This month's topic is enigmatic. It asks a question for which there may not be an answer. The question is: Why do many or most of us occasionally do something stupid and life threatening? I am not referring to an honest mistake or to having insufficient skill to cope with an unexpected problem. Rather, I am referring to doing something that is really, really stupid.
Example One: A few weekends ago, a gaggle of aircraft departed a Southern California airport on a pristine day. They were destined for a breakfast gathering at San Luis Obispo, an event typical of what the group had been doing on weekends for some time.
While en route, several of the pilots engaged in formation flying. The lead pilot eventually descended into a canyon near Carpenteria and followed the lowest contour line like a cartographer's pen. Some of the pilots followed by maintaining a loose, in-trail formation. At some point, it became obvious to the lead pilot that he had better gain altitude, pronto. Unfortunately, he and the aircraft immediately behind were unable to outclimb their surroundings. All on board the Beechcraft Bonanzas perished on the slopes of rapidly rising terrain.
Those who heard about this needless tragedy scratched their heads. Why, they wondered, would such experienced and respected pilots fly up a blind and unfamiliar canyon without an escape route? This appears to have been a stupid and completely avoidable waste of lives.
Example Two: The pilot and his passenger were departing Santa Monica Municipal Airport in a Cessna 340. It was an incredibly beautiful twin, one that had been meticulously maintained and pampered.
After a normal takeoff roll, observers noted that the aircraft failed to become airborne at the appropriate point along the 5,000-foot runway. This is when the pilot probably discovered that his control lock was still in place, preventing aft movement of the control wheel. The aircraft nevertheless continued to accelerate. This might have been because the pilot recognized the problem and was attempting to remove the locking pin from the control column. During this effort, the engines continued to develop maximum power. The pilot failed to remove the pin and eventually attempted to abort the takeoff. But it was too late. The main-gear tires screamed in protest of maximum-effort braking during the last 1,000 feet of runway, and bystanders heard two "bangs" that apparently were tire blowouts. The Cessna plunged down a steep embankment beyond the runway's end, smashed nose-first into a perimeter road, and burst into flame. My good friend and his passenger did not survive. (The NTSB later found the control lock in place.)
These and too many other accidents leave us shaking our heads in disbelief. How, we wonder, can such normally competent pilots commit such egregious digressions from common sense? What happened to their judgment? Why did these accidents occur?
We know, of course, that we would never do such things. They would never happen to us. I am certain that the pilots involved in these examples said similar things to themselves upon hearing about other senseless tragedies.
I frequently am asked during work as an expert witness to explain why a certain pilot committed an inexplicable act. Unfortunately, one cannot crawl into a pilot's head to determine what he might have been thinking at the time. We know only that he did something completely out of character.
Another example of such an accident occurred when the pilots of a Southwest Airlines' Boeing 737 approached Runway 8 at Burbank-Glendale-Pasadena Airport with a horrendous excess of altitude and airspeed. Even the greenest of private pilots would recognize the need at such a time to pull up, go around, and try again. But these pilots ignored the rules of common sense and landed halfway down a relatively short runway. The laws of physics prevailed and the aircraft plowed headlong through a barrier and onto heavily traveled Hollywood Way. No one was seriously injured.
One common thread linking these and other similar accidents is how easily they could have been prevented.
Please do not misunderstand. I am not holier than thou, for I have committed equally egregious acts during my flying years. A significant difference is that I was lucky enough to have survived my stupidity. As famed aviation writer, Ernest K. Gann, would say, "Fate had decided not to point its fickle finger in my direction. Otherwise," he would add with a grin, "you wouldn't be here to talk about it."
Everyone, I think, has committed blunders. Many are the result of complacency, the belief that it can't or won't happen to me . Fortunately, the fickleness of fate can be neutralized by the simple act of thinking about something before doing it.
Next month at AOPA Expo 2002 in Palm Springs, I will conduct a seminar designed to celebrate the 50 years that have soared by since my first hour of dual instruction in 1952 and the nearly 40 years since my first article appeared in this magazine. I hope to see you there. It will be a fun-filled hour highlighted with an exciting, nostalgic, and entertaining potpourri (not all of which has been suitable for publication). — BS
Visit the author's Web site ( www.barryschiff.com).
Related Articles
