and usually wants to take the controls once we are at altitude. Since my son's first flight, we have taken his younger sister, who practically squeals at the sight of an airplane, and she loves it just as much as her older brother.

Recently, on a Sunday afternoon, my son and I flew into a small rural airfield and sat in the grass watching the planes take off and land, as I found myself again watching the light show in the early evening. On the flight home that evening I thanked God for the ability to fly and to pass my love for aviation along to my children.

Flying is just like riding a bike—just do it, like I did, and I bet you'll be surprised at what you remember.

Links to additional information about returning to flying may be found on AOPA Online ( www.aopa.org/pilot/links/links0008.shtml). W. Allen Carroll Jr., AOPA 1348453 , is a certified public accountant and consultant who holds a private pilot certificate with instrument and multiengine ratings. He lives in Mobile, Alabama.