There’s an aviation expression that goes It’s better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air than in the air wishing you were on the ground.
What a bunch of hogwash.
OK, maybe not total hogwash, but the expression is too flip, too ignorant of human nature to be of any practical benefit. It tells us to avoid looking back and make peace with our decisions not to fly. Sorry, but I find that impossible.
Case in point, a recent flight I had scheduled from AOPA’s headquarters in Frederick, Maryland, to Toccoa, Georgia, for a family reunion of sorts over the New Year holiday. Much of this family I hadn’t seen since B.C. (Before COVID), so I was eager to get there, and even more excited to be flying it while saving hours over the boring drive. I’ve been flying long enough to know that this time of year is hardly reliable in terms of weather, but I was hoping that surface temperatures in the 50s would mean no threat of ice and a safe flight.
As the departure day got closer a massive cold front formed that stretched nearly the entire length of the country, spawning winter tornados in the South, and nasty winds up north. I’m a perpetual optimist, or a stupid dreamer, depending on whom you ask. Meaning, I kept my options open. It wasn’t until the morning we were scheduled to depart that I decided to pull the plug and head off on the highway instead. The decision wasn’t easy because in addition to a weather forecast that left some openings, I knew my aviating relatives would ask me about the flight. I’d have to say over and over again that I had decided to drive. And the airplane is a shared resource among all AOPA employees, so I had just canceled four days of scheduled usage at the last minute, far too late for anyone else to use it.
You can see what’s coming next. I spent half the drive checking the weather, second guessing my decision and wondering with each peek at the radar whether we could have safely made it. There was hard rain in one small part of the drive, but otherwise it was better than forecast. The blue skies peeking through in places didn’t ease my frustration.
As promised, I had to explain multiple times to family once we arrived why we had decided not to fly. The only positive spin I could muster was that we had wheels, something not available at the FBO. So, there’s that. I guess.I spent half the drive checking the weather, second guessing my decision and wondering with each peek at the radar whether we could have safely made it.
Try as I might, a few decades of flying still hasn’t eased my constant need to wish I were in the air while being on the ground. No doubt I’m not alone. The combination of hours saved, no traffic, and fun are a powerful elixir. Pilots also tend to be goal-oriented people, and if the goal is to fly somewhere, we try and make it happen. My mindset starts with yes, and it takes a lot of factors to change it to no. Ever since I was a kid, I would start with yes. Even if Mom started at no, I found a way to convince her. At work, with family, or with fun activities, the answer is usually yes. I assume most pilots are the same.
A few weeks after the failed trip, a friend called, and we were chatting about the holidays. It turns out he had flown right seat in a Cessna Citation from the mid-Atlantic to Florida the same day as my trip. He described it as the bumpiest flight of his 40-plus-year flying career, and one of the bumpiest of the captain’s as well, a retired airline pilot. They were in layered clouds up to the flight levels and rocked the entire time. Finally, proof that I had made the right decision.
At least there’s that. And the car. FT
Ian J. Twombly has yet to be in the air wishing he was on the ground.
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