A Flying Story

The Adventure

2011-09-07T10:51:00.002-05:00

It's certainly been a while since I've been here. I've given all the excuses, busy with work, school, etc., but now the words are pooling in my head and they need a way out.

Things have changed a lot in the past year. Some things for the better, some still to be determined. There have been challenges and triumphs of course, but also a fair amount of soul-searching.

I'm graduating this [rapidly approaching] May. Now what?

A relationship I thought was going to last a lifetime fizzled out (mutually, and we're still friends). All the things I thought I knew and I thought I wanted are now in question.

So I start this school year alone in many ways. I'm in an apartment by myself, which is, of course, a double-edged sword. I love the privacy and space, but I do miss the social aspect. I'm forcing myself to embrace the solitude to really think about who I am, who I want to be, what I want to do, and where I want to go.

"If I were smart" is a phrase I've been thinking and saying a lot lately. If I were smart, I'd be an air traffic controller. If I were smart, I'd go to work for an ad agency. If I were smart . . .

And I guess here's a realization--it's not that I'm not smart enough to do the above. It's that, in some way, I'm not ready to do that. I've been spoiled by the experience of aviation and I'm not ready to sit down and have it take a back seat.

By all measures, that's not a well-advised stand to take. The wise thing to do would be to take a good-paying "normal" job, save up for my airplane, a house, a car, etc., and put money away for retirement. However, this is part of what has led me to where I am. I'm not ready to give up having my little yellow airplane to have a house. There's nothing wrong with those goals--I'm just not prepared for them yet.

So I sit back and take solace in the advice of a corporate pilot I know. "Experience these things while you're young," he said to me. "Because otherwise life happens, and you sit back and wonder where the time went. I always figured I'd finish college, and I still want to go to Alaska and be a bush pilot. There's always time to find jobs like this."

And then I ponder a little more and recall this quote by Mark Twain: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

I have the world's best friends and myriad opportunities to chase around in airplanes. So let's go, let's wander outside the comfort zone--no, let's barrel right through it and see where we end up. There's plenty of time to work but not an abundance of time to explore and experience. Here's to the adventure :)

--Amy

Keeping Me Sane

2010-02-17T02:15:00.004-06:00

I think everyone who likes airplanes is suffering with the dismal weather lately . . . toss in some stress, lack of sleep, and the ubiquitous college money concerns, and it gets worse!

Thankfully, there's this one thing I know I can always count on (and I have an awesome network of friends who care about me) that can cheer me up.

This little airplane.

In her I am home. I am complete. I cannot delineate where she ends and I begin. We flow together, two imperfect souls having found perfect partners in each other. She does not do my bidding; we work together seamlessly. I cannot recall giving commands, only desiring something to happen, and enjoying when it does. We meld naturally together, having become best friends after starting out timidly exploring each other. We have learned each other's quirks, growing closer in an inexplicable way only understood by those who have found their soulmates in the sky. There is a bond with her I cannot begin to explain--most, I'm sure, will dismiss such a notion as purely the construction of an overactive imagination. I'm ok with that . . . I know how this wonderful creature makes me feel, and I owe her the utmost respect because of it. If that relegates me to the outer fringes of the aviation family, so be it . . . the characters out here are more interesting anyhow!

These little yellow airplane "ruined" me. They ignited in me a passion so deep and pure not even I fully understood it, nor do I understand it today. They swept away the socially accepted appeal of a traditional airline job, baring me of any excuses to fly.

So why do I do it?

Because I love it.

Not because I desire a job sitting in the video-game cockpit of a massive technological marvel. I am a puddlejumper. I am "that little guy." I've got as many hours as commercial pilot checkride applicants, almost all of it hopping around in a Cub--and I wouldn't trade any of that for the world.

Too often we applaud people for saying what they want to do. I suppose I find this a little troublesome as those plans change at the bat of an eyelash. Where is the recognition for the ones who say "That's not for me" and seek to carve out their own niche? When did we start rewarding the safe bet and shy away from encouraging the daring, the impassioned, the dreamers?

I can tell you I will never be an airline pilot. I have several airline pilot friends who love their jobs, and I respect both them and their occupations greatly. But it's not for me, and everywhere I turn I'm the odd man out for knowing that about myself. I will not be that aviation school graduate who ends up hating their life flying for a low-paying regional carrier. I will do all I can, knowing this about myself, to keep the enthusiasm burning so I can introduce others to this wonderful world I'm so privileged to experience and participate in. To me, that's the highest calling--it has the most risk with the lowest tangible rewards, coupled with the greatest risk for financial ruin. Yet, it is the least recognized and least rewarded pursuit of them all.

Something's wrong with that.

We're only hurting ourselves by failing to support those striving to make a difference in the lives of others. We should certainly support those with a burning desire to become professional pilots, but not at the expense of losing great advocates.

Moral of this rambling: Cubs are cool. Cubs changed my life, making it more difficult inasmuch as career choices, but enriching it beyond belief with experience and clarity. Don't forget the puddlejumpers!

My bestest pal : ) Some day she'll be mine . . . I'm not entirely sure how, but I'll make it happen. My first post-college purchase will not be a car, a tv, a house . . . it will be this airplane, yes THIS one, because she means that much to me. I will live off of Ramen noodles and Easy Mac, driving my faithful old Saab, living in a cheap cramped apartment if that's what it takes.

Heading off to dream of warm times with my #1 girl, 21Y,

--Amy

TAKE ME BACK TO BLAKESBURG!

2010-02-17T01:21:00.002-06:00

That midwinter itch has struck again! I've been stuck on the ground over two months now, and it's getting to the point where I fear permanent twitches will result. Man, this forced cold-turkey quitting is no fun!

Some days I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, and all the excitement of last year has worn off, leaving me with a dull few months. Spring semester always seems to be more hectic, but perhaps that's simply because that bright light at the end of the tunnel--summer, with its promises of warmth and, more importantly, little yellow airplanes--starts to twinkle a little brighter. As if I needed another excuse to daydream about airplanes!

After a particularly stressful night herding cats (or, attempting to organize a Women in Aviation chapter with two people attempting to act as president), I began chatting with my best friend (and boyfriend) about all the things we looked forward to in summer . . . puddle-jumping two Cubs from Wisconsin to Lock Haven for Sentimental Journey, the BARNSTORMING FLY-IN!! (which as you can tell, I'm quite excited for!) Other things include Oshkosh, Brodhead, and Blakesburg, which happens to be one of those few priceless places in the world where everything just seems to be right.

There's just much else to say about that, I guess. Everything is right, though it's always sad to leave because, although Brodhead is next weekend, Blakesburg always seems to signal the end of summer. It has fast become one of my favorite fly-ins (you didn't actually expect me to pick a favorite, did you??) because it is, indeed, a perfect little haven hidden away where seemingly no one can touch it. Here is a well-guarded paradise where people come together and stay together (out of necessity, if nothing else), all here to celebrate cool old airplanes. My kind of people indeed!

It is this environment I miss the most when I'm away from my home airport. I haven't found surroundings that match these gatherings of vintage airplanes for pure passion and encouragement of the passionate pursuit of flying. Everyone truly WANTS to be there. It's easy to forget that feeling when you're surrounding by 14,000 people simply plodding through the daily grind.

However, we cannot lose that attitude . . . without it we have nothing. The passionate people I found at my local airport, supportive and encouraging, made all the difference in fostering my growth and directing my energies. Unfortunately, this evnironment is difficult to come by, especially as a young person. Yet, this situation is the most vital--more young people need to be unquestioningly accepted with open arms by the aviation community, not branded as outsiders and taught to view everyone with an interest in aviation as suspicious.

Let's take Blakesburg to the rest of the world, one ride at a time!

Who COULDN'T fall in love with this??

Jim Koepnick photo, (C) 2009

--Amy!

Polar Opposites

2010-02-16T16:42:00.003-06:00

The end of September brought many different emotions . . . my flying season was being mercifully extended by cooperative weather and a work arrangement that required me to be home every weekend (which was certainly a double-edged sword, being a 5.5-6 hour drive each way). On September 18th, my beloved Sir Duncan the Saab, a 1993 Commemorative Edition Saab 900 Turbo, turned over the much-anticipated 200,000th mile!

Big moment for my little car!

Exactly a week later, Sir Duncan was involved in an extremely unfortunate accident less than a mile from the final highway exit at the tail end of a long drive (I was asleep in the passenger seat while a generous friend helped me get home). It was the second time in two months I woke up to smelling smoke (from the airbag), and the squealing tires weren't a bonus. Once was enough, thank you very much . . .

I KNEW there was no way to save my beloved car no matter how much I wanted to. I spent a lot of the next few days crying, nursing a bruised shoulder and ribs with a swollen ankle. We were fortunate that no one was injured aside from the requisite bumps and bruises, but the emotional pain of having my prized car stolen away from me was bitingly fresh. The fact that I got 1.5 hours of sleep, in the car, before working an eight hour shift on a swollen ankle certainly didn't help my mindset (refused to call in sick . . . too poor!).

Writing this almost five months after the accident reveals not all of the sadness has evaporated. The 4 months following the accident resulted in many disagreements with my dad (I wanted another classic 900, something with character, not a practical, but boring, new 9-3 or 9-5), much tension between my mother and me, and strained my relationship with my good friend who was driving. I drove 8-9 different cars, depending how you count, was stranded in the middle of nowhere once with a failed alternator, and ended up driving a loaner car with the turn signals dangling by the wires. I also got a $300 ticket for not having the car registered (doesn't make much sense when you get a new one to borrow every other week) . . . accepting donations! ; )

I'm sure some of my trouble adjusting had to do the chaotic months preceding the accident, from the house fire to moving back to school, to finding I couldn't transfer my job, which necessitated driving six hours back home every weekend until the hiring freeze was lifted and I could transfer. One of my most prized possessions, one which I distinctly recall being very relieved about knowing it was safe in a detached garage during the house fire, unexpectedly exited my life, leaving me feeling a little unsteady (daily dose of psychology: check).

Things are on the upswing . . . despite the world's best efforts to the contrary, I'm still alive and kicking. There is still a fair amount of residual stress in my life but I'm handling each day as it comes and trying to remember that kick-ass gal I used to know. No worries, with an injection of yellow airplane, she'll be back firing on all cylinders!

It's a new year, and I'm bound to make the best of it!

I know this post is a little off-topic, but I'm trying to explain my unexplained (and unexcusable) absence.

--Amy

P.S. I'm now the title holder of a 1994 Commemorative Edition Saab 900 Turbo . . . convertible!

Brodhead!

2010-02-02T16:32:00.005-06:00

Brodhead, Wisconsin, is normally a pretty sleepy town, graced with a beautiful all-grass airport. Boasting three grass runways and a plethora of rare and gorgeous airplanes (the majority of which fly regularly), Brodhead (C37) hosts several awesome fly-ins each year. I have only been to the Midwest Antique Aircraft Club (MAAC) fly-in the weekend after Blakesburg.

This year I only spent the day there, flying with a friend in his Luscombe 8F. A few highlights:

~Finding a close relative of 21Y's
~Finding a few Bellancas
~Sitting in the grass watching airplanes
~Pork chop night (enough said)
~Beech 18 low pass. Photo says it all.
~Running into a student of mine
~Getting to fly in a radial-engine Hatz biplane because of said student!

On to the pictures . . .

Heck yes!

Cute pipeline patrol art found on a PA-12

I believe this is pretty much the definition of "classy" . . . art on the wing.

Pretty Ryan

After flying the Hatz . . . more on that later :D

Making Time for Fond Memories

2010-02-02T15:45:00.004-06:00

My catching up has slowed, but I have certainly not forgotten. In all actuality, revisiting these warmer times has been therapeutic for me, and revitalizing (I have not been in an airplane since December 11th :'( ). So here's a quick little update, with pictures (we all know pictures are more exciting than pages of characters!).

21Y and I at Maquoketa, Iowa ($1 if you pronounce it correctly on the first try!) . . . this picture always makes me smile. It seems to me like the picture of love--a girl and her favorite Cub : ) Does it get any better than that?!

21Y and I got to share a cover : ) (she IS, after all, a cover model on EAA's 2010 calendar)

Fun stuff! More to come . . .

How Far We've Come!!!

2009-12-31T11:42:00.005-06:00

It's sort of amazing to think I'm doing what I'm doing now. I'm currently sitting in an airport lobby waiting for my very first knowledge test victim to finish his private pilot written. Life is awesome. THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!!!!!

I'm easily one of the luckiest people alive. I may not achieve everything I'd like to but I have the privilege of having been able to live out my dreams and I'm not stopping for anything or anyone. Life is beautiful. I have the most awesome friends, I get to fly the coolest little airplanes and I get to share that with others! Tell me, tell me, does it get any better than this??

I'm definitely way more excited about this knowledge test than Jordan. While he'll be relieved to have it done, I'm finding things to inspect in the lobby and pacing. This must be the definition of the mother hen reaction. I just can't believe I get to do this! Almost exactly a year and a half ago I was at this same airport taking MY private pilot written test. Now I endorsed someone else to take theirs and take the first step towards achieving THEIR dreams!

I keep thinking there can be no purer joy than helping and enabling someone else to chase down their dreams.

This rocks! :)

Best Day

2009-12-21T15:23:00.009-06:00

At Blakesburg, Sunday night marks the annual "Gone Home" awards, as many of the attendees have headed back home to use Labor Day Monday to recuperate and spend time with non-aviation family/friends. Last year I flew back Monday and I enjoyed the Gone Home awards so much I decided to stay (additionally, since I arrived on Saturday I wanted one more day!). 21Y and I eyed up some parking spots closer to the showers but elected not to move since that required moving the tent--too much work for one night, as the additional exercise walking to and from the shower house wasn't going to kill me.

We elected to sleep in til about 9 am, then evaluate what we wanted to do. Sometime around 9:15 Todd rattled the tent and told me there was a little bit of fog so not to worry about dashing out of bed.

A "little" bit of fog . . .

After leisurely getting ready and packing the airplanes, we taxied them over to get gas so that we could take our time eating breakfast and then leave without worrying about being stuck in the gas line. Since we had already packed everything, there was no sense taxiing back to the back 40 where we had been parked before, so we invited ourselves into a Howard group. 21Y has just as much class as a Howard : )

One of these is not like the others . . .

After an hour or so, the first brave souls began departing. Most of the obscuration was now due to haze rather than fog, but we waited a little longer to give our route ample time to clear.

Excited it all fit back in the airplane!

After one last sideslipping pass down the Antique Airfield runway, we were homeward bound. It was a sad feeling, leaving Blakesburg when I had so much fun hanging around airplanes and meeting new people. But it was time to go--I had class on Tuesday and Steve probably wouldn't approve of me airplane-napping 21Y (although I would be lying if I said that it didn't cross my mind . . .).

Somewhere along the line we decided this would be a true classic Cub cross-country (with a Luscombe following). CUB HEIGHT!

I have never had so much fun flying cross-country as on the way back from Blakesburg. I fancied myself a modern-day barnstormer, swooping alongside small Midwestern towns and rocking the wings in response to a groundbound individual's wave. Fresh off of finishing up a compilation of Gordon Baxter's writings, I was full of romance and awe. No one could touch me, and I didn't want them to. With cruising tunes in my ears, I had a soundtrack for life with my favorite airplane, having the most fun I could ever possibly have.

Even 21Y was happier with this method of cruising. On the trip to Blakesburg, we had cruised around 1,000 feet AGL, and running the engine a little harder, as I had on the way to Lock Haven, 21Y pigged out and burned a little over 5 gallons an hour. WHAT?!?!?! Piggish airplane!! On the way back, reaching no higher than 300 feet AGL except over populated areas we couldn't dodge, running her nice and light, around 2150, little 21Y was PULLING AWAY from a Luscombe with a C-90! That's my girl : )

Coolest thing ever!

Farewell Iowa!

The Luscombe finally inched forward enough to make it into the picture ; P

Just a cool view : )

Unfortunately, the pictures don't do the experience justice. But I can tell you it was just perfect--except for the fact that it had to end. But, so it is. On to another adventure : )

--Amy

B'burg Happenings

2009-11-12T01:06:00.012-06:00

21Y and I managed to stay on the ground long enough for me to eat and say hi to a few folks from my airport back home. I felt that familiar itch and knew I'd regret it if I didn't go, so I headed back to the airplane. Todd remarked it was a nice evening and so he came along. We didn't go anything special, just tooled around low and slow, exploring the area around Antique Airfield. I found out Iowa's not nearly as flat as everyone makes it out to be, and even though I had gone to Blakesburg last year, I didn't remember there being as much terrain (maybe that's why I don't fly high . . . can't see where I'm going!).

Sunday morning meant departures for many, but thankfully for me, a fair number were thwarted by fog. That meant A) no unexpected wake up calls, and B) I got to see more airplanes! The ritual walk from the camping area/shower house to the HyVee food stand also meant observing a number of airplanes, and a house I would probably sacrifice some minor appendages for--but only if the lawn ornament comes with! ; )

You see why I'm interested ; )

You son of a Beech! Probably one of the coolest flybys of the weekend!

