The student didn’t, so the AME explained: “Young pilots have quick reflexes. Old pilots don’t need them.”
If you believe that age brings wisdom, or at least might, there’s a good deal of it in that adage. A 70-year-old who flies for fun may have less cockpit time than a 30-year-old who’s making it a career, but the older pilot can draw on a wider spectrum of life experience—and the mere fact of having survived seven decades suggests a prudent approach to risk management, the ability to absorb relevant lessons from experience and the accident record, or both. Reaching even middle age usually requires outlasting the manic impulses of youth.
But time eventually takes its toll on everyone’s physical faculties. The pace and severity of those losses vary immensely between individuals, but eventually we all have to acknowledge that we’re not getting younger, faster, smarter, or better-looking. Realistic awareness of our current capabilities is essential to continuing to fly responsibly and safely, even if that means ceding pilot-in-command authority while on the controls. And that assessment needs to be based on criteria more objective than how comfortable we feel in the cockpit.
Assessment of our current capabilities needs to be based on criteria more objective than how comfortable we feel in the cockpit.The distinction is nicely illustrated by contrasting two octogenarian pilots and their respective approaches to remaining airborne. One, an active volunteer for Pilots N Paws, stopped flying during cancer treatment but returned after it was completed. He wasn’t yet due for an instrument proficiency check but recruited a trusted friend to serve as safety pilot while regaining his instrument currency. After resuming rescue flights, he stuck to visual conditions despite decades of instrument experience.
The other, a World War II veteran with more than 50,000 hours flight time, stalled his Cessna U206 into the ground while giving rides at a Lions Club fly-in breakfast. He and five passengers were killed by the impact. NTSB investigators learned that he’d been treated for age-related macular degeneration in both eyes and had been told by his ophthalmologist to give up driving. Ten days before the crash, however, he’d caused a traffic accident by turning left in front of oncoming traffic. His ophthalmologist had measured his uncorrected visual acuity as 20/200 in both eyes; his AME (an old friend) had reported it as 20/20 and was decertified after the investigation uncovered that fact.
If we’re lucky enough to reach a certain age, we get to grapple with deciding when it’s time to stop driving. If we’re also lucky enough to be pilots, the corresponding decisions become both weightier and more difficult. We owe it to our families, our prospective passengers, and everyone else enjoying the freedom to fly to choose wisely.