Safety Spotlight: Happy birthday, Dad

It morphed into the kind of day that makes general aviation such a rich experience. Several of my dad’s friends flew or drove in for the event, and new friends opened hangars and homes along the strip. People wheeled out grills and served lunch with fresh watermelon. Soon, airplanes emerged from nearby hangars. A T–34, Piper J–3, Van’s RV–6, and Navions took to the air exposing nonaviators to the joy of flying, and importantly, the joy of being a part of the aviation culture. My brother gave Waco rides, barnstormer style, with me acting as his “scooter,” loading passengers. Many people commented on how “you pilots are an awfully fun group”—a refrain I’ve heard many times through the years.

At some point during the day, I met the first female F–35 pilot. Having recently retired from the U.S. Air Force, she’s returning to her roots in GA and flew some patterns with an instructor in a beautiful RV–6 she recently bought. Her two young daughters played with several other children, launching foam airplanes. Mom, smiling nearby, was a silent and powerful role model.

I lost track of how many sorties were flown: at least eight in the Waco, several in the Navion. I flew a J–3, a Waco, and had a special checkout with retired airline captain Jimmy Hunt in his 300-horsepower T–34. From the backseat, Hunt offered just the right tip at just the right time to help me adjust to the airplane. I got the hang of the T–34 and Hunt tried his best to jinx me all the way down final—explaining he’d never seen anything but a beautiful landing in this T–34, and, oh, how easy it is to land this airplane on all of this beautiful grass, and wouldn’t it be embarrassing if I bounced one in front of all these people. I disappointed him with a respectable landing, which he immediately attributed to the softness of the grass. We taxied in, canopy open, still laughing with and at each other. My dad made several flights on his inaugural day in the octogenarian club, and finished the day flying his 300th Young Eagle.

Like most of us who’ve flown a great deal, dad has found himself in a square corner occasionally. Such as the time weather was below forecast and low on fuel, after several missed approaches, he finally broke out under the weather and landed with only a skosh of fuel remaining. He’s carried extra fuel ever since. Or the time, not long after buying his Navion, a magneto went bad just after takeoff. At heavy weight on a hot day, he recognized the problem, isolated the good magneto, and with reduced thrust—using small rudder inputs, slowly, gingerly coaxed the Navion around the pattern, delayed his gear extension until he could glide in if need be, and landed safely. His training and his knowledge of his airplane were key that day. He knew to work his magnetos, and slow flight training taught him that an overbank could be disastrous. Knowledge, good stick and rudder skills, and confidence brought him through.

For the last decade or so, my brother and I occasionally fly with Dad, and discreetly (so we thought) look for any deterioration of skills as he ages. One day after such a flight, over a few beers in the hangar, Dad looked at us and said, “I know what you boys are doing, and I’m glad you’re doing it.” Lately he’s begun self-selecting out of some of the more challenging areas of single-pilot flying. He doesn’t fly solo at night or solo IMC anymore. Both wise decisions that help explain how he’s gained more than 6,000 hours in 40 years of GA flying, accident free, and been the aviation spark for two sons, two grandsons, a granddaughter, and counting.

We could not have asked for a better day to celebrate 80 years of a full life, 40 years of safe flying, 35 years of that in his beloved Navion. In my dad’s eyes, God most certainly flies a Navion. The day closed, we pushed the Navion back into the hangar, and watching in the shade nearby, was my mother, who put the whole day together, not just by organizing the party. It was she who gave him a single flight lesson as a Father’s Day gift some 40 years ago. And look at what she started.

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