Flying Carpet

Winning friends for flying

We have new neighbors up the street. Doug and Karen moved recently from the San Francisco Bay area. He's a retired physician, and she is a nurse and hospice volunteer. Both are warm but low-key. Immediately upon meeting them Jean and I discovered common interests in travel and hiking; quickly we became friends.

From the beginning, Doug and Karen expressed reservations about our aviation habit. Karen doesn't appreciate the noise of overflying aircraft, and Doug has noted details of a taildragger that sometimes flies too low over our neighborhood. It doesn't help that an aviator friend once alarmed them on a flight from California into Oregon-he became nervous after temporarily losing radio communications in the soup. Our neighbors don't know whether they were exposed to danger or not, but they realize that they might have been. Then they lost other friends to a crash in the high Sierras. No wonder they're uncomfortable in light airplanes.

Despite such concerns, Doug and Karen shared continuing polite interest in our family's Flying Carpet adventures: where we go, why, and what it's like. They conveyed no passion for joining us, but at the same time avoided prejudging that possibility for the future. Like many nonpilots, they solicited comments on aircraft accidents described in the newspaper-I took advantage of such questions to address their safety concerns.

Over time, Jean and I surmised that our new friends might one day consent to fly with us, but that it was not an offer to be broached head-on. Whenever the topic hypothetically came up, we read from their faces that "now" was not the time. That was until last week.

I was chatting with another neighbor outside our house when Doug drove up. "I've just bought a used car through an Internet auction site," he said through the open window after exchanging pleasantries. "I'm headed for Tucson tomorrow to pick it up."

Never having made such a purchase via Internet, I quizzed him on the process, then asked how he would retrieve the car.

"Karen doesn't like long driving trips," replied Doug, "so she's dropping me downtown at the Phoenix bus station. The dealer is only a few miles from Tucson's bus terminal, so I'll take a cab from there."

"You're riding the bus? Wow, I haven't done that in years. Doesn't it stop at every little town along the way? That could take forever."

"Could be," said Doug, "but I'm in no hurry. I suspect it'll be an interesting adventure, though."

"What if you don't like the car?"

"Hmmm.... It's from a reputable dealer so I hadn't thought of that. I suppose I'd just turn around and take the bus back if I had to."

"Would you like me to fly you there, Doug?" I asked. "It's less than an hour by plane, and the seller could bring your new wheels to the Tucson Executive Terminal. That way you'd save half a day's travel, plus I could wait to make sure you liked the looks of the car before taking off."

"That's certainly not something I'd have thought of. Besides, aren't you leaving town tomorrow?"

"I am, but if the car is ready today I could run you down there now."

"Now? I guess I'm not used to considering flying on such short notice. Let me check with the dealer, and I'll give you a ring if the car's ready to pick up."

Given Doug's prior hesitation, I doubted that he'd seriously consider my offer. But of course I was hoping he would-the day was ideal for such a mission.

Doug phoned a half-hour later to say that the car would be ready. "There's one problem, though."

"What's that?"

"Is there any way Karen could come along? She's a little nervous about flying, but that way she could join me for the drive back. It was her idea."

"Of course she can come," I replied. "Having her along will make it all the more fun." Doug and Karen soon appeared at my door, and together we departed for the airport.

I'd already checked the weather. Clear skies were forecast throughout the afternoon, and light winds. With temperatures approaching triple digits, there would be a few bumps. But when passengers really want to go somewhere, they're less sensitive to such things. So long as I briefed them properly, the flight would certainly beat long hours on a bus. And the two seemed genuinely thrilled at the prospect of driving home together in their newly purchased car.

We aviators sometimes forget the impressions of the uninitiated to our exclusive world of flight-alarm upon first encountering our tiny airplanes, uneasiness with open windows even during taxi, the wonder of wheels freeing themselves from pavement, the lure of landmarks from the air, amazement at our ability to decipher radio chatter.

Barely had that gamut of emotions passed when time came for a never-fails passenger pleaser-radioing unicom to alert the auto dealer of our pending arrival. By now the ride was indeed warm and bumpy, but already we were descending and there were new treats to distract my passengers. On final approach to Tucson International Airport, the three of us traded "oohs" and "ahhs" over F-16s rocketing toward the parallel runway. Better yet were the jets' near-vertical climbing spirals following each touch and go.

After landing we held short as two more fighters flashed by, then snuggled our diminutive Cessna between corporate jets at the Executive Terminal. I waved to the lineman, shut off radios, and pulled the mixture control. Other than the whine of gyros treasured by every pilot after shutdown, there was only silence.

"That was quick," said Doug, glancing back at the Flying Carpet as we walked away. "I can't believe we're here already," added Karen. Moments later a gleaming auto appeared streetside. After a brief admiring perusal, the two headed for the dealership to sign papers.

For me, it was back to the airplane to fly home. So few words had been expressed by my friends following our brief trip. Their thanks had been gracious, but would they go again?

Several hours later, Doug and Karen stopped by our house. This time they were beaming. "We wanted you to know we drove home safely," said Karen, "so you wouldn't worry." The three of us walked outside to admire the new car. "It's nice," said Karen, "but I must say the seats in the plane seem more comfortable; perhaps it's because we didn't need to ride in them for so long." Doug started the engine.

"That was certainly an interesting flight today," he said, waving as they rolled away. "You once mentioned an airport up at Bryce Canyon-maybe we should consider doing some hiking there. Let's discuss it over dinner on Friday night."

Greg Brown was the 2000 National Flight Instructor of the Year. His books include Flying Carpet: The Soul of an Airplane, The Savvy Flight Instructor, The Turbine Pilot's Flight Manual, and Job Hunting for Pilots. Visit his Web site.