A purty Lockheed 12 . . . is this the one that was in Amelia?

The "his" half of the his 'n' hers Luscombes

"Hers," and a beautiful one at that!

An adorable Cub with wheelpants, handmade by its owner. I also believe this one is a fairly close relative to 21Y, but I'd have to look up 21Y's original number/serial number.

This is one of the coolest pictures to come out of the fly-in . . . doesn't that just sum it all up?

Now here's a story . . . allow me to elaborate!

Back in Lock Haven, one of the first people to greet me was Les Gaskill, who started off with "I need to take a picture of this . . . a girl in a Cub!" Some time later at Sentimental Journey, I mentioned something about a J2 that was giving rides all weekend at Blakesburg and how I wanted one. Turns out that's Les' airplane! He had flown a friend's PA-11 up (one of the featured airplanes in 2009) but said if he saw me again we'd have to go J2 flying.

Les always brings his J2 and J-3 to Blakesburg, and 2009 was no exception. Feeling every bit a mooch, but recognizing my college student lack of conscience, I patrolled near the J2 regularly. I ran into Les a few times and he again said we'd have to go J2 flying. One evening I noticed him untying the J2 and, tossing my conscience by the wayside, went over to conveniently strike up a conversation. Les told me he was giving a young boy a ride but to hang around so we could go. COOL!

I stayed around a few moments longer to hold the plane while Les propped it, but the A-40 wasn't about to take the J2 off roaring into the sunset. In fact, one of the coolest things was the "engine under water" sound of the A-40 . . . bloop, bloop . . . bloop, bloop.

Of course I followed the J2 back towards the runway like a puppy dog following a hamburger, and set up camp to watch some of the flying. Les told me I could take it out for a bit, which made my eyes get big. I explained I had never flown one and didn't want to break anything. He shrugged and said I'd probably be ok but we'd go out together nonetheless.

The J2 is, hands-down, one of the coolest little old airplanes out there. For some reason I love the three-piece windshield, the oddly slanted panel, the open sides, even the sickly rate of climb. The J2 takes all the purity of a J-3 and further distills it, removing even more of the insulation against the world, taking out the intercom and everything. You cannot deny the cool factor of floating along slowly over rolling countryside, serenaded by the blat blat of the diminutive A-40 up front. Some times we went so slow I think I felt a crosswind through the cockpit. But it didn't matter--life was good!

I found the lighter J2 floats a lot more than 21Y, requiring a go-around, but the second try wasn't bad, though Les commented I got a little slow. Then he tossed out an awesome offer--"If you're at Lock Haven next year and I bring this, you can go out solo."

As if I needed more motivation to make it back to Lock Haven!

See, see!! Les doesn't even look terrified after my landing! (He did the takeoff)

There is something awesome about small fly-ins like Blakesburg. They have an intangible quality with a life all its own--either it's there or it's not, and no conscious efforts to construct it succeed. It's pure fun, and that's about all anyone can say about it.

I have to share 21Y's card, because I was somewhat proud of my perceived cleverness.

Owner: Steve and Sharon Krog, flown by Amy Gesch

Address: Hartford State: Wisconsin

Airplane Type: Piper J-3 Cub Year: 1938 N Number: 9721Y

Engine: A-65 Horsepower: 65 on a good day Cruise Speed: 78, maybe

Gal. Per Hour (Cruising): 4.5-5.0 Gross Weight: 1220 Empty Weight: ~750 (never ask a lady how much she weighs!)

Notes of Interest to AAA Members:

~2-Ply Award Winner, MAAC 2008

~Flew to Lock Haven, PA for Sentimental Journey 2009

~Kidnapped by Amy, taken to Mankato, MN for 3 wks (darn students!)

~Spot landing contest winner, Sentimental Journey 2009

~Former flour bombing champion

~Cover model for 2010 EAA calendar (the airplane, that is!)

~Featured on Canon USA's "Lens of the Month" site (17-40L lens)

~Flown on poker run by Amy and Leah Jones, former Piper ferry pilot

~Working airplane! Flies regularly as flight school's trainer

Little 21Y has quite a list of accomplishments for only having been flying 51 weeks at the time of Blakesburg!

Yup, she's my favorite : )

So Many Things

2009-10-21T17:59:00.001-05:00

My I am behind. Life has been a little hectic, to say the least, although some might argue we cling more tightly to our passions during such times.

In chronological order, the Blakesburg trip dictates the first update. I went into work on Friday grateful I could at least head to Blakesburg on Saturday at all only to find that despite having been placed on the work schedule, I was not supposed to be there. Being entirely unprepared for the trip, tired, and a poor student to boot, I elected to stay (additionally I had only asked to take the airplane beginning on Saturday).

Saturday morning I overslept (after a certain level of exhaustion my body takes over and ignores my alarm, apparently). Luckily for me but not so fortunate for Todd, the Luscombe's tailwheel tube blew, and the easiest way to fix it was to put a Lang tailwheel assembly on to replace the Maule setup. That took enough time for me to get ready and on my way.

21Y all packed up again!

We finally got underway towards our fuel stop in Maquoketa, Iowa. Aside from some haze, it was a perfect day for the trip. As on the trip to Lock Haven, I ran 21Y a little harder, around 2250. Needless to say I was surprised when the 65 which typically sips a dainty 4.6 an hour burned over 5!

Todd in the Luscombe landing at Maquoketa. Cub struts make such nice frames : )

Dare you to try and pronounce it!

She just looked so pretty : )

Somewhere west of Maquoketa there are two giant towers, which all of a sudden seemed to pop out of the haze a few miles ahead. I tried to take a picture of them but with the haze you can hardly tell where they are--hence the surprise!

Flying over some ubiquitous town I spotted a line of cars waiting for a train to pass, and at once felt inexplicably superior, looking down at those poor groundbound folks with so many limits they had to live within. Forward, backward, left, right, when someone else tells you that it's ok is all one knows on the ground. I smiled widely and all at once fell in love with this wonderful little yellow airplane all over again.

Poor souls stuck on the ground

Passing over those unenviable folks on the ground, I wondered if they noticed me at all. Did they ever wonder what it was like to be flying like me? Did they think it was possible or unattainable? It made me wish I could swoop down and offer rides so they could know what it was like. (something tells me that would be frowned upon)

Another hour or so of flying later, we made it! The haze lightened up and a perfect flying evening materialized. We arrived right before dinner so a delightful amount of airplanes were out relishing the opportunity to fly a bit. That made entering the pattern interesting, as some faster aircraft were on a long final, but there's a microwave tower out there if you extend a bit, but then you're way out there if you extend past it (in a different ZIP code for a Cub). It took two go-arounds but I finally made it in and set up camp.

21Y settled in with her neighbors. That lasted about 45 minutes until I decided it was too nice to just sit around and watch other people fly!

More later, but now you know we made it : )

--Amy

Elation

2009-09-02T20:42:00.002-05:00

It was a little hard to write those previous two posts knowing what I know.

Last year I attended the Antique Airplane Association's annual fly-in at Antique Airfield in Blakesburg, Iowa. I had the most fantastic time, and couldn't believe how much I enjoyed it. I had figured it would be fun, but I got addicted to the atmosphere (and the gorgeous airplanes I got to wake up to every day). I vowed to return.

On awards night (casually referred to as the "Gone Home" Awards), I learned of an award for youngest person to fly in to the event in . . . and I started to think maybe, just maybe, I could win something . . . a pre-1956 airplane. Dammit! The Luscombe 8F I flew in was built in 1959. Next year!

Next year is this year. In 2008, I wished I could've been one of those lucky few to bring in a classic yellow Cub. I like the Luscombe, but my heart belongs to the Cub. It's just the way it is, and I can't help it. It simply wasn't in the cards for me to bring a Cub in 2008.

This year it just might be. When I went home last weekend for work, I had two students on Sunday and ended up spending the entire day at the airport (big surprise). I wanted so badly to ask Steve if I could take a Cub, solo, to Blakesburg.

I was terrified to ask, fearing I'd be overstepping my bounds, putting him in a place where he didn't want to say no in the fact of enthusiasm, but didn't really want to send the airplane out. I worried for a week, and then on Sunday, the day I figured to be my last to ask, the worries really set in. I stressed over how to ask, when to ask, second-guessing myself all along. Finally I worked up the courage to gently broach the subject, feeling every bit cowardly and rudely forward.

Steve just smiled and said, "Let's look at the schedule." Without another word, he blocked off 21Y for the whole weekend.

I felt my eyes getting warm and damp. I'm a complete sap. I admit it. But it meant so much to me to see someone giving me such a gift that I couldn't help it.

I'm one lucky kid to have people who will give me these opportunities. I realize that it's extremely rare and I always end up wondering how I got to be so damned lucky.

I haven't figured it out yet. I hope one day I can be that sort of person to others.

I don't know if Steve will ever understand how much this, the trip to Mankato, or the trip to Lock Haven mean to me. I have a feeling he has an inkling, because he gets this twinkle in his eyes when he talks about it, and I think he's remembering when people took a chance on him and believed in him. I know that I cannot adequately put the emotions into words.

My heart gets all fluttery and light when I think about being able to take this trip. The possibility of a weather cancellation exists, of course, but that's beside the point. Steve looked me in the eye and said, "I trust you" when I promised up and down to take care of his baby. That means more than any title or award that's ever been given out in the entire history of the concept of awards. It spurs me to be better at whatever I do, knowing that someone has faith in me to not only be ok, but to be awesome. I'm not sure how to do that yet, but I'm sure as hell going to try to figure it out.

I GET TO FLY A CUB TO BLAKESBURG! NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NAAAAAA!!!! :D :D

--Amy, who will be having the best Labor Day ever! :D

Solo.

2009-09-02T20:30:00.003-05:00

I've since relocated to the campus mall area. Sitting outside by myself, internet radio on, observing the fountain, the twinkling lights, and the others walking around campus, I realize how much I like this isolation at times. It's not to say I'm antisocial, just that I adore my alone time.

I'm a part of something, yet on my own. It's a lot like how I feel about my airport. I feel as though I'm part of a [slightly dysfunctional] family, yet I know we're all independent, very different creatures united by a common love.

In some ways, sitting out here, part of a crowd yet entirely alone, reminds me of solo flying. I know I'm a part of something--the airplane, the aviation community, but I'm also all on my own, left to contemplate everything from my purpose in life to what I'm hungry for. It's a beautiful thing, to be alone and not lonely. I love it.

I love my friends. I love my family. But I sure do love just being me, without excuses.

Those little yellow airplanes are perfect facilitators for those emotions. They don't take excuses. They could care less what I'm wearing, who I'm friends with, what my grades are, what time it is or where we are or how hot or cold it is. They simply are.

I'm envious of that. In the rush of life, we forget to just be. We're caught up with living up to the standards of others and we neglect what we are to ourselves. You can't get through life ignoring what others think of you, but you can't thrive without being something to yourself.

Perhaps that's what I like so much about airplane people. We have an enviable ability to be things in our work lives--accountants, technicians, investors, mechanics, executives--but we have escaped identifying ourselves by what we are to others. We are pilots, and that's how we think of ourselves. Our identity is, as such, wholly our own.

I'm reminded of the 2-year-old daughter of an "airport person"--when asked what her dad did, she replied, "My daddy's a pilot." That's not his occupation but it's what he is to both her and him. How cool is that?

--Amy

Double-Edged

2009-09-02T19:34:00.004-05:00

A week after the occurrence I'm finally getting around to writing this. Life has been crazy, but otherwise I'd get bored. C'est la vie.

I had mixed feelings about returning to school. I was definitely looking forward to seeing the awesome people that I get to call my friends, but I knew I'd experience that familiar ache that comes from leaving my favorite airport, airport people, and of course, those little yellow airplanes behind.

In some ways, it's great to be back. My friend Kim and I visited the aviation learning community (a floor of freshman aviation majors designed to start the networking process and establish a support network) to talk about some of MSU's aviation organizations. It turned into a reminiscing and teasing session with some of the familiar faces--Ryan, a fellow learning community member from last year now manages this year's LC. Matt lives in a nearby residence hall and came to visit as well. Between the four of us, I'm sure we adequately confused the new LC members by spending most of the time joking around. It felt, in some ways, like coming home.

On the other hand, I walked out of class last Wednesday (the first week of classes--now I'm back in the same class of 200 getting fidgety) to see a stunning skyscape. The clouds glowed red, striated in varying degrees of fiery colors.

Oh, to have seen that sight from the air . . .

Any given glorious day, my heart yearns and pines for those airplanes that make life so worthwhile. I have no desire to sit inside this oversized auditorium learning about computer-based information systems on a CAVU evening like this. All I want is a classic airplane with the little wheel in the back, and some alone time. It's communion time, me time, sometimes the only time in which everything just feels right. Take that away and I lose some of that spring in my step and that overly romantic side of myself that is so in love with life and all it has to hold.

I guess I'm not sure what this year will hold. I'm excited about working with MSU's Women in Aviation chapter, aviation club, flight team, and Alpha Eta Rho, but unlike most of my peers, I do far less flying here since I don't fly through the university flight school. Seeing my friends work on new ratings and accomplish so many things is awesome, but it has a negative edge as well. I get to see others doing the things I want to do so badly, but cannot because life has simply not dealt me that hand at this stage in my life.

But that's life. I'll deal. Some things go my way, some things don't. You roll with the punches and make the best of it--and some times it works out far better than you could have ever fathomed.

So here we go, and I'll make the best of whatever comes my way. On my down days, something will remind me of flying, and it never fails to make me feel as though I have secret that no one will ever know or understand. I can fly. I can escape. I can be at home above the earth. It makes me feel special, as though I've got something up on a world that some days seems determined to break me down and grind me beneath an omnipotent toe.

A friend sent me a picture a while back of a toddler she babysits grinning in an airplane ride in the mall. She said it reminded her of me because I was always smiling in the airplane.

I never even realized I did that. But it certainly is right.

On those down days, I'll just look up and remember I have a fantastic privilege that few will experience and even fewer will ever truly understand.

Very special, indeed.

--Amy

Pilot

2009-08-19T15:24:00.002-05:00

I realized a few nights ago, while reading Gordon Baxter's Bax Seat: Log of a Pasture Pilot that not many understand the joy and privilege of being able to fly. I had come home from work, surrounded by a very nice group of people, admittedly, but a group of people that did not know the world I knew. When they went home, they were simply tired. When I went home I looked forward to being able to fly the next day, something it seemed like none of them had ever considered.

I listened to a coworker talk to a a compatriot about spending over $1,000 on a computer to better play video games on. I had to shake my head to myself and wonder how the world of aviation did not fascinate people to look beyond the insides of their houses and computer monitors.

But at the end of the day, I still marveled at the fact that I could say "I am a pilot. I can fly!" If that's not the coolest thing ever, I'm not sure what is.

So, how to draw our peers out of the literal and figurative caves?

--Amy

All Things in Perspective

2009-08-05T23:41:00.016-05:00

This time I really do have a good reason for a delayed update . . . as if Oshkosh weren't a good enough reason!

My house started on fire.

Yes, I'm serious.

The culprit? My black Lab, who, in a temper tantrum attempted to snag something off the counter and turned the toaster on. Apparently you're not supposed to leave your toaster plugged in, as they are on of the top causes of house fires. How nice of the fireman to tell me that after he punched out the windows and smashed the front door in.

It's an interesting experience, waking up to a smoke-filled room, realizing you can't make it downstairs because it's too hot and smoky. An interesting experience, being unable to get a window open as the smoke gets thicker and hotter. An interesting experience, hearing your home crackling in flames beneath your feet.

It's quite surprising how calm the 911 operator is as you struggle to find a window that will open, terrified that someone else is still in the house. Even more surprising is the little things that come to mind--is some of my overnight face mask still on? I didn't want to be rescued with white face mask still on . . .

It's a memorable sound, that of glass and wood giving way to a fireman's ax below you as you wait for a ladder.

It's a tremendous feeling of relief when the dog climbs out the window and onto the top of a first floor porch with you, safe but shaken. A tremendously pitiable moment when all 75 lbs of her are carried down the ladder, quivering with dinner plate-sized eyes and her tail nearly touching her nose.

It's a huge relief when you realize everyone is ok. A huge strain to your heart when you realize you may have lost all of the photos you've taken over the past six years, a huge strain when you think all your identities may have been melted, and that your cherished logbooks may have been turned to ash.

Things come into focus. The first concern was my mother. Had she left for work? Was she out of the house, or still in the basement with no knowledge of the fire on the first floor? Next was Brandy, my dog. Knowing she'd be terrified and confused, I knew I could never live with myself if she had been hurt or worse. My next concern was not for my clothes or computer, but rather for the memories stored on hard drives and DVDs. I cannot convey how difficult it was to leave my computer in the house after the fire had been extinguished, but otherwise it was not eligible for insurance coverage.

It's amazing how much money you need to rebuild your life temporarily. Our insurance company gave us $3000 with which to buy food, clothes, and toiletries. At the end of the first day we had spent half of that, but had little to show for it. We had clothes and finally got a shower at 9 pm, but those are the sorts of things you don't normally have to worry about on a day-to-day basis. All the little things add up. Nail clippers. $0.97. Pencil sharpener. $0.88. Shower gel. $2.74. Jeans. $19.99. Socks. $9.74. It all adds up.

