Flying Carpet

Cause for alarm

"Beep!" The sound came as I was bicycling through high-mountain woods. Buoyed by the long-awaited sale of our Phoenix house, I found even the steepest of hills trivial today. I paused to ogle grazing elk. "Beep!" What's that noise? It turned out to be my cell phone.

"Greg!" shouted a desperate voice when I retrieved the message. A siren blared distressingly in the background. "This is Yaron. Sorry for interrupting you, but when Esther and I arrived today the alarm went off. It's been sounding for 45 minutes and we can't stop it!" It was yesterday's buyers of our Phoenix residence.

Phoning Yaron, I explained how to cancel the alarm. It was supposedly deactivated, so I couldn't imagine the source of the problem. Pedaling homeward, I considered the alarm system we'd installed, the programmable thermostats and electronic filters, and the automated light and irrigation timers. Now that home buyers and sellers no longer close their deals in person, there's no easy way to explain such things. The more I contemplated enlightening the buyers by phone, the harder it seemed.

I called Yaron back to explain that I would fly down from Flagstaff the next morning to show him how the alarm system works.

"Seriously, Greg? You'd fly down? You have touched on one of my passions--I've always wanted to earn my pilot's license!"

Cruising cobalt skies to Phoenix the next morning, I pondered recent industry concerns that romance and adventure may no longer draw people to flying. Might we aviators be a dying breed? On a sparkling day like this, it seemed impossible. And here was Yaron, bubbling with enthusiasm like you, me, and a thousand other pilots when we took to the air. I couldn't wait to meet him.

"I just can't believe you were able to hop in a plane and fly down here," said Yaron when I arrived. "We have so much to talk about!" I soon learned that my new friend had 10 hours of flying lessons under his belt. "Unfortunately my last instructor was impatient and yelled at me a lot," he said, "but I'll continue the moment I find someone better." He quizzed me about piloting in today's hot summer weather. "That's why I'm declining your generous lunch offer," I explained. "I want to get on my way before the afternoon heat sets in."

I briefed the new owner on the features of our former home, battling in the process 16 years of ghosts roaming its hallways. A lump filled my throat at the patio, against whose mountain views so many family photos had been taken.

"Where exactly is the property line?" asked Yaron, releasing me from painful nostalgia. "We're installing a fence to keep out coyotes. Did I tell you we have cats?" After fielding a few more flying questions, I gathered my things to leave. I was just stepping out the front door when the alarm sounded.

"This is what happened last time!" said Yaron, holding his ears. Stymied, I cancelled the alarm. "If it occurred twice before, it will again," observed Yaron. "You can't imagine how upset my wife was the last time this happened." Unwilling to abandon the new owners in such straits, I phoned our former monitoring company. "Why would the alarm keep sounding after being disabled?" I asked the service coordinator.

"Oh, no!" she laughed nervously. "I must've forgotten to cancel the automatic dial-in function. With the phone line disconnected it keeps activating the alarm. I'll send a tech immediately to disarm it."

After takeoff I peered downward at our former house like so many times before. How strange, seeing someone else's car parked in the driveway. But in the distance Humphrey's Peak beckoned from Flagstaff. Relieved of our final Phoenix anchor, the Flying Carpet rocketed skyward toward cooler air and our now one-and-only true home.

"Do you have a photograph of yourself with some sort of aircraft I could use with my column?" I e-mailed Yaron that afternoon.

"Since Esther is reluctant to be part of my flying pursuit, I have only scuba diving pictures," he replied, "unless this extraterrestrial-related one will do." Attached was a shot of Yaron posing before a flying saucer like the robot Gort in The Day the Earth Stood Still. "I took some lessons flying ultralights and powered parachutes, years before flying Cessnas," he wrote. "I even had a course in paragliding--jumping from cliffs with a parachute. Simply put, being up in the air makes me feel alive and very, very happy." Given the opportunity, Yaron would undoubtedly embark in that flying saucer.

So are aviators a dying breed? Not if Yaron is any indication... Please write and tell me if romance and adventure draw you to the skies. If not, what does?

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