Proficient Pilot: And just like that…

I began hearing this admonishment a year after my first flight. It was in a Douglas DC–4 that whisked me from coast to coast to spend the summer of 1951 with my paternal grandparents in New Jersey. I was so enthralled by the experience of flying that after returning home I began pedaling my bike to nearby Santa Monica Airport. It was there that I became seriously infected by the flying bug. I took my first lesson the following year when 14 and then began counting the days until when I could finally solo.

On my sixteenth birthday, the day I soloed, I joined AOPA (soloing was a membership requirement in those days). That first solo was unquestionably the most liberating experience of my life, an epiphany. The days continued passing slowly, and I had to wait for what seemed like forever to reach my seventeenth birthday to become a private pilot…and then 18 to become a commercial pilot and flight instructor.

But even then, I was “still not old enough.” The Civil Aeronautics Administration (FAA’s predecessor) would not allow pilots to obtain an airline transport rating—the ATR, which is now the ATP—until reaching age 23. Painfully, I began counting those 1,826 days. No wonder Mom said that I was wishing my life away. Through dogged persistence, I convinced the CAA to let me take the ATR flight test two years early—when I was 21—the first person allowed to do so.

I honestly thought that it would take a lot longer to get here and, in many ways, I still feel like that kid who wished away all those days and years.TWA hired me in 1964 at age 26. One of our new-hire classes involved planning for what would be our mandatory retirement at age 60. Why did I have to worry about such things? I would never get that old. When I began flying the line as a Constellation co-pilot, I was amazed at how ancient some of the captains looked and wondered how sharp they could be. It did not take long to discover that most were outstanding airmen, fully capable of flying safely until 60 and beyond (as increasing the mandatory retirement age to 65 has proven). There were a few younger pilots, however, who did not belong in a cockpit and should have been put to pasture well before 60.

Before I knew it, I had flown for TWA for 34 years. I had suddenly become one of those ancients and was staring at the end of my career. Instead of counting days and wishing for them to pass, I now wished for the aging process to slow down a bit. Mom was right. I had wished my life away.

It was a serious disappointment to be forced off the flight deck at what I considered to be such a young age. I was having too much fun and still considered myself to be a skillful airline pilot. Thankfully, general aviation had no such age limits, and I could continue flying. As a retirement present, I bought myself a brand-new American Champion 7GCBC, the first Citabria ever equipped and certified for IFR flight. What a thrill to take N707BS into LAX a few months later and shoot an ILS in actual conditions of 200 and ½.

I will soon be 83, a number that seems to get caught in my throat. I honestly thought that it would take a lot longer to get here and, in many ways, I still feel like that kid who wished away all those days and years. I still feel good even though I recently had to have the shock absorber (knee) on my left main landing gear replaced. It was not fun, and I am hoping that few, if any other, moving parts will have to be replaced or repaired as I approach TBO.

No longer at the peak of my career, I have discovered that experience, judgment, and wisdom go a long way in compensating for the loss of youth. I have learned that a skillful pilot can perform many maneuvers, but a wise one knows when not to.

I no longer will fly a Beech Bonanza through a cold front at night over the Sierra, and my flight plans have become far less exciting and more relaxed. I am in less of a hurry to get anywhere, and I am far more inclined to cancel a flight when conditions are not to my liking. In fact, some of my most successful flights are the ones I opt not to make. I believe that in many ways, older pilots can be as safe or safer than younger ones.

Mom would be pleased. I am no longer counting the days and wishing my life away.

barryschiff.com