After our basic needs were satisfied, the whole ordeal evolved into a giant pain in the ass. It's a giant mess, a baby that needs constant watching and tending to. The contractors need to know what to do, and we need to know what the insurance company will allow them to do. We're caught in the middle of a paperwork shuffle, and that's somewhere no one wants to be.

Our insurance company has been fantastic throughout the entire experience. I needed a computer for my photo work up at Oshkosh, and when we found out that mine had gotten fried on Friday before the convention, we had a check by the afternoon and a new computer that evening. I loaded the software that night and departed for Oshkosh Sunday morning. They've been just awesome and I cannot say enough about how kind they've been and how easy it has been to deal with them.

That doesn't mean it's not hard at times. Some days I would really like to just go home. It doesn't matter if my house had outdated decor or if it was always cluttered, it was home. It doesn't matter if we hadn't seen the true color of our carpets since they were installed since Brandy sheds so much and her hair is impervious to vacuums. It's home, worn in and lived in. It's a fixture in many memories and stories, and suddenly it's boarded up like an old tenement, condemned as unfit for inhabiting.

I went to pick up my tent out of the garage (thankfully, detached) and felt like an intruder at my own home. The temporary lighting was installed and on, but I could see the smoke staining on the back door and reminded me of what it looked like inside--burned out and empty. It was eery, seeing the ghostlike streaks of smoke residue on the window. The house had a story, clearly, but it did not yet have a happy ending.

It will, eventually. In due time, our house will be better than it was, and we'll be better off than we were. One just has to keep the faith.

The moral of this rambling? Events like a house fire put things in perspective. Where do things fit in?

Although the whole experience really threw all my Oshkosh planning out the window, the convention was truly a therapeutic experience. My week camping at Oshkosh was the most settled I had been in a week, and it was a week filled with visiting old friends, making new ones, and seeing some very cool airplanes. It's always worth the stress.

Something like this truly makes you appreciate your family more (arsonist dogs included). You can't remember being scared at the time, only hurried in your pursuit of a solution. It's when you look back, think about things and how they worked out, that you realize how much worse it could have been. It's then you become thankful for what you have and recognize how important your family and friends are to you.

So, all things in perspective, I'm still addicted to airplanes and I wouldn't give them up for the world. I even commented to my mom, "Well, I'm not going to make it into work today, so I may as well head to the airport!" (Unfortunately I did not make it out there that day) I know that flying is still immensely important to me, because it evokes emotions within me that nothing else can. That's how I know it's so important. And after all, life is pretty short, so why waste time trying to justify something you love? Go for it!

Ok, ok . . . on to the dirt!

Previously a toaster and counter with overhead cabinets

The fire was hot enough that it melted our ancient plastic blinds in the living room. The fire restoration specialist told us that meant it was 800-900 deg. F in the living room (this was when I realized my computer and hard drives would need professional help).

Smoke damage all the way up stairs . . . very heavy throughout the house, and directly adjacent to the living. The heavy smoke and high temperatures were high Adam, who was visiting at the time, and I could not go downstairs to get out.

The window Adam, Brandy, and I escaped out of. Adam had knocked the screen out so we could get out, but the fire department broke it to ventilate the house as the smoke was quite thick.

Hot enough that it peeled the paint off the door frame next to the kitchen. The mess to the left was the kitchen ceiling.

Formerly a kitchen

Because of the construction of our house, the firemen had to rip out sections of the wall to ensure the fire was not burning inside the walls. The good news? That terrible wallpaper is going away!

The humbling part . . . this outlet is next to and under the bed I was sleeping in. Smoke was seeping through the outlet and along the seam between the wall and floor. In hindsight, it was a good thing we couldn't get the first window we tried open . . . it was directly overhead the kitchen and would have sucked the fire upwards.

Illustrating the scope of smoke damage--that's the outline of papers I had stored in that dresser, with the drawer closed. (At least the yellow carpet is going!)

There are more, but I think you catch my drift. The insurance adjuster told us he initially thought when my mom called that it was just a small kitchen fire (she thought so too, when I called her once we were off the roof and safely on the ground). I responded, "No, no . . . little kitchen, BIG FIRE." All told, Brandy's temper tantrum and curious nose caused approximately $90,000 in damage.

I'm pretty sure my dog starting my house on fire beats out Marley eating a gold necklace for the title of World's Worst Dog.

But damned if you just can't help but love those big brown eyes and soft ears!

We'll be ok. But it sure does put things in perspective.

Keep flying!!

--Amy

P.S. Unplug your toasters! (And irons, apparently those follow toasters in numbers of fires caused)

P.P.S. Endless thanks to all of those who have been so kind . . . from the fireman that took my trembling pooch down to safety to those who made sure the fire was out to the neighbors I hadn't met before who offered clothes and a place to stay to the kindest insurance adjuster you'll ever meet to the sympathetic woman who gave us an extra discount on our clothes purchase to everyone who has offered support. We are truly and eternally grateful (and as much as I like to joke about the firemen breaking down my front door before putting a ladder up to us, I'm extremely thankful for their speedy response and their great kindness).

Flying Again

2009-07-17T00:37:00.018-05:00

I remember a clip from the aviation movie One Six Right. An elderly gentleman is recalling his early flying days, and he says "I wrote in my logbook, 'This is a love story.'" This picture makes me realize how true that statement is.

Meet Leah. She's an 82-years-young former Piper employee who worked in final assembly and was also a ferry pilot during her tenure at Piper from 1946-1951. She has been attending Sentimental Journey for a while. She is the last of a group of Piper ferry pilots that called themselves the "Herd O' Turtles" and brings a former comrade's book, Close Encounters of a Vagabond Ferry Pilot, to a few fly-ins each year. She is working on a book of her own, tentatively titled Herd O' Turtles: One Girl's View From a Thousand Feet, More or Less. She ferried J-3s in a skirt and has the pictures to prove it!

Steve and Sharon have gotten to know Leah fairly well over the past years and introduced me to her on Tuesday. It took a few days to fully realize what a spunky woman she truly is! Her mind and wit are as quick as ever. Steve offhandedly suggested Leah and I go flying sometime when the weather cooperated. Two girls in a Cub--it doesn't get much better than that!

The weather, of course, had other plans. I was grounded until Thursday for the spot landing competition, but the forecast for Friday was supposed to be decent. 2009 marked the second year of the Sentimental Journey Poker Run, organized and run by Camp FUBAR. Jordan suggested that would be a good opportunity to take Leah out in 21Y. Friday morning I asked Leah if she'd be up for it. She was apprehensive at first, mainly about getting into the airplane, but Jordan promised to help, so she agreed. I pulled our first card at Camp FUBAR (and no, I'm not making that up) and we headed to our waiting chariot.

Despite some stiff joints, Leah got settled into the Cub fairly easily.

Back in the saddle!

Ready to go!

We departed and headed down the valley towards our first stop, Bellefonte. I knew that while Leah was looking at the same patches of land I was, she was seeing a different world, 60 years ago. I remarked how I planned on following the valley down to a pass through the ridge since 21Y's compass is unreliable at best. I asked if she had flown this way before when ferrying Cubs. She replied "It was the road out," in a voice that hinted slightly at the memories I'm sure were flooding back into consciousness.

Soon after establishing us in level flight, I asked Leah if she would like to fly me to Bellefonte. My heart fell when she declined, saying she'd like to enjoy the view. She mentioned that she would like to practice some slow flight and stalls with an instructor to get the feel of the airplane again, so I told her I'd make sure she and Steve got to go flying sometime. I was sure she would enjoy flying again, but she also had to be comfortable doing so.

Leah picked the second card at Bellefonte. Bellefonte, by the way, is the skinniest runway I've ever landed on. 40 feet wide, paved, and I did it from the front seat! I was relieved to have that out of the way, as I was somewhat concerned about it, especially from the front.

The next stop was Centre, an immensely wide, gently rolling grass runway. We followed a pink Champ in, as we had been doing since takeoff. I picked a card at Centre and we were off again.

We flew over Lock Haven again en route to Jersey Shore, a beautiful grass airport east of Lock Haven. Someone was mowing the runway so I held off on descending. Noting myself quite high, I put 21Y into a good, aggressive slip, to be rewarded by a quiet chuckle from the back seat. "Oh my, I do love slips," Leah commented. "I missed them."

I'm not sure who smiled more the entire trip.

Two very different generations of Cub pilots, with an awful lot in common. You see, some things really haven't changed that much over the years. There's still endless joy in simple pleasures like flying, and still people who can think of nothing better to do with their spare time.

We returned to Lock Haven, where a spirited eight-year-old girl named Christianna picked our last card (more on Christianna later; she was my bombardier in the flour bomb drop contest). It turns out none of us are any good at picking cards for a poker hand, but, as Leah said, "We had more fun than all the rest of them!"

I'm pretty sure she was right.

Despite pitiful poker skills, all smiles!

I reminded a very busy Steve about flying with Leah and gave him a weather update. Later that day he told Leah to come back after she returned some things to her hotel room--they were going flying!

The sun beamed through for the first time all day, and the field came alive with flying. Leah arrived and we brought the airplane over by the gate (the entire field was a nasty spongy consistency after so much rain, riddled with mucky puddles).

Two Cubs in one day!

Ready for some dual! I believe this marked the first time Leah had flown and logged Cub time in over 20 years.

Once getting Steve and Leah on their way, Jordan and I dashed over to 21Y with my camera in tow to chase them down and try to get some pictures.

BEAUTIFUL place!

Click on the picture to better see the Cub. Leah said in a later email, "Some of those pictures, especially of lil yellow Cub meandering along the ridge, through the gap and following the river cut through some 60 years of living mostly on memories."

Leah landing back at Lock Haven. She and Steve flew to Jersey Shore to shoot some practice landings after tooling around. Despite being 10 miles up the valley, Leah had never been there in all her years. Then she went twice on one day!

Two happy campers! Steve had always wanted to go flying with Leah, but it simply hadn't been in the cards previous years.

In retrospect, Leah commented: "This has to be one of the luckiest, happiest old birds flying."

That Friday marked the one-year-anniversary of receiving my private pilot's license. I still can't get past the significance of those two days--and quite honestly, I find the anniversary far more important than the actual checkride day. It was my license that allowed me to fly with Leah, but the experience of getting to fly with her has been one of the greatest things that ever happened to me so far--and I'm sure it will always rank "up there."

I think that's part of why I love flying so much. It has spurred me to live by the motto "Live beyond yourself." Not beyond your means, but beyond yourself . . . beyond the limitations of your everyday life and everyday expectations. It allows us to be something more, above and beyond it all, for a little while, and it's tremendously refreshing. It's not everyday that I can make someone's day or make a dream come true.

No matter how expensive it ever becomes . . . how restrictive the government tries to be . . . how disliked GA may be . . . it is always, always, always worth it all.

Even more so when you can share it.

You can make dreams come true, and that's not something everyone can do.

--Amy

Revelations

2009-07-16T22:53:00.002-05:00

When I took my sport pilot CFI knowledge test, I also took the Advanced Ground Instructor test (and passed). To get my certificate, I finally wandered down to the FSDO to have an inspector sign off on my knowledge test and issue me a temporary certificate.

While in the neighborhood, I stopped by Midwest Airlines' maintenance facility to say hello to a friend of mine who works there. While he dashed to a meeting about the changes they would face after being bought by Republic Airways, I kicked back at his cubicle. I spotted two old Midwest spoons sitting on his desk, which, when combined with errant MD-80 and 717 return schedules formed a humbling timeline. From the days of china and full meals airlines have progressed to fee-riddled entities lacking in character. I wonder what will happen to Midwest under its new ownership, but moreover, the visual representation of the decline of the airline industry struck me.

Even examining Midwest's old and new logos made me think. The old scripty logo seemed much grander, but perhaps I'm just nostalgic. It seems a symbol of happier, more prosperous times when flying was still exciting and exotic to the general public.

It's debatable whether the changes to the airline industry we've seen over the past months will work in the long run, but that's not really the point. I simply find it startling how much aviation has changed in the past ten years (I had some delicious cinnamon pancakes on a Midwest MD-80 ten years ago, on airline china), and hardly for the better.

I guess my point is, we've been headed downhill and we're not doing enough to stop the descent. The sport pilot/light sport aircraft rule is a great start, but it can't be of much help unless we bring more new pilots in. The challenge is to bring the emotion back to flying again, where it isn't about shuffling a herd of passengers from point to point.

It's shocking how many changes I've witnessed in my short life, and they unnerve me. It's akin to sitting coach class on a runaway train, wondering what will be done to save the day while feeling entirely unable to affect the outcome. And I don't like that feeling.

Perhaps that's why I identify so much with airplanes like the Cub. Cubs are not about efficiency, expediency, ease of use, or convenience. They are entirely about emotion--when you're flying a Cub, you are not distracted by anything other than the million-dollar view mere inches away. You become a part of the airplane and wholly immersed in the experience.

In short, we need to insure the future of aviation now, by bringing pure fun and excitement back into the equation.

I hope I can be a part of that with my new CFI-SP ticket!

--Amy

P.S. I need students!

The Girl in the Cub

2009-07-14T15:30:00.014-05:00

More Lock Haven tales, almost a month after the fact!

The weather was absolutely horrid all day Wednesday, the first half of Thursday, the second half of Friday, and less than desirable on Saturday too.

It rained. A LOT. Every night. At about 6 on Saturday morning my poor tent finally couldn't take any more and I began to feel faint drips infiltrating my previously dry haven. It took four nights and about eight straight hours of rain Friday night/Saturday morning, but my tent was finally beaten into submission. I took refuge under my sleeping bag for a while, updating my logbook, but eventually I decided to pack up as much as I could take to the shower house and hope the rest stayed dry. Of course, when I left the shower house it had stopped raining. Figures.

Shockingly, 21Y stayed almost completely dry, save for one dribble down the left window. Dan did an excellent job restoring her! In fact, due to the uncertainty of my tent and lack of hanging space, I draped my towel over the seats to dry. It worked quite well!

Thursday:

Sentimental Journey was the first fly-in I had attended with a spot landing contest and bomb drop contest. Since I had never done either, I decided I would enter. Despite the opportunity for public humiliation I vowed I'd have fun nonetheless, and surely no one could fault me for trying.

When I went to sign up for the spot landing contest, I was the third entrant, and I was beginning to get a bit nervous. A girl and a Cub can disappear in a crowd fairly easily, but it's hard to forget when there are only three! Thankfully, the weather cleared up just in time for the competition and a total of 16 pilots had registered at that time. I felt better knowing a dismal performance would likely not be as noticeable then.

A bit of background: My airplane neighbors had pointed out a blue-and-yellow Taylorcraft and white-and-purple Kitfox that frequented the pattern continuously, even on the not so pretty times of the day. They told me they were very active in flying during the fly-in and typically took first place in the spot landing and bomb drop contests. When I told them I wanted to enter, they told me the Taylorcraft and the Kitfox were sure to win. I was somewhat intimidated but hey, this is supposed to be fun, right?

I was in the first group of four airplanes and took up a position as either the third or fourth airplane (third I believe). It was my first time flying since arriving in Lock Haven on Tuesday, and it was sunny out finally! Lock Haven is situated in a beautiful valley and my two short trips around the pattern gave me a chance to fully appreciate my surroundings.

I was surprised at the size of the patterns flown by some of the other aircraft but did my best to stay in closer (21Y, like any Cub, gets frightened when flying large patterns and higher than 2,000 feet AGL, unless for the sake of spins). The approach was looking good but the trick was to figure out how much space I needed to properly flare and touch down. In the briefing the rules had been outlined loosely--it was not stated that you had to make a three-point landing but the judges couldn't very well say you could just slam the mains onto the ground, bounce back into the air, and call that a landing. I'm more comfortable with three-point landings so I just decided to go that route.

The first landing was sweet! I can't say that about all of them, but I was thrilled that I made a nice landing in front of a bunch of people! I knew it was pretty close but it was hard to tell how far from the orange line we settled. The second landing was farther from the line but it wasn't terrible. Within 15 minutes, it was over. As I taxied back it was fun to see people wave at me--so I waved back! Some even clapped (a lot of the wives and other women pilots seemed to be clapping--I felt like a poster child for a moment).

One of the judges held up one finger at me. What did that mean? There's no way I could be in first place . . .

Then he called over the radio, "Nice job, 21Y, you're in first place."

I laughed and told 21Y she was a darling little Cub and that she had done well. I taxied back and Jordan (who works for Cub Club/Luscombe Association/Taylorcraft Owner's Club) helped me tie down 21Y. "They were nice landings," he said, "but 35 feet won't win." I must've had a confused look on my face, because he then added, "I'm just kidding, you're in first place with two feet!" (my second landing was 35 feet from the line)

I'm sure I grinned wildly. How funny to have been so worried and then put up a decent attempt! I walked back by the runway to watch the rest of the competition. I was getting nervous again . . . how cool would it be if I won?!? But wouldn't it be a bummer to watch someone beat you if you got your hopes up? Either way, I was extremely curious and wanted to watch. At some point in time, one of the spectators yelled up to the watch tower "Who's in first?" To which Ed Watson, airport director and VP of Sentimental Journey, replied "The girl in the Cub!"

