An adage points out that a pilot’s flying career can only end in one of two ways, neither of them good. Either you’ll walk out onto the ramp knowing that it will be the last time you command an aircraft—or you’ll walk out there not knowing that.
The former is preferable for the vast majority who have other things to live for, but that doesn’t make it welcome. Still, it’s a decision that everyone who keeps body and soul together long enough eventually will face. What evidence would it take to convince you it’s time to quit?
Maybe a better question is, what evidence do you need to be sure it’s not yet time to quit? Those of us who have acknowledged that we’re not getting younger, smarter, more flexible, or better looking learn that aging well means managing your rate of decline. When we fly, we also have some things working in our favor—provided accumulated experience actually has translated into crisper technique and sharper judgment. An aviation medical examiner who flew Corsairs in World War II put it this way: “The difference between old pilots and young ones is that young pilots have quick reflexes. Old pilots don’t need them.”
While a tailwind stretches cruising range, however, it doesn’t refill the tanks. We must constantly reassess whether our reserves (of airmanship, health, and mental acuity) are still deep enough to cope with the unexpected—and here the gauges aren’t just unreliable, they’re nonexistent.
Or are they? Even without minute-to-minute monitoring, there are both internal and external clues. Physical fitness imparts a sense of how the body works and an awareness of when it’s not working right. Regardless of your starting point, improved fitness enhances that sense (and is almost always possible). Whether required by regulation or not, periodic medical, visual, and hearing checks provide useful feedback. And dispassionate assessment of one’s airmanship is always helpful. Nothing says that flight reviews can’t be done more often than every other year, or instrument proficiency checks only every six to 12 months. Doing them more often provides reassurance while helping maintain those carefully cultivated skills.
Yes, that final walk onto the ramp is likely to be emotional. But choosing that day on your own terms improves the odds that your last landing will be a smooth one.
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