I’ve decided to write this at three flights into my training, and will be back-dating these posts to reflect each flight on it’s day.
My entry into the world of General Aviation (GA) happened in 1994 when my dad handed me a small sheet of laminated paper reading “Private Pilot.” My eyes gleamed as I glanced outside and asked, “Can we go?” Of course he wouldn’t have handed me his pilot’s license if the day wasn’t going to be my first flight with him. We loaded up in the car, dad, me, mom, and my sister and headed to Williamson County Regional Airport (MWA) where he had completed his flight training.
I can’t remember exactly how it went, but he rented a Piper Tomohawk, the only aircraft he’d ever flown, and he and I walked out to the bubble-canopy, two-seat airplane. I didn’t care how big it was or how it looked, all I cared about was there was a seat for me and it had wings, real wings.
Dad introduced me to preflight, the inspection of the aircraft to make sure it’s ready to fly. He explained the control surfaces, even let me move an aileron. With the preflight done, he helped me step up onto the right wing and climb into the right seat. Dad hopped into the left seat and began flipping switches. A taxi and what he called a “run up” left me with a million questions, but soon I was looking out of the window at our house, from 2,500 feet in the air.
The flight lasted half an hour, then it was my sister’s turn in the right seat, but it was far from my last trip up with dad. Soon, he got checked-out in the Piper Archer, a four-seat, larger, more comfortable plane, which opened up the four additional rentals of two Warriors (an Archer with 20 less horsepower) and two Archers. I created my own logbook, and over the next several years logged nearly 40 hours as a self-proclaimed co-pilot.
Dad, along with two other friends, bought a 1975 Piper Cherokee Six 300 in 1998. We flew the high-performance, six-seat airplane to Panama City, FL loaded with six of us and luggage for a week.
For whatever reason, this cross-country was to mark the end of flying for both of us. It’s now March 2007, and the Cherokee Six is still sitting at Marion’s airport, fueled and ready to go, but rarely flies. It’s now my mission to change that.
I started ground school at our local community college in January, being led by Todd Greiner, a CFI who frequently flies our Cherokee, and even part-owned it for some time. If my bug for flying wasn’t already racing to go, one night of ground school pushed it over the top.
I called Aeroflte, the FBO at Marion airport, and met a flight instructor (CFI), Carl. He and I discussed the task ahead, and my previous flight experience. One week later, it was go time.