That was pretty cool. I was now "the girl in the Cub." That seemed like a pretty awesome title to have!

12 other aircraft completed their two attempts and in the end, 21Y and I were still in first place! I was reminded of a time prior to leaving for Lock Haven when I had jokingly said to Steve, "What would you do if I actually won the spot landing competition?" He had replied, with a chuckle, "I might even take a picture with you!" (he did not do so, for the record)

It was sort of weird afterwards . . . people knew who I was. One man was walking behind me and called out "Amy!" and when I turned around he said "I just wanted to see if that was you . . . you're the girl who won the spot landing contest, right?" I would be lying if I said the 15 minutes of fly-in fame wasn't fun, but I did find it funny. I made two landings and all of a sudden people recognized me. Of course, being female helps, but there were at least two other female contestants, one of whom placed second.

Somewhere out there one of my airplane neighbors (the whole group was congratulatory and probably quite surprised) has photos of the first landing, but I haven't received them yet. Maybe someday I will get them, but maybe not, and I certainly understand how one can get behind with pictures!

The less-than-stellar weather--there are some decent-sized towers on this ridge, and they, along with the top of the ridge, were invisible for almost two days. Yuck!

Yours truly and the spot landing/bomb drop trophy, with W. T. Piper in the background

A proud 21Y

A decent turnout despite some miserable weather before/during the fly-in

Meandering around the ridges on Friday, when the weather was finally clear for a decent amount of time! (Jordan got tossed into the front seat and was flying at this time while I was shooting--we were chasing down Steve in the other Cub, but more on that later)

What a view!

Life is good!

We had plenty of time to appreciate where we had been, but that's fine by me!

Lock Haven kaleidoscope

Life is good!

--Amy

Relief

2009-07-07T22:32:00.002-05:00

I passed my sport pilot CFI checkride today!! It has been very busy recently. I just got a part time cashier job at a local Sam's Club which I'm very glad to have. I'm finishing up training for that and will be cashiering part time and instructing part time as well.

More on the CFI process and a continuation of Lock Haven later this week : )

--Amy

Going Home: 21Y Returns to Lock Haven

2009-06-26T02:15:00.011-05:00

Aviation has some of the most stunningly generous people you'll ever find. An opportunity to fly to the Sentimental Journey Piper fly-in in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania, was presented to me. Unfortunately, my savings account was fairly exhausted from three weeks of having 21Y in Mankato, and I hadn't heard back on any of my job applications, so I turned the offer down reluctantly. A week or so later, Steve pulled me aside for a "serious moment." Somehow, some way, who and how shall remain unbeknownst to me, someone had come forward with a monetary donation to cover my expenses for the trip.

There are not words to effectively convey the emotions that come from receiving such a gift. It seems inexplicable that someone should feel so motivated as to make this opportunity a reality. When I think about it, each time I marvel at the generosity of this anonymous person. What makes me worthy of this gift?

I may never know. But I do know that I accepted it with the understanding that in the future I will help others be exposed to aviation, and help them to achieve their dreams and further their experience.

There's too many happenings to possibly include in one post, so here's the trip out.

We planned to be wheels up by 7:00 Monday (June 15th) in order to clear the area affected by a presidential TFR around Chicago. That meant Steve and I were meeting at the airport at 6:15 to load up the two Cubs and Sharon would meet us around 6:30.

I BEAT STEVE TO THE AIRPORT!

We both ran a little late, and then packing the airplanes took longer than expected (I ended up carrying Sharon's bag in the front seat of 21Y after it became clear it wouldn't fit in the Cub Steve and Sharon were taking). As such, we left about ten minutes late but made good time and cleared the affected area with time to spare--thankfully saving us a half hour or so.

You're supposed to have tailwinds from west to east at this latitude. However, my luck struck again and we were bucking 15-20 knot headwinds the whole way. That made for a long day of flying into the sun, with the last 2.5 hour leg offering up some steady bumps. The entire day amounted to about 7.5 hours of flying to our overnight stop in New Castle, Pennsylvania, where we visited with a friend of Steve and Sharon's. Lack of sleep, lack of food, squinting all day, and several hours of getting bounced around produced one of the most horrendous headaches I've ever suffered. I spent most of the night hiding from light and sound but was recovered by the end of the night.

The next day we finished up the last leg to Lock Haven--21Y's home! Call me a sap if you want, but they don't call it Sentimental Journey for nothing. Sitting on the grass, surveying a field of Cubs, one couldn't help but soak in the history of the place. The constant drone of Cubs taking to the air and returning, combined with the sound of trains rolling by the railyard where they used to deliver engines, was strikingly emotional. 71 years after her birth, 21Y had returned home. She had a different tail, a new style skylight, and a different N-number, but she was home. The ground where we camped and flew from was where she took her first baby steps as an airplane. It was the site of test flights, triumphs, tragedies, hellos and goodbyes. It was abuzz with activity, and now, it is eerily silent. Ghosts linger in the form of the original Piper factory, now a warehouse facility (but still with the overhead fuselage rail transport system in place), Piper hangars, now used as maintenance and FBO facilities, a mostly empty railyard, houses, and of course, former Piper employees.

A clear day where we could see Chicago!

Cubs and airliners--Chicago's a busy place!

Cargo Cub--21Y hauling Sharon's bag as well as my cushion, pillow, overnight bag, tie downs, chocks, oil, paper towels, maps, GPS, spare headsets and intercom, handheld radio, and a veritable pantry of snacks stored on the hat shelf!

The two Cubs on the ground at our first fuel stop in Goshen, Indiana. A very long leg at 3.5 hours! There was an adorable beagle in the FBO named Trenton.

En route to our next stop in Tiffin, Ohio.

On the ground at Tiffin. Had a wonderful chat and visit with some people who had restored a few L-4s and were in the process of finishing up another beautiful L-4. Also met a very friendly standard poodle.

At some point in time, Piper Bear, my only traveling companion, appeared as though he had given up. Thankfully he did not fall completely as I had bungee-corded him in place.

The Goodyear blimp hangar in Akron, Ohio.

The definition of loneliness: alone in an airplane (I was unable to spot Steve and Sharon in the other Cub at this point in time) surrounded by nothing but trees and hills. Every time I looked down at that rather forbidding terrain, I subconsciously eased back on the stick.

You can see some of the summer haze that is apparently quite common in that area. It was the first time I had seen it and it certainly made me uneasy. The cloud cover was mostly overcast, and I couldn't detect where the haze ended and the clouds began. Since there is basically nowhere to go if you have to dodge weather in a hurry, I was slightly uncomfortable. It was an excellent experience to have under my belt, with Steve and Sharon watching over me from behind.

Finally made it and set up camp! Within minutes of my landing and parking, my airplane neighbors came over to offer to help me set up the tent!

There are many parts of the trip I didn't capture--seeing a C-47 parked on the ramp in Lansing, Illinois, as we flew past, Steve wandering south as he attempted to troubleshoot his new GPS, the embarrassing groundspeeds (once as low as 57 mph), massive towers in Ohio, and the New Castle, PA, airport (the only one without a dog!). It was such an amazing experience, it's difficult to sum it up adequately. It was, bluntly, one hell of an experience, especially in an airplane with a dishonest compass. Over the less-populated areas of Pennsylvania with no roads for reference, I would get misled by the direction of the ridges, using them as east/west indicators. It was a good idea in theory, except the ridges don't run directly east/west (or even close), so I would find myself continually and unintentionally drifting off course. I learned about my personal weather minimums and the importance of good guidance. I also learned that the intersection of dehydration, exhaustion, squinting, and hunger is not a pleasant place to be.

All in all, an incredibly fun, worthwhile trip. More later!

--Amy

P.S.

2009-06-14T01:30:00.002-05:00

A short article was published about A Flying Story in the June/July issue of Midwest Flyer. Hopefully it will bring a few more people here : )

I always welcome comments here or emailed to aflyingstory (at) gmail.com!

--Amy

Little Things

2009-06-14T00:46:00.000-05:00

Some times small things make you stand up and take notice. A sunset, a smile, a simple "have a nice day." Recently I've had a lot of little things that have made me ponder and realize that life is, indeed, pretty good. Small things have given me pause to recognize how lucky I am, and that realization has once again brought me to the task of sharing the joy flying has brought me.

June 2nd: Al from the across the runway at Hartford cruises by in his Super Decathlon at sunset. He stops by Steve's hangar, pops the door open and gestures for a passenger. Steve volunteers me, and I'm thrilled to go! We climb to a safe altitude and do some loops and rolls, then Al asks me if I'd like to try some. I say I'd love to, but, being vertically challenged, I can barely reach the rudder pedals. He says " maybe next time" (I can go again?!?!), and then does another loop. He tells me to try one of those, which turns into three in a row. The view never gets old. Each time we crest the loop and I look up at the ground I've just cheated, I can't help but smile and laugh slightly. Life is good.

Al forgets I told him I couldn't reach the pedals very well and suggests an aileron roll. I try and find I can reach enough for what's needed. The first few are sloppy by my measure, but Al says they're not bad and we do some more. I get better and supposedly do a good job--nothing ever fell out of the seat pockets or floated up from the depths of the floor! I'm wary of over-rolling my welcome, but I could do this all day!

It is getting dark though. Al asks if I would like to land and I respond "Sure!," trying not to sound too overeager (but I am!). Trying to lose a healthy chunk of altitude, I extend the pattern a good deal and still end up floating halfway down the unlit grass runway (I was not quite gutsy enough to try the pavement). We end up going around on that approach. The second time seems much better, although I can't see any of the instruments from the back seat (but I'm used to that, from Cub flying). I can manage without the instruments, but as we approach the airport, the runway disappears completely and I end up drifting to the side. Al directs me more to the right and I bounce us spectacularly. He laughs and we just let the airplane finish bouncing with the stick locked back. Oh well. Can't grease 'em all!

Back by Steve's hangar, I disengage myself from the two seat belts holding the airplane on and hop out. I can feel the involuntary grin on my face and thank Al profusely. He gives me quite the compliment by telling Steve, "She's a hell of a stick . . . if I would've known she was that good, I would've put her in the front seat!" I still smile when I remember that, and when I remember the way the earth seemed to gently arc around the Decathlon.

It strikes me that this is precisely why I love flying, whether doing loops in a Decathlon or putt-putting around in the Cub. A simple variance in perspective changes everything. It's why we love flying. In the sky, we are different. We are above the petty cares of daily life. Some people elect not to fly because of the price--I say it never weighs on my mind for those glorious moments, and that's all that matters. I'll find a way to make it work, because those moments are worth it, when I feel completely at home and fulfilled.

Thanks Al : )

June 5th: I leave my house early (for once) to get to the airport, a 45-minute drive, by 8:30 to get checked out in Steve's Super Cruiser. I notice a funny noise and stop my car in the middle of the driveway. The left front tire is completely flat. I grumble, call my dad, and ask if he thinks the bead will survive the 1,000 foot trip to the gas station. He says to use the air compressor he recently loaned my brother. I drive across the lawn to no avail--I can't find the attachment to fill the tire.

Royally upset, I angrily get in my car and drive to the gas station at no more than 5 mph maximum, 4-ways flashing methodically as other drivers get mad at me. Somehow the bead survives this trip, and I breathe a sigh of relief as the tire fills with air. Then the air hose is removed, and the whooshing continues. The tire is deader than a doornail, with the ruptured steel belt protruding menacingly. So much for that idea.

The mechanics at the shop put my spare on for me (which was also flat, but thankfully held air)--despite the fact that I consider myself moderately automotively adept, I couldn't have broken the bolts without an air tool. I worry about the bill, having heard nothing back from the numerous businesses I submitted job applications to. I'm mad that things have gone very awry the one day I'm excited to have plans, and the one day I leave early.

I ask how much I owe the two mechanics who helped me. They both say not to worry about it. I thank them sincerely, make a mental note to bring them a gift, and hold back the tears that always want to come when I'm truly touched by an act of generosity.

I didn't get checked out in the Super Cruiser that day. I didn't get to make my lunch flight. I was so tired I didn't get much done at all. But as I drove on the roads less traveled to avoid high-speed traffic, I paused to realize what a gorgeous day it was, and what a beautiful place I was lucky enough to get to call home.

June 12th: I get to make that lunch flight. It's not in the Super Cruiser, but instead a darling 65 hp Cub that admittedly had to claw its way skyward on the way to our destination. I had good company, an absolutely stellar flying day, good landings on both ends (from the front seat!), and a really good pork chop! I got to see an airplane I've always wanted to see--a Cessna 165 Airmaster (I want one even more now!), added some time in the log book, and got a phone call to do some photos with EAA's chief photographer Jim Koepnick back down at Hartford. We returned and I cleaned 21Y so she could be a model again. Jim and I flew around for a few minutes, and then he got out to do some panning shots while I got to cropdust the grass runway for photo passes.

21Y at 68C

The Airmaster I lust mightily for

After that I chatted again with Joe and Phil, a student pilot and born-again pilot who was returning to flying after a 20-year break. They had flown all the way from Bakersfield, California in a Cessna 182 and declared Hartford the friendliest airport they had stopped at. Life is good.

June 13th: I take my black Lab Brandy to the airport. While we're playing ball, I spot five powered parachutes and an ultralight airplane heading for Hartford. I poke my head into the now-closed hangar and announce our visitors. Steve, Kandace, Jordan, and Paul congregate outside and we all watch the posse of parachutes fly low passes and perform touch-and-goes on a crystal clear, calm, warm day. The perfect stillness and low hum of the powered parachutes is memorable, and I count myself lucky to be able to experience this sort of grassroots, pure fun aviation. Life is good!

A great bunch of people I'm honored to know, simply enjoying an evening at the airport

A good day to be alive!

I'm fortunate enough to be able to experience these little moments on a regular basis, and most of you probably are too. However, there are many out there who don't get to see this side of aviation at all. It is because I know I'm so incredibly lucky that I want so much to share these moments with others. Some will get it. Some won't. But the ones that do, the ones with an insatiable appetite for the pure joy of flying, will make it all worthwhile.

Invite your neighbors and non-aviation friends to an evening out at the airport. Make a day of it. Fly to lunch, or just fly around. Cook out. Enjoy nature's big picture show and watch the sun slip away.

Host a small airport open house. Show your peers it's not all rich people and the toys they buy simply because. Show them the passionate community that aviation is, and open the doors to their involvement, even if it's not in a flying capacity.

Understand the beauty of aviation's ability to bring out the childish giddiness in all of us. And embrace it.

Life is, after all, quite good.

--Amy

Pieces of the Past

2009-06-01T22:46:00.002-05:00

I'm finally all settled in again back home. Getting back into the swing of things, and working really hard on my sport pilot CFI. I've done a bit of flying for it, getting used to the front seat of the Cub (funny, I didn't think you could get any more blind than you are in the back seat of a Cub, but it turns out the front seat is worse!), but a lot of practice tests using MSU's online Gleim test prep software.

One of the best things about being home is seeing my airport and EAA chapter friends. I made it out to my EAA Chapter 18 meeting for the first time since last June (yikes!). It was good to be back. Our presenter was Sean Elliot from EAA, who spoke about the history of B-17s and about EAA's B-17 Aluminum Overcast.

That night had a lot of history. From talking about grand old warplanes, we moved to a restaurant for some barbeque chicken wings and social time, in keeping with chapter tradition. As I sat there catching up with old friends, I was awed as I heard them talking about multiple airports I was unfamiliar with in the local area. It turns out they were closed, for the expansion of the city or convoluted political issues. Two were closed in my short life time.

Airports are unique. They are hugely capital-intensive, requiring massive investments with little to no payback (let alone a guaranteed one). Once an airport is closed, it is never reopened. It is redeveloped, sold off, or simply left to dry up due to incredible paperwork issues involved with reopening it.

The fact of the matter is, we are losing airports, and gaining none. The only new airport I've heard of in the past five years that I've been paying attention has been the new Branson Airport, targeted at commercial operations.

It's a frightening reality. While there is little we can do to halt urban sprawl, we are not required to sit idly by while our airports are being seized and made into shopping malls or municipal storage facilities.

Certain things catch my attention, and the dearth of airports is one. The United States is undeniably blessed with a wealth of airports, but that wealth is dwindling like an old family fortune. We have the unenviable tendency to ignore the problem until we're scraping the bottom of the barrel and coming up with nothing but slivers.

In other words: now is the time to start promoting good community-airport relationships. We must do all we can to make the airport indispensable to the community, in terms of either economic impact or intrinsic value.

Keep airports like Hales Corners, Rainbow, Aero Park, and Meigs Field in mind--that fate is not so far off for many airports we all know of. Reach out to the community through local schools and organizations--keep them involved and support their community service efforts as well.

It only takes one voice to ruin the airport's reputation, but it also only takes one positive voice to cement the airport's place in the community.

