Waypoints

AOPA Pilot Editor in Chief Thomas B. Haines flies better than he cooks, plays the piano, or sings.

As with music, sports, cooking, woodworking, and so many other passions, piloting an airplane is truly an exercise in art and science. And while some of us may succeed at one of those, aren't you envious of those who succeed at them all? You know the type: the Renaissance man (or woman) who, after casually showing off the coffee table they handcrafted from exotic woods and playing that little guitar ballad they just wrote grinds fresh pepper over the perfectly seared standing rib roast while bantering with others about the foibles of their favorite NFL players. You can bet they've chosen the correct wine and that they can tell you why it's the perfect wine, too — and they didn't overpay for it, either. You've flown with this person and they're a good stick too. Sign them up for Overachievers Anonymous.

I haven't bent any metal in a quarter-century of flying, but there are plenty of pilots who fly with more grace than I do. I can tell the difference between red wine and white wine by its color. Woodworking for me consists of sawing limbs off the trees out front when they scrape up against the house.

So we're not all Renaissance men across our entire life's spectrum, but within aviation we practice a variety of arts and sciences and, although we may not know it, are in fact people of wisdom with a breadth of knowledge sought out by others, which is the true literal definition of a Renaissance man.

Art in the air

As pilots we're somewhat aerodynamicists, at least understanding that you need to pull back to go up and push forward to make the houses get bigger. Getting too big? Pull back again. Pull back too far for too long and the houses get big again and very quickly.

We're mechanics (maintenance technicians, if you prefer) in that we can at least diagnose the basics of a fouled plug when it shows up as a rough mag; and we know where to put the duct tape to keep the rain from leaking in through the windshield (written from the perspective of the one-time owner of an old Cessna 172).

And while the weather may keep us on the ground sometimes, as aviation meteorologists, we at least know enough about how cold fronts and thunderstorms work to know when it is best to stay on the ground — at least most of the time.

Of course, it's not all about science. We become artists in dealing with air traffic control, negotiating our way out of a holding pattern or some circuitous routing with an alternative that keeps aluminum from brushing aluminum in flight, which is the goal of the controller. We negotiate deals with our spouses and accountants to keep the cash flowing to support our aerial habit, because we all know that airplanes don't run on avgas. They run on cash — or sometimes credit. At times I think I should just install a credit card slot in the panel of my Bonanza or one of those card swipes on the yoke. Give it a swipe and the engine hums.

And what's more musical than that singsong airline-captain rhythm our voices pick up when we're in the groove with the airplane, the weather, and the entire aviation experience? Have you flown with music piped through your good-quality stereo headsets yet? I thought it was for wannabes, but after trying it have discovered that I enjoy listening to music while flying. With the volume set just so, you can hear ATC calling with no problem and still get the most out of the music. And if the engine skips a beat, trust me you'll hear it and feel it. You can sing along if you like, but please, not with the mic button pushed. Your Renaissance man version of YMCA may not resonate so well with the rest of us.

Then there's the art of simply flying from place to place. Navigation is less an art than it used to be, thanks to GPS, but elegantly whipping through the correct keystrokes on your moving-map GPS to load an approach is tantamount to deftly stroking a Chopin piece on a Steinway — or, these days, a Yamaha. A thoughtfully flown traffic pattern; a perfect holding pattern entry; one of those greaser landings rewarded with the simultaneous chirp-chirp of the main gear just as the sun sets on a calm summer evening; a quiet no-bounce wheel landing on the turf. Don't tell me there's no art in aviation.

With open arms

And then there's the art of public relations — an art we may not practice enough. Although you might think that the grind of airline travel and the dire financial situation of most of the airlines have dulled the public's perception of pilots, I think you're wrong. To most people, pilots are still on a pedestal. Nonpilots are taken aback when they learn you are a pilot. The first thing they ask may still be, "What airline do you fly for?" but even when they find out you fly personal airplanes, still they are usually impressed. From then on you become their source for aviation information. When an airplane crash makes the news, whom do they ask for an opinion? You, being the knowledgeable one, reserve your response for when the official NTSB report comes out, knowing that early speculation about the cause of accidents is usually wrong.

It seems that most everyone you talk to has at one time or another thought about learning to fly — or at least that's what they say to those of us who fly. If they haven't considered it, a friend or relative has. So why haven't they taken the next step? Are they even less Renaissance men than we are? Or have we not done our best on the public relations side?

Have you taken a friend or acquaintance up for an introductory flight in the past year? I'm guilty here. I have a long list of people who have told me they want to go for rides but I don't very often make the call. Much of my flying is either cross-country for business or personal trips. On the occasion where I decide to check out the local scenery, it's often spur of the moment and people often have other things lined up; imagine not dropping everything to go flying! Often I seem to default to inviting along a few friends who fly with me fairly regularly. I enjoy the company. They like the flying. It's a comfort thing. I'll strive to be more inclusive in my flying.

One of the best ways to practice your public relations skills is through AOPA's Project Pilot program. Project Pilot is designed to help AOPA members become mentors for their friends, family members, and acquaintances who want to learn to fly. Sign a prospect up for the program and you will receive information to help you help your student to succeed in learning to fly. The prospective pilot, meanwhile, receives a helpful video, a free six-month subscription to AOPA Flight Training magazine, and a plethora of other information on learning to fly. Each of you becomes eligible to win a variety of prizes. With your support, advice, and encouragement the prospect has a much greater chance of completing his flight training than those without someone knowledgeable to lean on (see " Project Pilot Update," page 28).

Once you've honed the art of helping someone learn to fly, you can polish your other PR facets by flying friendly around the neighborhood, keeping in mind that the drone of airplane engines isn't necessarily music in the cockpit to the nonpilot lighting his gas grill there on the patio. Is that a standing rib roast he's working on down there? His guitar leaning against the chaise lounge? Geez, I bet he has the right wine, too. Sign that guy up.

E-mail the author at [email protected].