It occurred to me recently that I could be an elitist jerk.
Not the type of elitist who compares addresses, job titles, or degree-granting location with acquaintances. Worse, I think I may be an airplane elitist.
This rather alarming moment of self-reflection didn’t come to me randomly.
It was during a checkout in a Cessna 172S. We were flying along at around
100 knots, getting bumped back and forth on our way to an airport to do a landing. This just isn’t that much fun, I thought.
I was a bit heartbroken. Have I become so jaded by the excellent flying experiences I’ve been lucky enough to have (appreciation cancels out ego, right?) that a humble trainer no longer excites me? Maybe. But I think it’s something else.
The Skyhawk is an undeniably good training airplane—forgiving without being easy—as is Piper’s Cherokee series, the Diamond trainers, and so on. Learning to do stalls, land, and fly on cross-countries all seem thrilling when you’re in training, and the airplane that enables that feeling hopefully still makes you tingle a bit when you first walk up to it for the day’s lesson. And for me, training a student in one of these airplanes is still a joyful experience.
Problems start when you finish training and launch your own adventures. Initially they are all incredible and any airplane will be brilliant for the job. But then you want to go faster. Or higher. Or longer. Talk to any pilot and he or she will admit this. At a certain point, it’s time for a change.
This is when you start to realize that airplanes are built for a specific purpose. The Skyhawks and Cherokees of the world were built for training and a little light transportation. They were not meant to be pilot career-sustaining wunderplanes that do it all. They are a compromise, with training taking three-fifths.
When you consider why you got into flying, learning a new skill and taking on a challenge likely were part of the reason. But surely they’re not the primary reasons. Those are fun, adventure, family travel, business travel, or something similar. And there are excellent purpose-built airplanes for each.
The point is this: The time may come when it no longer seems worth it to shell out $130 an hour or more for a training airplane. When that happens, don’t stop flying altogether. Remember why it is you started doing this in the first place, and pursue it.
After all, the beauty of aviation is that you can connect with your object of desire easier than in almost any other activity. We’re a tight-knit community, and pilots help other pilots. Getting a ride in, buying a share of, or owning your dream airplane is actually pretty easy. You should feel justified in pursuing your new dream threshold. Follow your desires. Aviation will be there for you. You just have to take it.
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