Just some things to ponder : )

More Chronicles of 21Y

2009-05-21T01:19:00.028-05:00

More adventures of the cute yellow Cub, in pictures! I don't want to turn this into a tale of my exploits, and detract from the goal of this blog, but I feel these pictures give you a good view into what makes me me, and also shows what's been keeping me from my regular updates.

Visiting Stanton Airfield with my roommate Robyn! Stanton Airfield is a really cool historic airport north of Mankato--check out their website at http://stantonairfield.com/

The original hangar, control tower, and classroom/office building

21Y hanging out at the gas pumps, looking pretty

Hank showed us the Sport Cubs . . . the one in front is his, which he leases to the flight school for LSA training, tailwheel endorsements, and Cub Crafters check outs

It's a sight different than 21Y's panel!

A BEAUTIFUL Pietenpol that calls Stanton home

A Super Cub and the flight school's PA-11

The flight school's Cessna 150, which has been training pilots at Stanton since its birth in 1968!

Gliders hanging in the original, main hangar

Link trainer in the main building

Glass bottle soda machine

Glider towing

Flight team fundraiser--we washed one of our faculty member's Cubs at his house. 10 people and one Cub equals a quick wash and wax!

Ryan: "No photos, please!"

Scott looking rather important

21Y's one-week visit turned into three weeks due to a combination of bad weather, and good weather for giving all those rides I had promised. Finally, on May 10th, it was time to head home. A delightfully smooth flight ensued, with great company in the form of my friend Todd and his Luscombe 8F.

Flying to Stanton one last time to get gas!

Rushford, MN: Skinniest pavement runway I've ever landed on--somehow made a sweet landing!

Cool planes!

Luscombe and the neighbors: cows! (I contemplated landing on the side of the runway in the grass if I wasn't comfortable--as you can see, it's not much of an option!)

Todd in the Luscombe

Some cool light by the Mississippi

The view from up here!

The office!

Some dork who likes those little yellow airplanes an awful lot . . . (at this time, I think I could still feel my fingers)

Sweet view. I LOOOVE this picture!

Flying down the runway at HXF

Photos of Cubs in dandelions at HXF (Jim Koepnick of EAA shot some remote photos of myself and Steve flying around as well, which was quite cool!)

Also, I got a ride in a Taylorcraft BC-12D! Neat airplane, but the wheels instead of sticks weirded me out at first.

So that's what I've been up to recently . . . I'm focusing on getting my Sport Pilot CFI in the next two weeks. I passed the Fundamentals of Instruction test last Friday with 100% and am now working on the sport pilot-specific knowledge test. I'm super excited about it, and I'm looking forward to paying it forward, and helping others pursue their dreams of flying. More on that later--just wanted to let you all know I haven't forgotten about this!

--Amy

Reasons to Smile or: The Adventures of 21Y

2009-05-05T21:00:00.001-05:00

My sincerest apologies for neglecting this blog as of late. I'm still recovering from a two-hour statistics final so my brain's somewhat on the fried side. Here's a bit of what's been going on that has kept me from updating on schedule.

WAI MSU Northern Lights Chapter's 2nd Annual Pilot Panel: This our Women in Aviation chapter's yearly outreach event. We invite a variety of aviation professionals and active promoters in to talk about their career or niche in aviation and to answer questions. I was on the planning committee for this event and contacted speakers and coordinated several other efforts including contacting the local EAA chapter (which worked out wonderfully, I may add!). Here's a picture of this year's panel (L-R: Steve Krog, Dick Keyt, Joe Coraggio. Not pictured: Dr. Nihad Daidzic).

MSU Aviation Banquet: I got roped into helping plan this year aviation department banquet. Despite all the headaches, it really wasn't so bad, and things went quite well!

To backtrack: Misfortune befell Steve's car while he was here in Mankato and he was unable to drive it back home (the fuel pump croaked). He hitched a ride home with a friend of mine and flew back on Wednesday with a new fuel pump. On account of having done this before (and being part of the reason he got stranded in the first place), I helped replace it. We went out to grab lunch before Steve set off Hartford-bound and talked about flying and jobs and careers and life in general. As we bade each other goodbye, Steve paused a moment. "They have hangar space here in Mankato?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. "The FBO rents space and the city has hangars for lease I think."

"Well, check into that . . . maybe you could commute in a Cub for a week."

My heart flipped a few times before settling. For real? Fly a Cub cross-country, low & slow, across Wisconsin to keep in Mankato with me, pretending it was mine for a week, hopping rides like a starving barnstormer? NO WAY!

I'll spare you the boring details of finding a hangar . . . but it worked! On Friday, April 17th, Adam and I set off from Hartford, WI, to Mankato, MN, via Wisconsin Dells and Dodge Center. Here are a few highlights of the trip:

En route!

The light was just sweet at Dodge Center (KTOB) . . . it demanded a picture of 21Y.

Of course, this light demanded the heroic "Girl and Her Cub" shot . . .

The next Wednesday we rendezvoused with a local Luscombe pilot who showed us around some super cool private strips!

I thought this was a cool picture of Ken's 8E . . . it was taken in 2009 but could've been taken just about anywhere in the last 50 years or so.

Giving Kim a ride!

More adventures to come . . . I'm out of hard drive space and can't offload any more pictures :(

Also more updates soon, but wanted to give you an idea of what's been happening with me recently . . . it turns out if you put a yellow airplane in front of me, my priorities get ALL switched around!

--Amy

Life Worth Living

2009-04-11T22:53:00.004-05:00

Don't bring me down.

Yesterday and today were fabulous. Indescribably perfect. An 11 on a scale of 1-10.

It started with flying the Luscombe from Mankato to Hartford, a total of 3.7 hours of flying. It was my first time left seat in the airplane, and it was some kind of unholy at first.

My beloved Cubs awaited me at Hartford, and after a brief lunch, I finally learned to hand prop! Then I hopped in the Cub with Steve and we did all sorts of fun short-field, obstacle landings. I distinctly recall fighting the urge, on the first takeoff, to yell into the mike, "I LOVE THIS!!!!" (And yes, the caps and excess punctuation are necessary.)

Today, I flew the Luscombe (with Todd sitting right seat) up to Hartford for some more Cub time. It's a short 0.4 hour trip, and Cubs were again awaiting me! I started the airplane three times, once to taxi it to the gas pump, once after fueling, and another time to go flying again.

Steve had me do three landings on the grass before we headed off to some small private strips he has permission to use. All of our previous day's short-field practice now came into action! We flew low, tight patterns, dragged the airplane in over trees and slipped right down to the runway. Cool stuff! At another strip, we flew swooping finals to avoid flying over houses and skidded into lining up with the runway. For those of you who haven't done it, it's absolutely wild!! What a ton of fun! We also did turning takeoffs (now those are a hoot!) and early turnouts to dodge a neighbor who didn't want his house overflown. That strip was a blast, especially with a hill and huge trees at one end, and a barn and trees at the other. Next up was a short, downsloping strip that demanded a slow touchdown (or else you'd float halfway down the runway and run out of real estate). There are some things you can only do in a Cub, and that's certainly one of them!

After some pizza and a break, I asked Steve to do some pavement work. Off we went again! 6 landings later he had seen enough and suggested I drop him off back at the hangar so I could head out on my own.

Excitement ensued . . . then apprehension when I had trouble with the left brake (it's quite soft, and one can't always stop by making a right turn) . . . then exhilaration as I grabbed the tiger by the tail and soared off into the sky.

For the record: Steve's Cub has a C-85 with the O-200 crank, so it makes about 103 hp . . . in an airplane that originally flew with 40. With 110 lbs of me and 100 hp, that Cub gets going! I barely had the throttle forward and the tail up before we popped off the ground. Climbing at 60 put me at 500 feet before reaching the end of the 3000 ft paved runway . . . NICE! The first takeoff went kind of like this . . . Wait for the Warrior flying the 747 pattern, check downwind, base, and final . . . take the runway, power forward, and I exclaimed "WOO-HOO-HOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" as we nearly roared heavenward (I realize that "Cub" and "roared" do not go together, but it sure felt like it!). I laughed out loud gleefully at the controls of my favorite airplane, and favorite Cub. This is too good to be true!

Two landings later, I decided I'd go have some fun . . . I broke off to the north and let 186 climb like a homesick angel. (Steve later told me he briefly thought he was witnessing Cub theft.) At 3000 feet and north of the field, it was spin time! YEEHA!!! With no one else but the Cub listening, I was free to exclaim all those emotions I silenced for the benefit of others. I LOVE THIS AIRPLANE! I laughed through 3 turns, face nearly split in half by a smile. Another spin, a lazy 8 or two, and some delightful steep turns followed before I reluctantly dragged myself back to the airport. My half hour of heaven was coming to an end, and I didn't want to keep Steve waiting. But first, I made another 4 landings on the pavement . . . sweet! The best part was, I felt in control . . . not overconfident, but respectful. But also not fearful, which was a wonderful, wonderful thing.

It was hard to taxi back to the hangar . . . I didn't want to get out and let the magic end. Please . . . one more landing. One more spin. One more steep turn. One more enchanting view of the earth. Please don't let it end . . .

Unfortunately, responsibility called and I brought the airplane back--but I did hug it (Cub hug) before leaving the hangar. She sure is some kind of wonderful.

I once told someone before I left Mankato that if I had the chance to solo the Cub again, I'd be so happy I could just cry. And I am. I can't explain it. But that airplane just brings out every last bit of aviation passion in me and puts it under a magnifying glass. Things are simple again. All I need is that stick and throttle, and life is worth living. Everything feels right. Good. Like slipping an old sweatshirt on. Familiar and welcoming. Like hugging an old friend and realizing you had never really been apart, because you're destined to be together.

Things click. Things make sense. Important things become more clear, and irrelevant things lose their importance. The world is beautiful, and so is life. That one brief moment, a snapshot in time, warms your heart and feeds your soul.

I was trying to explain just how awesome my day was to someone . . . and I realized that you cannot possibly convey that through emotionless text. I tried, and then told him we'd go Cub flying someday and I really hoped he'd be one of the ones who "got it."

It's moments like these when I realize why I want this blog to help others become involved. I'm overflowing with a passion and love for flying, and it would be criminal not to share it. I want others to know, and to feel, the way I do when the sheer joy of flight causes me to laugh gleefully.

I recognize this isn't a very helpful entry. But I was prompted to write it nonetheless, after a fabulous two days of Cub flying . . . hopefully Sunday will bring more!

--Amy

Hand-in-Hand

2009-03-30T11:00:00.004-05:00

Every human being has a simple, undeniable desire to make their mark on the world, and to be remembered for something they did, known for their accomplishments. I can't claim to be any different, as I truly hope this blog effort is successful in inspiring others both to fly and to reach out and help others take flight. Yet, it is this individual spirit that is hurting aviation outreach so much--we're all so caught up making sure someone remembers us that we don't remember the true goal.

Recognizing this, and knowing that no one ever volunteers, I decided to try my own little outreach in partnership with my Women in Aviation chapter's annual outreach. Each year the MSU Northern Lights Chapter puts on a pilot panel where a variety of people of differing ages and experience levels are invited to attend presentations by several aviation professionals, and then ask questions following the presentations. Having rambled on here about the lack of exposure for local aviation organizations, I decided it was time for me to put my money where my mouth was (figuratively only, though--I'm in college, I don't have any money!) and work on getting a local EAA chapter to come to the pilot panel.

It's a lot harder than I expected. Even the chapter president acknowledged "it'd be nothing but good for us" but seemed less than enthusiastic about the opportunity to not only promote his chapter but sport aviation in general.

I'm not bad-mouthing this chapter in the least, just observing a surprising attitude. In fairness, I have not made it to a single one of their meeting due to schedule conflicts (skiplane fly-ins, spring break), so I understand that they may not be entirely thrilled about doing something for an organization they have never really got a chance to get to know. This particular EAA chapter is very good at offering some excellent scholarships each year, so I assumed they were active as an outreach organization. It may simply be they've never been approached for such an event.

With that in mind, I think this sort of partnership needs to be happening on a much greater scale. Each organization can have very different goals--Women in Aviation to encourage the involvement of women in aviation (and more so, professional aviation), EAA to support the development and preservation of sport aviation--but should partner on the vital issue of youth involvement. After all, our Women in Aviation chapter does not offer scholarships (we're a no-dues university chapter), but the EAA chapter does. Our Women in Aviation chapter does not have the insurance to sponsor flying events or Young Eagles, but the EAA chapter does. Our Women in Aviation chapter, being a university chapter, is young, with member ages ranging from 19 to 22 . . . the EAA chapter's average age is higher than that.

These differences are not hindrances to partnership, necessarily. They can make a unified effort more challenging, but also much better. A young person at this week's pilot panel can see both other young people involved in aviation and also experienced mentors who can help them along whichever path of involvement they may be interested in. Maybe a youth will talk to one of our student members and want to go flying for the first time in a small airplane--something the EAA chapter can help out with.

In the end, we all have the same goal--to ensure that there is a future for general aviation and the people interested in it. However, no organization is perfectly suited to the challenge of recruiting new enthusiasts. With a little bit of cooperation, we can present many of the myriad facets of this industry.

In short, while it may be a daunting task with which no one's familiar, it only takes one person to make the first call. Find another organization near you--it could be another chapter of the same organization or an entirely different organization--and work with each other on an event. It could be a Young Eagles rally, for instance--if the other chapter is inexperienced in Young Eagles rallies, offer to show them how you run yours, and involve the other chapter members in ground support. Talk with each other at the end of the event to learn what you both thought of the effort, including areas to improve. Or, partner with an organization like a Women in Aviation chapter that does not do flying events and let them run ground operations and bring activities for the kids.

There's nothing but good things to be gained from partnership efforts if they are approached respectfully. Each organization can maintain its individual identity, but it's time for more clubs and organizations to work with others in a cooperative, hand-in-hand effort.

--Amy

Ideas

2009-03-27T02:11:00.003-05:00

I saw this featured recently in a Sport Aviation article, and thought it was an excellent idea for local organizations to use with younger children. It looks like fun! If I lost about 8 lbs I could even use it . . . .

It's called the Aqua Jet-X, and plans are available on Aircraft Spruce. It would really be a fabulous thing to use in concert with school presentations and Young Eagles days, with younger kids in mind. The plans and the materials are an investment--if you can make one kid look skyward with a twinkle in his eye, it's all been worth it.

http://aquaplane.net/

--Amy

P.S. If anyone near me makes one . . . first off, I'll help, but with the caveat that I get to play in it once!

Moments

2009-03-18T16:11:00.004-05:00

Sometimes, just when we think we know what's going on, we get a wake up call. Occasionally it's a gentle nudge, sometimes it's a figurative swift kick in the derriere.

Other days it's a simple awakening we never expected. Wednesday was one of those days.

I headed outside in shorts and a t-shirt for a brief jog before attending to other concerns. It was still a little cool out, 40 degrees, but I decided I'd be ok.

Stepping outside, a brisk wind reminded me that this was still Minnesota, and it was still technically winter. It also heralded life and the promise of a new day. With one step I began my short journey. Despite the wind, I felt my skin warming, a product of the bright shining sun and my own body's efforts. With each subsequent step I felt more and more alive, more and more in control of my own destiny and joy in life. As I ran, I let go of the stress and self-hatred of my daily life . . . I once again loved my life and my body for what they are and what they could be. I was moving and going somewhere entirely on my own, of my own doing, with no one else's intervention.

I do this for myself. It is my time to reconnect with myself. It's not quite cruising in the Cub at water-tower-reading height, but it is free.

This self-time is my pondering time, when things clarify themselves and I often redefine things in my life.

I gazed up at the perfect blue sky. I belong to the sky, I said to myself.

I thought myself quite eloquent for a few moments. Then, it dawned upon me the bare truth of that statement. My soul is not owned by this dreary earth--it was born to soar.

One foot forward. I considered my involvement in aviation, reviewing it frame-by-frame. Next foot forward. I remembered all of my wonderful aviation friends and secondary family. Other foot forward. I wondered where I would be without my involvement in aviation.

Stop.

Where would I be? I didn't want to think about it.

I once read a book in which the main character, a pilot, stated he never wanted aviation to define who he was. I'm definitely on the other side of the fence. Yes, I do other things that help make me who I am, but I also know that I wouldn't be who I am and who I want to be without flying.

Ok. Call me a hopeless romantic. It's true.

It was an eye-opening "aha!" moment . . . I have so much to be grateful for, both in terms of successes I'm proud of and failures that I learned from. Aviation has taught me perseverance . . . goal-setting . . . passion . . . and true, devastating heartbreak. But no matter what, I would not be where I am, or who I am, without some crazy airport individuals and that adorable little Cub.

It was one of those moments where I realized how inexplicably lucky I am, and how much I owe the aviation community.

But I know I can never pay back the aviation community. Their goodwill, encouragement, and bummed rides are donations to the future of aviation . . . given in kind with the understanding that I will do all I can to pay it forward. (I guess they really did a good job guilting me, huh?)

It's why I believe so much in promoting grassroots aviation, and why I believe so strongly in a grassroots movement. While I read magazines about learning to fly, nothing could replace the first time I was introduced as the "ramp rat" (thanks Norm). I was in! I was validated! Nothing could replace the first time an airport member offered to take me flying . . . and let me fly his airplane. No article could ever top that.

So many kids go through life without those moments. Again, call me a hopeless romantic, but I think I have a higher calling, and not just literally. It may turn out that aviation is never a job for me--I don't know what the future holds, but I know I'm excited about it. I'm excited because I have in mind so many things I want to do--things that are farther-reaching and bigger than I could ever be, things that will hopefully bring new, passionate souls to recognize their calling to the sky.

But I can't do it alone. Will you help me reach out to others? Will you give me new ideas?

I know I'm cheesy, ok? But I am from Wisconsin, so it must be genetic. Cheesiness aside, I really do believe all of this corny stuff I write. I really do. Talk to me some time in person and you'll see.

And please help me to get others involved--I'd really appreciate any and all feedback.

P.S. I have added some photos to my Flickr gallery, found at www.flickr.com/photos/airflophoto

--Amy

Bright Future

The "Other" Pilot

2009-03-16T23:38:00.004-05:00

Chatting about the emergence of the Light Sport Aircraft/Sport Pilot rule the other day got me to pondering (which is always dangerous). We were talking about what should be done--should flight schools invest in LSAs to spark interest, or should they wait until eager would-be students show some interest?

There are, of course, pros and cons to both ways, and a delicate balance of the two is probably most ideal but least likely. Such balancing acts are difficult to manage.

It occurs to me that most of the problems are rooted in the marketing of sport pilot. It is the "other" pilot license, less-than and, subsequently, not enough. The private pilot's license is still seen as the "base model," if you will, of flying licenses. After the private license is introduced, the sport pilot license may be introduced briefly as the "other" option, with the insinuation that it requires less skill and is not as desirable.

I still believe that the LSA/SP rule has a good potential to help out aviation and flourish--after all, look at the new aircraft being produced for the LSA market. It's more innovation than we've seen in other GA aircraft sectors since decades ago, and I think it's wonderful to see the new designs emerging. However, I think we have yet to see flight schools' interest reach the same levels as that of LSA companies.

Again, I think everything relates to perception. There is the idea that LSAs are fragile creations only a small step up from a kite when many are light-years ahead of the tired flight school steeds. There is an awful lot of possibilities out there for LSA--but first, we need to recognize that a sport pilot is no less skilled than a private pilot. The basics of flying do not change, from a Cub to a Savage Cruiser to a Cherokee to a 777. In fact, the sport pilot should be commended for his realistic approach--how many private pilots could fulfill all of their flying desires with a sport pilot license?

To change this perception, education must continue. Aviation organizations need to embrace LSA/SP and work to promote it, educating both the public and flight training providers. An educated flying community is a powerful and successful community.

I hope to see LSA/SP grow a lot in the next few years--I truly think it is a great opportunity to get more people involved, young and old.

--Amy

Fee'd to Death

2009-03-13T23:03:00.014-05:00

Yesterday was a long day . . . after waking up around 7, I headed out to the airport to chase around the state of Wisconsin and make a new entry in my logbook. We were finally wheels-up at 11:40 after two hours of debating where explore. We elected to fly from Capitol to Platteville to Prairie du Chien to Baraboo to Sheboygan and back, stopping at each airport to meet the people that made it tick.

Platteville was up first. I anticipated it would be the least active but, as it turned out, I had to squeak myself in between a few others shooting touch-and-goes. A Cessna 170 waited outside the FBO for its pilot to return from town. The office and hangar were lit only by the sunlight streaming through the windows, the radio calls being made by students the only indication of life.

Within a few minutes, as I massaged the headset imprints out of my scalp, the owner, Jim Hughes, came in. What a friendly guy! He was definitely a good face for the airport, being very outgoing.

The "M" we came to see (it's not often in Wisconsin you see "Letter M" on the sectional)

The Hughes Aviation office and hangar (the "M" is in the picture on the sign)

Next up was Prairie du Chien, an airport on the very western edge of the state. Being right next door to the Mississippi, the airport is surrounded by bluffs which can lead to some funky winds. It was another pleasant experience, with some conversation shared around the airport table. I even found that the manager's grandson was looking at attending MSU.

En route! (I fly the Luscombe from the right, as Todd, its owner, is more comfortable in the left. Besides, flying from the right means the throttle is on the left . . . like it should be!)

It also turns out that someone in Prairie du Chien must have been jealous of the Platteville "M" . . . we found this as we flew north along the river before turning east.

Following Prairie du Chien was a stop at Baraboo-Wisconsin Dells. We had the misfortune to follow a Citation in and were subsequently forgotten in the shuffle, waiting nearly 30 minutes for our measly 5 gallons of gas.

I still think we had the coolest one!

Sheboygan was the next stop. My complaining stomach demanded appeasement, so we stopped at arguably one of the tastiest airport restaurants around. As the sun began to set, we waddled back to the airplane, stuffed to the brim, for the last leg home. The air had finally smoothed out, but oddly enough, there seemed to be more wind. I think I saw the GPS indicate 70 knots only once.

All told, the trip added 5.1 hours of PIC cross-country time to my logbook, along with a new pen and a free umbrella (which I proceeded to open indoors for show and tell, much to my mother's chagrin). It also brought about a new appreciation for the airport system we have here in the United States.

Having recently read an account of all the hoops one must jump through in Spain to go flying (including notifying them 24 hours in advance of your desire to fly--no impromptu hops allowed!), I had a new amount of gratefulness for the open system I'm lucky enough to have access to. We hadn't even decided where to go until the morning we left. I never had to worry about completing pages of paperwork just to tool around for the day. I never had to count up the many user fees for landing, parking, fueling, using the restrooms, or breathing. No one questioned our intent to puddlejump cross-country or to fly for the sake of flying.

I realize that pilots and enthusiasts in other countries face far more challenges that we here in the US do. For instance, a woman I met at the Women in Aviation conference, Jinko, commutes from Japan to the US for her flight training because of the prohibitive obstacles established by the Japanese government.

However.

I do not think that recognizing the hindrances in other nations means that we can sit back and accept stifling legislation designed to box aviation into a "sensible" territory here in the US. I am not saying that general aviation pilots like myself should leave all the expenses of the airport and airway system to the commercial operators; I myself am in favor of the higher fuel tax option. I know that perhaps I'll end up paying for someone else's instrument approaches, but they'll probably end up paying to mow my grass runway anyhow. Semantics. The fact of the matter is, if I were faced with numerous surcharges, I'd be far less apt to go flying. Trying to itemize flying expenses into categories such as weather briefings (VFR or IFR? IFR means $), flight plans, and flight service tends to make us all stop, think, and try to make sense of what we're spending our money on.

We all know we're stuffing dollar bills into fuel tanks and that it doesn't make much sense.

If I had to think about the dollars I paid for a weather briefing (could've bought some fresh fruit with that) or the change I shook out of my purse for flight following (could've been a pricy drink at the coffee shop I like), I might just shake my head in disbelief and label this flying thing pure nonsense. It probably is, of course, but one must embrace nonsense in their daily life or else, I'm convinced, they'll simply explode. Making sense out of every little happening in life is not only impossible, it'll suck the fun right out of life!

Sure, I'm selfish and don't want to have to curtail my flying activities (ie, multiengine rating) any more than I already have (on indefinite hold). I can admit that. But, I also feel an obligation to protect the freedom flight affords by working to keep prohibitive obstacles locked up in some long-lost government file.

The fences are bad enough.

I can't say that I would've had as much fun scooting around the state had I needed to sit down and tally my user fees for my seven landings and two go-arounds. Having to think so much about something that is supposed to be just plain fun defeats the purpose of sport aviation.

Keeping this in mind, consider the aspiring pilot. Should he or she really need to keep track of how many touch-and-goes they've performed to make sure they don't overdraw their bank account? Are we to sacrifice safety and enjoyment because we can no longer justify our own passions to ourselves?

Like I said, I'm not saying the commercial operators should be made to foot part of the bill that is not theirs. I'm simply stating that we should do all we can to make sure aviation is not so imposing, with a plethora of surcharges and bill add-ons.

Let's face it. Aviation will never be cheap.

But it can be justifiable . . . assuming we don't scare others or ourselves off with all those little bills that suddenly add up to a mortgage payment. Let's not fee ourselves into obsolescence.

Just think about it.

--Amy

Noses Pressed Against Windows

2009-03-07T23:14:00.012-06:00

I headed down to Atlanta, Georgia, for the Women in Aviation, International conference Wednesday, February 25th. Having elected to fly non-rev (again, I have good friends : ) ), I knew I was taking a chance on a flight filling up at the last minute. Everything looked to be in order, so I wasn't worried and began to look forward to the 65-degree weather.

Unfortunately, what makes non-revving so cheap is the fact that it is space-available--and space rapidly and unexpectedly became unavailable. I glumly stared out at the ramp and the snow, trying to figure out which flight to try to hop on next. But, miracles do happen, and despite the fact that the flight was oversold by a seat or two, a spot opened up for me at the last minute.

Having woken up around 4 am, I was exhausted and simply relieved to be on an airplane. Nap time seemed to be in order, until I noticed the little girl across the aisle. Seated next to her mother, she strained against her seat belt to peek over the bottom of the window sill. As the power came forward on the runway, her face lit up and she pressed her nose against the window. She turned excitedly to her mom and pointed, squirming closer to see more.

From the other side of the airplane, I smiled. This girl didn't think flight was routine--it was exotic, exciting, and worthy of wriggling out of her seatbelt for. While everyone else had already pulled out a newspaper or book, she stood at the window, fascinated, wanting more. It was refreshing and reassuring to see a young person, and a girl, no less, so excited about flying.

I wondered if the flight had made an impact upon her. Was it just another experience to check off on some life list, or did she some day want to see what it was like to be at the controls herself? I wanted to write down my information and tell her mom to give me a call so someday she could go flying, so she could feel what flying was like on a much more intimate level.

I didn't. I should have, but I didn't. I worried approaching them would appear odd.

Though I still wish I had talked to the girl and her mother, I walked away with a smile on my face, refreshed by the sight of such enthusiasm.

Maybe this isn't the most eloquent or striking entry, but the experience came at a key time. As the pressures of a full class schedule mounted and the distance between my log book entries increased, I tended to push the simple joys out of my consciousness and focus on the tasks that needed immediate attention. I find it necessary to take a step back and find joy in the little things in life--squinting as I walk to class because it means the sun is out, yawning because it means I stayed up late talking to friends instead of going to bed early, feeling a small tug at my heart when I hear someone else getting to fly because it means I have had the chance to do so myself.

I'm indescribably grateful that I have had the chance to fly and see the world differently, certainly, but sometimes I get caught up in life and commercial flight simply becomes a necessary step in getting to a new destination. My nose was not pressed up against that window. I had pulled out my book and was beginning to catch up on my to-do list.

It took an excited little girl whose name I will never know to remind me of the simple, pure wonder of flight. I think it's something that we become increasingly susceptible to over time--with enough hours, flying is something routine and no longer exotic. If we're lucky, we get to see someone like that little girl to remind us of the joy of flying. I hope that you have not forgotten the primal elation that watching the runway numbers slide gracefully under you evokes. I hope you remember those brilliant days when not even clouds dared to step in your way. I hope you never forget the thrill of that first solo--a thrill far too few get to experience.

I hope you remember those unadulterated, truthful reasons why you fly, whether they make sense or not--and I hope you will remember to speak up and share them with others so they can see what we see.

Apologies

2009-03-05T00:56:00.002-06:00

Sorry, to those of you who actually make it a point to check this little blog on occasion. It has been crazy busy here and I'm still catching up!

Monday afternoon I finally returned from the Women in Aviation conference after 6 days away from home-away-from-home here at the dorms. Needless to say, with a project, test, and two quizzes ahead of me, I'm still unburying myself from a pile of things that need attending to. This includes events like our Women in Aviation pilot panel and MSU Aviation Department Banquet, both prone to last-minute emergencies. Dandy!

I haven't forgotten about this project or shoved it aside . . . in fact I handed out a card with the blog information on it to just about anyone at the conference who made the mistake of saying hello or making eye contact. I do have an update coming soon, but I'm going to post this right away before the blog gets neglected any further.

Stay tuned.

--Amy

Soul-Searching

2009-02-20T19:24:00.003-06:00

I could certainly go on about my own involvement in aviation in this post, and about trying to figure out where it fits in my life (then again, it may never "fit" in the traditional sense of the word). But, you already get enough of that, so I'll save it for another day when I'm feeling inspired.

Today, actually, I stopped to think a lot about this project and where it's headed versus where I'd like it to go. So, I've decided to reveal the grand master plan. Initially I thought I would just let this blog build its own momentum, but I think that for people to get excited about something, it must become tangible to them. With that in mind, I'm going to try to make my project (which is really our project) tangible to those of you kind enough to spend a few minutes on my ramblings.

The tagline for A Flying Story is "A dialogue about youth involvement in aviation," mainly because I couldn't think of a better way to sum it up in a line. While it is mostly focused on youth, it is also aimed at increasing all involvement in aviation through the support and cultivation of that passion.

The idea is to motivate individuals (like you!) and local organizations (EAA/VAA/IAC/WOA/AAA chapters, clubs) to become more active in recruiting youth by hopefully helping you see new ways to approach youth. I want to get more of those informational articles up soon, but I feel that that's really a small part of it. Anyone can read a how-to article and follow the steps. What I really want to see is passion. I know it's there! Sometimes, though, it just doesn't translate well to youth because aviation is something foreign to them--and I think that passion is foreign to them as well. In my high school, I was often thought of as "weird" because I was so interested in aviation, and my peers seemed to go to great lengths to make sure they were only enthusiastic about approved topics.

I'd love to get the support of aviation organizations (EAA/AAA/AOPA/etc) in spreading this message and reforming the methods we use to get new people involved in aviation. To make it truly tangible, I want to fly across the United States and help local organizations get involved in their communities. I feel that it would be a wonderful way for such a project to come to fruition, as well as a symbol of the fact that large international organizations work for their chapters and members.

Additionally, I'd like to film the whole thing and turn it into a two-part DVD about the passion of flying/why we fly and how to become more active in the community.

Hopefully, those of you reading this will pass it along to others who feel the same way. Chapters and local organizations have my permission to print these little ramblings of mine with credit to me (Amy Gesch). That's all I ask--but I hope you'll send me feedback and let me know where you're from and where it's getting published.

But maybe that's just crazy to think all of that could happen. Yet, I know I won't be able to forgive myself in the future if I don't try. So, here goes nothing . . . and everything.

--Amy

Running in the Snow

2009-02-20T18:50:00.005-06:00

I finally did it! After over a year's hiatus from running, I finally hauled myself outside to go run around the block. I knew I needed to; I'm not nearly as fit as I used to be, and sitting around lamenting that fact wasn't going to fix a thing. Someone came into my room and announced it was snowing. Sure enough, I looked outside and saw the white stuff accumulating. Ugh.

I still went. I knew if I used the snow as a reason not to go, I'd only be lying to myself. I used to run in the rain, sleet, snow, and subzero temperatures. I knew it could be done safely. As such, I knew if I didn't go, it wouldn't be because of inclement weather. It would be because I was too lazy.

With that in mind, I headed out. iPod on shuffle and decked out for the weather, I couldn't help but smile. It seemed pretty stupid, going out to run when just enough snow had accumulated to make things slippery. It seemed pretty stupid, heading outside to get pelted with snow that got in my eyes and made my makeup run. It seemed pretty stupid, braving the sidewalks when a brand-new, indoor rec center resided just across campus.

But it was wonderful. In all of its senselessness, it was great. I was outside, snow flying into my face, wind making me squint, and I felt alive! It reminded me a lot of flying. How many runners are out there? Millions, and not all of them run because that's how they keep those winter pounds off. People love running, bicycling, and kayaking, and some days I'd wager that's crazier than flying.

The streets I ran along are familiar to me, but I saw them differently today. Who lived in those apartments? What were they like? Who was that guy in the orange Mustang that clearly couldn't drive in the snow? Where was he from? Whose genius idea was it to make sidewalk paint so slippery? And who put those deathly metal plates on the sidewalk ramps?

I had time to notice details instead of blazing by in my car, fumbling with the radio and reading directions. It's sort of like the difference between hearing and listening. There's observing and seeing, really seeing. I was alone, left to see the world around me and revel at the wonder in the ordinary, yet I was never alone. On my final leg back to the dorm, I crossed paths with two other runners headed the opposite direction. We shared a brief knowing smile as we passed.

I wasn't alone. I was in the company of kindred spirits.

Just like I'm never alone flying, even if I'm up solo. I'm surrounded by thousands of others for whom the sky was home, past, present, and future. I can imagine the exotic nature of flying back when the Cub I'm flying was new, the excitement surrounding private aviation and the thrill of taking flight for the first time after never knowing it was possible for you. I know fellow students and their passion for flying. I've seen them watching each airplane take off and land, leaving a small piece of themselves at the airport even when they're not physically present. I see the children and young adults looking skyward as an airplane passes overhead. I see their eyes light up and their faces become animated as they think to themselves, "Someday, someday . . ."

I love that.

I love knowing I can be alone, and yet also have the support of an entire global community. There's not really a suitable word for that level of cool. It's because of this that I'm trying, whether successfully or not, to help that community become more effective in welcoming in new members.

Boots on the Ground

2009-02-16T23:24:00.007-06:00

It turns out to write about aviation, you should have aviation experiences. Quite frankly, I've had a recent dearth of said experiences and am drawing on new things to attempt to entertain the flying world at large.

Saturday, as part of my airport management class, I went on a tour of the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport (yes, I toured an airport on Valentine's Day, but that was not my doing). It really is an amazing place, but it felt devoid of emotion, or at least the grassroots sort of emotion that I'm partial to. It is not there for recreation, but instead for business, and it is a city in its own right, with a fire department, an army of snow removers, and a "Main Street" full of restaurants and stores in the terminal.

I thought of the snow removal and heavy equipment teams. They took pride in their job but they didn't do it because they loved aviation. Their passions and motivations lay elsewhere, perhaps in the inner workings of heavy machinery.

I thought of the firefighters on staff. They enjoyed their jobs, believed in what they were doing, but they did not do it out of love for flying.

I'm not trying to discount the lifestyles, passions, and dreams of the non-flying workers that make the airport operational. They are certainly necessary and integral to the airport's success.

Ah, success. As defined by the Metropolitan Airports Commission (MAC), "success" means a satisfactory cash flow. While the MAC is not a profit-earning organization, they do things very thoughtfully, with careful attention to financial outlay and return. Having laid the groundwork for hangars at a nearby GA airport, they have not moved to allow building yet, because they do not yet think it is fiscally responsible, despite numerous requests from aviators to allow building. In short, the MAC, while running some very nice airports, does nothing simply for the good of general aviation. In fact, some might say that they actually hinder it, with their dutiful adherence to stringent security regulations and corporation-style management.

I'm not trying to undermine the MAC's management of the metropolitan airports under its control. From what I've seen, they do an excellent job of maintaining clean and modern airports. However, they do not promote the future of aviation very well on a grassroots level.

But that's because that's not really their job, and they're not in a position to be very good at such a task. MAC makes the airport structure, you make the airport community. MAC's goals need to make sense, yours don't.

You, as an aviation enthusiast, are the "boots on the ground." You are the one that can make an individual difference. While the involvement of large aviation organizations is wonderful and laudable, they cannot influence people like a personal connection or mentor.

Remember, the only fences around airports are the ones which contain us and keep us from sharing our love of flying with others. Even a fenced airport can have an active aviation outreach effort with the dedication and involvement of airport community members. I suppose I just don't want a simple chain-link fence to be the reason someone doesn't get involved in aviation. I know that we, as a global aviation community, have many challenges facing us, but I also know that just one person can make a difference in the life of another.

Don't forget--life doesn't have to make sense. That's why we have hobbies : )

--Amy

The Other Side

2009-02-11T00:42:00.005-06:00

Sorry about the delay between posts . . . it was a busy weekend! 5.0 hours of cross-country PIC time (I do have great friends), a new haircut, and some time with my pooch, plus a nightmarish experience trying to get back here. But, needless to say, I'm back in Mankato, safe, sound, and snug.

On to other things.

Steve won't be getting a Christmas present this year. He made me fly to Oshkosh so I could get some tower work in. I admit, it was good for me, and certainly not busy, but I'm inexperienced and chicken nonetheless. So boo on Steve. But thanks to Todd who lets me fly his Luscombe and doesn't complain when I bounce it ; )

As we circuited the dark, lonely pattern time after time, I started to wonder about the man behind the instructions to make left traffic and the clearances to land. What was he like? Did he like his job? Was he having a bad day? He hadn't responded when I thanked him and told him to have a nice day, despite the fact that we were the only airplane under his control. Moreover, I wonder if he could tell how many times I bounced on several approaches . . .

Landing grades aside, my curiosity led to more pondering on the flight back home. There are plenty of people we interact with on a daily basis, perhaps even quite regularly, but do we really know them?

I thought of the FBO employee at Oshkosh who let us in to use the restrooms even though it was after hours and we weren't buying fuel. Why did he choose to work there? What were his aviation goals, if any? (Did he watch my bouncy landings??)

What about the kid that begs his parents to stop by the airport, to pull over, slow down when there is an airplane taking off? Will he ever achieve his dream of flight?

What about the other aviation students I attend class with? What do they want out of this program and this industry?

I often wonder about the state of people's lives. How did they get here, wherever "here" may be? Are they happy? Is this their dream, or just a way to pay the rent? What were they like in their younger days? What impression did they form of me in our brief encounters?

The last question is likely the most important. What effect have I had on the lives of those around me? When I say "Have a nice day," I truly mean it, but do others sense that? Does it maybe, just maybe, make them smile a bit or feel more positive? Have I made a positive imprint on some one else's life?

All this wondering brings me back to the kid at the airport fence. I want to know what will become of him, if his passion for aviation will endure and blossom or if it will wilt in the forbidding environment of today. I want to know if he will forget his dreams or push them aside without encouragement or simply because it is easier. And I want to know how I can help him aim for the stars and fly.

I guess what I'm saying is that what drives me to keep spewing out my thoughts here is the continual pursuit of ways to help others--ways to "pay it forward." I recall an instance here at school where someone said "I wish I knew all the people you knew," and "I don't know the kind of people you know." I know I was incredibly lucky to meet the people I did that helped me out so much while I was learning to fly and as I work to continue my aviation education (and outreach, hopefully). I know that it is through no skill or qualification of my own that these people stepped forward to help me. They simply extended a helping hand to someone who showed a little interest, ensuring that I wouldn't be one who lost hope or gave up on that dream.

For that reason, I want to help others. I'm more than willing to help those who show an interest, and I have a standing offer with the student who wished he knew who I knew that I'll introduce him to everyone I know or get him in touch with them. I also have standing offers that I'll gladly take anyone Cub flying who hasn't been before, even if it means I have to beg and scrap (but not steal) to do it, because I want so much for others to feel the passion that I do for the wide world of aviation. While I am eternally grateful for the help that I received, I know that I can never truly pay back the gifts that my supporters gave me. The only way to do them justice is to share what they have given me.

Remember when you were on "the other side." Remember those who mentored you and helped you along the way.

And now, live in the present. Pay it forward. Be a mentor to the aviators of tomorrow--before the faces on the other side of the fence disappear.

How will you be remembered?

P.S. P.S.

2009-02-06T13:18:00.002-06:00

I could really use some feedback from those of you who are reading this! Some general things I'm wondering about are the following:

~What do you think of the content?
~Of the writing quality?
~How interesting is blog to you?
~What other ways do you recommend for reaching out to youth and involving them in aviation?

You can click the "Comments" link after each post, or email them to me at aflyingstory AT gmail.com

Thanks! : )

Do 1 Thing

2009-02-06T11:54:00.020-06:00

.

Along my drive home from school last night (another one of these wacky trips for a skiplane fly-in, but with a hair cut, too!) I stopped at a truck stop in Tomah, Wisconsin. I gathered my trash and grabbed my purse to head inside, and as I walked inside a man asked me if perhaps I could spare a few dollars to help him and his sister get to Minnesota. The only cash I carry is a single dollar that, for a long time, was the only money I had, and I venture to say it has sentimental value now. I explained that I was a college student and really didn't have any money on my person. He was understanding and shrugged it off, continuing to wait outside in the dark and cold.

I pondered these events while I was inside the building. When I had pulled up to the truck stop, I paused my iPod, ended my phone call on my Bluetooth headset, and put my brand-new phone into my purse. To say that I don't have anything of material value is certainly a lie. Granted, the iPod was a gift, as was the Bluetooth headset, and my mom had bought the new phone when she signed a new contract. Yet, I couldn't shake the image of the man waiting patiently for a good Samaritan, his sister sitting in the cold car. I was reminded of a social project entitled "Do 1 Thing." Its purpose is to raise awareness about homelessness through photos taken by participating photographers.

"Do 1 Thing" stuck with me. For all I knew, the man and his sister were collecting cash when in reality they had more than they let on. But again, maybe they were driving to Minnesota for a new chance at life, perhaps their only chance. I'll never know. But it struck me that too often we question people's motives to death. I decided that if he was still outside when I checked out, I would head back in and pull some money out for him, even if it was only $10 or so.

He wasn't there when I walked out.

I looked around for the car, hoping they had managed to move on, wondering if they had given up.

I never saw the car again.

Who knows where they ended up--I can only hope it was in a better place and situation than they were leaving.

The experience certainly got me to think for quite a while. I was initially skeptical of the man and his motives, but why? Why must we be so skeptical, instead of generous enough to offer a helping hand? Why are we no longer capable of basic trust? Why do we refuse to extend a helping hand without documentation of one's situation and motivation?

I pondered as I wheeled on towards my warm home with its wireless internet and cable TV, evaluating myself. You see, people have taken chances on me. I have been lucky enough to be the recipient of several scholarships, given to me with the hopes that I would do something worthwhile with the opportunities afforded by the money. The donors had no way to know what I could turn out to be, only a faith that it would be something worthy of their gift. Yet, in today's society, we are taught to be suspicious and untrusting, and I saw that reality to be ingrained in my own personality.

And I resented it last night.

That why I'd like to invite the members of the aviation community to take note. You never know what your gift of flight can do, or where it may lead. But, if you never take the chance to offer that gift up, you're guaranteed to never see the payoff.

There are many youths out there to whom aviation and flight is nothing but a faraway fairytale thought. To those of us lucky enough to experience it, it is a beautiful reality that has likely shaped our personality in one way or another. Give them a chance to see what we see, and then put it within their reach. Extend your offers to those who otherwise never would have dreamed of flight, never could have dreamed of flight, and take a chance or two.

Do 1 thing: Give wings. Give fascination. Give passion. Give dreams.

You may just regret it forever if you don't.

--Amy

Dreams and Goals

2009-02-04T22:45:00.008-06:00

Well first of all, what's the difference between a goal and a dream? I think my goals and dreams tend to blend together. If I work to make a dream real, I think that turns it into a goal, something attainable.

So here's a brief list of aviation-related things I want to do before I kick the bucket (which is hopefully a ways off still):

~Fly a DC-3, turbine or not (or both, I'll do it twice!)
~Spend a summer, at least, flying in Alaska (maybe instructing)
~Fly a J-2
~Fly a J-5
~Take the members of my family Cubbing
~Take a loooooong cross-country, like literally across the country, in a Cub
~Learn all those cool tailwheel tricks, like taxiing with the tail up, and lifting the tail at a standstill before taking off
~Get my seaplane rating in a J-3
~Fly a Cub on skis
~Fly a Savage Cruiser (and if I can set terms, that adorable red-and-white one)
~Fly a Howard DGA-15
~And a Staggerwing
~And a Stinson Reliant
~And a Waco (not picky, but I like the purple-and-blue one that was in AOPA's magazine a few months ago)
~And a Byrd
~And a Stearman
~And a Meyers OTW
~"Race" a Cubby in the AirVenture Cup Race, just for kicks
~Help someone fall in love with flying and achieve their dream

And a variety of other stuff. Like flying a 195. I could go on. But hopefully this list will give you a better idea of what kind of person I am, and the sort of flying I would someday love to do. I know most of this will likely never happen, but I'm still inclined to try : )

A New Generation and New Challenges

2009-02-03T21:55:00.007-06:00

Today I have a slight rant, if you'll be so kind as to indulge me.

I'm sick of my generation being called lazy and apathetic.

I mention this because I recently read a post on a forum about getting youth involved in aviation. It reads as follows:

"The challenges we face today in getting the young to be involved with aviation is a daunting one. It’s hard enough to get them to put down their mobile phones and stop texting long enough to see the value in it. With XBOX 360 and Nintendo Wii we have even greater challenges. When we were young there was not a whole lot to do besides play outside and build model planes. We spent our summers fishing and playing cowboys and Indians. Attending an air show was a great thrill to us. The young people today have so many distractions that interesting them in a, difficult, expensive but worthwhile activity, such as flying is daunting. As a web community of pilots the burden falls on us to find the solution. Many of us could say we love the idea but do not have the time for it. We must make time if we are going to win the war against useless pursuits such as mentioned above. Being a pilot in of itself is a great self esteem builder. Many of our young people are lead down the rocky path of alcohol and drugs because of this. Teen pregnancy is becoming epidemic. These youth need something in their lives that they are not getting from society. Remember when you earned your wings? Was it not one of the greatest accomplishments of your life? Lets find a way to bring these lost youths into aviation."

Lost youths? Ouch.

If I make firstly make a mildly ironic point: The video games and cell phone technology which is blamed for making my generation antisocial and lazy has its roots in generations before us--often the ones accusing us of being lazy. Just saying.

The call to action above, while admirable, is somewhat offensive to me, as a youth. My generation is made to sound diseased, afflicted by video games, cell phones, and sex (and teen pregnancies, don't get me started on how we think telling kids to practice abstinence, while giving them no tools to protect themselves, will work).

I'm here to tell you we're not that way. In terms of extracurricular activities and advanced academic classes, we're way more active than generations past. I myself was laden down with Academic Decathlon, National Honor Society, yearbook, and FIRST robotics throughout my high school years, all while maintaining a full course load and taking several college-level classes. That's far more than either of my parents were ever involved in. Many researchers consider my generation to be the overscheduled generation, with piano lessons, softball, baseball, yearbook, and a myriad of other activities occupying our time.

This is not to say that my way is better or that a past generation's method of living was better. That is an argument that has been going on for ages, and will continue for many more years. I'll leave you to contemplate that.

Personally, I prefer a mix of several influences. I am active in extracurricular activities here at college as well (after all, surveys and research indicate that this is the first thing employers look at on an application), but I'm sure to take time for myself and get outside as well. I stay in touch with my friends via email, FaceBook, and text messaging, but I also write letters, make phone calls, and visit. I spend too much time on the computer and at the airport. Peculiar, perhaps, but what can I say?

When I hear my generation identified as lazy and occasionally useless, yes, I'm offended. It puts me on the defensive immediately. If the youth of today are continually defending their lifestyle, then they're closed off to new ideas, mainly because they think the people trying to show them new things are looking down on them.

I'm not saying that my generation is perfect and that the amount of time we spend on electronic devices is good or healthy. However, we must admit that the world has changed. We no longer live in a social climate where kids can bike to the airport, due to "security" measures or parental oversight. There are certainly exceptions to every rule, but by and large this statement is accurate.

Yet, instead of adapting to this new environment, we sit back and simply wonder where the youth are. Despite the fact that they have no "in," or any exposure to general aviation, we expect them to come to the airport anyways. It's about as logical as assuming a kid who lives in an atheist family will pick up a Bible one day and decide he's going to pour himself into Christianity.

Unlike generations of the past, aviation is not part of popular culture. Others--including you, older generations--have taught the children of today that video games are the best form of entertainment and that computers are fascinating machines to spend days upon. We do not have Sky King or any other aviation TV show. About the closest thing I had to an aviation-related show was a cartoon with Wonder Woman and the Invisible Jet. Many small airports have withered and died, leaving youths without that mythical place to escape to, where the sky is no longer simply a tapestry hung over their heads. And why have these airports dried up? Because we are not getting the youth involved! (And then we're blaming them because they didn't get involved)

Seeds must be planted and cultivated for an interest in aviation to grow. I suppose I could be cliche and say that those that are meant to fly will do so eventually, but I'm not sure if that's really true, and perhaps that should frighten you just a little bit. If you don't present aviation to this young generation, who will?

One of the best parts about being a young person involved in aviation is the mentoring that goes along with it. Start by visiting local schools and present a current, interesting aspect of aviation. You must somehow differentiate your efforts from those of teachers, or else you're just another person standing in front of the class with words spewing out of your mouth.

Continue cultivating a love and understanding of aviation. Personally invite kids to the airport and give them your contact info and mentor them throughout their involvement. Put them on your chapter newsletter email list; better yet, publish an e-newsletter specifically suited to them, highlighting scholarships and other opportunities.

There are still youths out there interested in aviation. There are even more that would fall in love with flying if only it were presented to them.

Confessions

2009-01-30T00:04:00.015-06:00

Months before I admitted it to myself, Ed Rankin called me out on it. "You're a puddlejumper," he said. "A puddlejumper, just like me."

Ok. I admit it. I'm a puddlejumper. There, I've said it, and I don't feel guilty. On a nice day, that's all I want to do. I didn't want to climb in the Seminole and roar off into the wild blue yonder. I wanted to hop in the Cub and meander around.

What to do on a beautiful Saturday morning? Puddlejump.

A nice evening? Puddlejump.

Puddlejump. Puddlejump. Puddlejump.

That's what I like to do. And if you string a bunch of puddlejumps together, you can even go somewhere! In short legs, the trip is enjoyable. You can get out, stretch your legs, and meet some new people along the way. Not a bad deal.

I'm trying to reveal a bit of what has been termed a mild obsession with all things Cub, and why I reference that cute-as-a-button little airplane so often. This isn't the first time I've contemplated such things. Hence, here's something I wrote back in November of last year, which I hope will demystify a few things.

"There are some things in life which we must admit we cannot explain. Why do little brothers find it necessary to pull hair? Why does the dog drink from the toilet when she has a perfectly good bowl of water? Why are yawns contagious? Or how about why we love certain people, why we’re still fond of Spaghetti-Os, why we’re ticklish or not, why we love flying, or why we’re so attached to certain aspects of it. To attempt to box these concepts in deprives them of their inherent, imperfect beauty. Chaos is a part of family life. The dog has personality quirks, but we still love her and she loves us. Yawns . . . well, that’s one that’s more difficult to explain. The fact of the matter is, many things in life don’t make sense, and efforts to quantify them often falls short of fully conveying what we feel. Regardless, I’m going to attempt to offer you some insight into my unnatural affection for Piper-produced yellow taildraggers.

The little Piper Cub is so iconic and identifiable for a reason. It has trained generations and introduced them to the wonders of flight. Young pilots prepared for war by beginning their flight training in humble Cubs. It is simple, pure, and unadulterated fun with its entire lack of complexity. Its basic nature teaches the pilot feel, not reliance on instruments.

By and large, Cubs are organic. Each one has an individual character and its own unique quirks. Just like people, they respond best to a confident and firm, yet gentle, approach. The fabric stretched taut over their bony frames possesses a living quality not found in metal aircraft. Drumming your fingers along the fabric, the vibrations sound much like a heartbeat. The fabric itself is reminiscent of skin.

Beginning in the cockpit, you see that few instruments crowd the small panel. This is a straightforward, honest aircraft, a throwback to the ways things—and people—used to be. It does not smell sterile, but lived-in and casual. The fit of the cockpit is snug, making one feel much like they are wearing the airplane and are connected to it on a very intimate level. Sitting in the back seat (the primary seat), one’s view of the instruments is typically blocked by the instructor sitting in front of them. One of the things you realize is that, in a Cub, you don’t need the instruments. If you care enough to listen, the airplane will speak and tell you everything you need to know. It takes a while to finally hear all of the whispers, but it’s well worth the effort.

The skylight above offers an upward view, while the right-hand door drops down for a heartstoppingly wonderful view. Unlike other aircraft, the Cub makes no attempt to isolate you from your surroundings, and, in fact, makes every effort to ensure that you are in touch with the environment you exist in. The world we live in has many different beautiful facets, from sparkling city skylines to mountain ranges to infinite rows of corn to brilliant emerald green fields and pine green forests, and it’s a shame to insulate oneself from these surroundings. Flying is an escape, but it is also a simple, yet profound, change in perspective. Winging above the earth gives one pause to contemplate their place in life, or simply to refresh their own views and reconnect with the rest of the world outside of their work and other stresses.

I can’t claim to be a grizzled veteran who’s flown everything with wings, but I’ve logged time in a fair variety for my level of experience, I think. So far, my logbook contains a 152, 150, Cherokee 140, Luscombe 8F, two Piper Seminoles, a Beech Bonanza, two J-3 Cubs, a PA-18 Super Cub, and my favorite “no, really” entry, a Citation CJ1. Each airplane has taught me something. I made my first two landings in the 152 (hey, those first two were really nice!) and sweated through some landings in the Cherokee. I struggled landing the Luscombe at first until I convinced its owner (politely) to let me try landing on my own, then promptly greased the first landing on, though I can’t say they’ve all been that nice. I still think it’s reluctant to come unstuck from the ground, at which point I’m reminded of its “high-speed” wing (can I legally put “high speed” and “Luscombe” in the same sentence?) but still enjoy flying it when I can. The Seminoles are a really expensive weight training program so far, as they’re heavier on the controls, and I’ve only managed one really nice landing in one. I kept getting in trouble for starting to level off at 20 feet off the ground, and then I figured out that it was all my Cub training coming back—except you can’t three-point a Seminole, or at least Piper doesn’t recommend that practice. The Bonanza made me feel short as I still couldn’t get full rudder deflection even with a couch’s worth of cushions. Hence, I had some peculiar-looking wandering take-offs. It served as a great intro to more complex airplanes like the Seminole. The Citation was pretty cool, and I got to take off once, which isn’t bad for a first logbook entry.

Every airplane has taught me something. Each one has caused me to ponder a while, both about my place in aviation and about how to fly correctly. What, to me, separates the J-3s and PA-18 is that I truly feel like I’m flying. Perhaps it’s simply a mental thing, but I can’t quite shake it. There is something about those classic fabric-covered taildraggers with the drop-down door. They have a heart and soul all their own, an intangible quality that can only be experienced and never fully explained. Even then, not everyone gets it, and that’s ok. Bonanzas are fabulous airplanes for what they’re designed to do, but they are not intended to fly simply for the sake of flying. My beloved Cubs are carefree, nostalgic, and rather unpractical. Maybe that’s their appeal. They are simply fun. Cubs are not in a hurry like the rest of the world. For a lesson in patience, fly a long cross-country in one. You’ll notice things you were moving too fast to notice before, and therein lies the highest education a Cub can give you—don’t get caught up in the rush of your everyday life and forget to notice the little things, to take a little time to do something for yourself, to challenge yourself and to enjoy yourself, to take a second look at something or to do something you might otherwise call “illogical” just for the experience.

Flying can teach you a lot about life, but only a Cub can really show you how to live."

I guess what this comes down to is a simple joy of flying, and the little airplane that enabled it. I can safely say that I would not be where I am today without the influence of the Cub. Sure, I'd probably still be flying, but likely without the same mildly insane passion for it. I wouldn't be writing this. I wouldn't be trying so hard to share my passion with others and simultaneously show others how to share their love of flying. In sum, I owe a lot to those Cubs. They have shown me what it means to be passionate. They have made me believe in myself and my ability to influence the lives of others for the better.

They've also made life a bit difficult. You see, now I have a nearly deified airplane to which all others are compared. I wondered at the beginning of the school year (and still wonder today) if professional flying is for me. Will it suck the fun right out of flying by making it work? And would it be fun anyways, since I've already established my definition of fun? That was half of the reason I decided to double-major in economics. I wanted the flexibility to have a good job that would support my Cub addiction after college so that I could still fly and enjoy it, even if it were not my job.

But then I sat in statistics class for three and a half hours. It was, in a nut shell, horrendous. While the material wasn't bad, the whole atmosphere was oppressive and forced. Apparently no one majors in a business-related field because they think it will be fun, and so the whole class carried with it an attitude of only putting up with the misery. Though I enjoy the intellectual aspect of economics, I wonder if that world is right for me.

In case you haven't noticed, pilots are a different sort. They experience the world and view it differently, having seen it from a spectacular new perspective. Maybe, then, I'm just struggling with how to live in two different worlds--that of the business world, which is endured rather than enjoyed, and that of the flying world, which is filled with passion.

I still haven't decided which is best for me, which is ok, though frustrating. I don't intend to force anything in my life. I have a fairly generic life goal, and it's my theory that there are a myriad of roads leading to that end goal. I'll take life easy, like the Cub taught me, yet still work for what I want, without forgetting why I want it.

Truth be told, I feel that too many people forget why they are doing what they do. Perhaps I'm completely wrong, but it seems like generally (and certainly not always) people today fly to become airline pilots, versus being an airline pilot because they couldn't fathom doing anything other than flying. It's a problem I see and ponder. Where has the fun of flying gone?

I know it's still out there, because I've seen it. What I don't see is that side being presented to most students; certainly it is not shown to many students who start flying through college curricula. Even the flight school I worked at had a very rigid feel to it, and that's why I didn't learn to fly there.

Maybe I'm entirely off my rocker. However, I absolutely loved the way I learned to fly, and that wonderful experience only enhanced my passion for aviation further. Thus, I can't help but wonder if I would have ever felt this way had I learned to fly at more regimented, sterile flight school. These thoughts and musings are why I started this blog. Though it may be selfish of me, I want everyone to see aviation the way I do, so that they see it's not just schedules and flight plans.

I want the young child down the street to know how I feel when I gaze out the door of the Cub and survey the beauty around me. I want the elderly man across the road to feel the emotion welling up inside when we float away from the cares of the earth. I want people to feel enthralled and whimsical once again.

I want them to dream of things beyond their reach again. And I'd really like your help in spreading that message.

Sensible Nonsense

2009-01-27T00:12:00.017-06:00

It's funny how we feel we need to justify everything in our lives in this era of insecurity. No one is happy with their body, and every one is an avid social climber trying to prove themselves to others. It's all very tiring, the whole front we put on to please the others around us, from treating people a certain way to dressing a particular way to attitudes we adopt despite not truly being that way.

One of the things I find most beautiful about flying is its individual nature. It means many things to many different people and is a personal passion.

I learned to fly for myself. Not for anyone else. I was lucky enough to have people and organizations support my goals so that I could pursue my dream my way. I can look back on that decision and smile every time I think about it.

I cannot say that everything I do in life is so pure. Every other aspect of my life is tainted and tinged with the influence of others, for better or worse. From the way I dress to the way I act and speak around others, I am a composite personality, a mix of myself and those around me. It's certainly not a bad thing, but it is something I take with a grain of salt. I would not entirely undo the effects others have had on me, but I do occasionally look back on my life and wonder why, perhaps, I didn't stand up for what I really thought at the time.

Sometimes that balance of my personality and others is for the best. I'm not always right, I know, and the humility I have been taught by interacting with those more experienced or knowledgeable than I am is, without a doubt, priceless. I'm grateful for all of those who have shaped me, for better or worse, out of kindness or cruelty, because they have clarified for me who I am and what I want out of life.

Despite this, I often feel like I cannot fully be me in everyday life. I'm clearly not the first to experience this, but that doesn't make it feel any better. Some days I am fraught with insecurity and self-hatred because I do not seem to fit in exactly as society would wish that I did.

That's why I connect so much with flying. It's more than just a literal escape; it is, indeed, a psychological escape. I can be me as much as I want in the airplane, and most of the time the airplane is just fine with that. In fact, sometimes being me works out quite well (on a good day)!

Ever since my first solo, I've always appreciated alone time in the airplane a lot more. It's not that I don't like flying with others, since I love sharing aviation with those around me. It is simply that I feel at peace. Everything is well and good again, and if I had to hazard a guess as to why I feel that way, I'd have to say it's because I have to be self-sufficient in the air. I can blend the influences of others into my decisions, but, ultimately, I must be the one to decide what I'll do, from whether or not I should do another touch 'n' go to whether or not I should turn back due to weather.

For once in my life, I can make a decision that is wholly my own. It is a huge growing-up experience--no one is there to catch me if I screw up, and my life (and possibly those of others) is in my own hands. You become your own harshest critic. Instead of simply wanting to be like someone else because they're popular, you begin to look deeper. Is this someone I truly respect? Are they worth emulating?

There's an oft-repeated saying that goes like this: "To some, the sky is the limit. To others it's home." Presuming you can overlook the slight corniness, it is very true. I know that I can't explain the intangible sensation I experience when the Cub levitates off the lush grass into a brilliant blue sky. I can't explain the emotion that flows freely when I look out that giant picture-window opening and view a vibrant green tapestry framed by the friendly yellow airplane that taught me so much about life and passion. I can't explain the satisfaction that comes from one of those landings where the airplane shushes onto the runway without batting an eye. I can't tell you how inexplicably lucky I feel when I wing quietly over the countryside, feeling at once both one with the airplane and one with the world around me. I cannot express the peace there is when I gaze at the world below me, free of its limits and cynicism. For a moment, I'm an optimist, gleefully and almost stupidly so. I escape to my happy place, where all is well, even on a bounced landing.

I can't tack a value on that or try to quantify it for today's bean counters. I fly because I love it.

Since when did things have to make sense? This weekend I drove 6 hours, one way, to make a skiplane fly-in. By all accounts, it was mildly insane and definitely nonsensical. Yet, if you would have called me mad as I turned out on heading, happily surveying the world from my perch, I would've wondered how you could place a value on that experience.

Oddly enough, I found myself doing a bit of math later on. I compared the cost of gas from driving back home to the cost of renting an airplane for the same time and found myself to be quite fiscally responsible (the "rental cost" I incurred for this trip is roughly equivalent to the rental rates of at least 15 years ago). But again, would it really have made a difference? Would free gas or $4/gallon gas have made that moment any less beautiful? I really don't think so.

Life doesn't have to make sense. In fact, it rarely does, so why keep trying to make it make sense?

Sit back. Relax. Enjoy the little things in life that make you happy, whether it's a sunset on the porch or from the air.

And enjoy these skiplane fly-in pictures : ) Because anyone nuts enough to fly out in that cold weather surely understands that flying doesn't need to make sense!

The Luscombe, with its naked primer green legs.

Uncle Jer, armed for the frigid temps

A good turnout, despite the cold.

Super Cub departing

Uncle Jer on his way back to home base

A Champ on its way out

Citabria heading home

Pacer departing

Aeronca Sedan departing

A Special Form of Ridiculous

2009-01-22T16:44:00.059-06:00

I was recently chatting with a fellow aviation enthusiast who worked at a flight school, and he told me about what became the topic of this post. He was required to complete an online flight school security program created by the Transportation Security Administration (TSA).

After he briefly described what the program was about, I told him we needed to find it so I could share it. I worked at a flight school and had never heard of it, nor did I really think it was necessary.

If you're curious too, you can find it here: http://download.tsa.dhs.gov/fssa/training/# I went through both of the courses, which were differentiated for flight schools with aircraft and flight schools with simulators (they're very similar, and I'm not sure I know of any flight schools that only have simulators and not aircraft, but this is the TSA, after all).

Suspicious behavior is defined as "activity that creates uneasiness or uncertainty without being criminal or illegal."

In other words, you can toss innocent until proven guilty out the window. As you go on in the course, it becomes evident that basically anyone with an interest in aviation should be a suspect.

I'm going to list all of the "suspicious behaviors" or indicators below and then comment. My comments will be indicated by hyphenation (--comment--).

Suspicious behaviors include:

~"Transient aircraft with unusual or unauthorized modifications."
*This includes "Tape over the aircraft registration numbers," "Unusual adjustments to strengthen the wheel wells," and "Other modifications to make the identification of the aircraft difficult or that indicate the aircraft has been used for other than normal operations"

--I don't know about you, but I'm not enough of an expert to be able to tell what is or is not an STC'd modification, nor am I well-versed enough in all aircraft of the world to know if it is simply a different model than what I'm used to seeing. As for those wheel wells, since I usually fly fixed gear airplanes, I guess I never need to worry about this! Terrorists only use retractables I guess. My point in this being, the TSA has zero knowledge of aviation. But I'm sure you already knew that. And God forbid the TSA go to Alaska, since I'm pretty sure all that cool stuff they do, like landing on sand bars and the like, is not classified as "normal." That, indeed, is the problem. As aviators and enthusiasts, we're supposed to eternally concerned with acting "normal" so we don't draw attention to ourselves. What, then, is normal? If you're the TSA, normal is paved runways, towered airports, security checks, strictly business or transient trips for a reason, and chain-link fences. That sure leaves a lot out, doesn't it?--

~"Unknown persons loitering for extended periods with no specific reason to be there."
*This includes "By aircraft" and "In the pilots' lounge"

--Well, there goes the entire population of my airport . . . According to the TSA, you cannot simply enjoy being at the airport. You cannot go there to get to know people, learn more from pilots, or to watch airplanes. No wonder so few youth get involved. Had the airport I went to been hostile, it's doubtful I'd be writing this today. How many other youth have given up on learning to fly because they were presented with such a hostile, closed environment and no way in?--

~"Pilots who appear to be under the control of another person."

--Someone from my home airport would probably make some crack about traveling with their wives, but I digress.--

~"Persons wishing to rent an aircraft without presenting valid flight or medical certificates or identification."

~"Persons who present seemingly valid flight or medical certificates but who do not display a corresponding level of aviation knowledge."

~"Persons who seem unfamiliar with aviation procedures trying to rent an aircraft."

--A fair amount of people are completely unsure of the requirements for getting a pilot's license. Since when is being unfamiliar with something a cause for suspicion?--

~"Any pilot who makes threats or statements inconsistent with normal uses of aircraft."

~"Events or circumstances that do not fit the pattern of lawful, normal activity at an airport or a flight school."

--I'm not sure what "normal activity" is in the TSA's dictionary, but I'll bet it has nothing to do with fun.--

~Persons trying to access an aircraft through force.
*This includes "Without keys,""Using a tool or makeshift pry bar to gain entry into an aircraft," and "Unfamiliar persons on the flight line"

--Just because someone new is on the flight line does not mean that terrorists are trying to steal your airplanes. Just saying. Give them a chance, and try to get to know them. Automatically assuming they're a terrorist won't do either of you any good.--

~"People or groups who keep to themselves."

--Remember, only terrorists have bad days when they don't want to talk to everyone.--

~"Members of your airport neighborhood who avoid contact and refrain from
conversation with you or other airport tenants."

--The airport community itself is the greatest security measure ever. However, that does not mean that those who prefer to keep to themselves are terrorists. Most airport tenants are wise enough to respect those who keep to themselves. Since when must we snoop to be safe?--

~"Dangerous cargo or loads being loaded onto an aircraft."

--What's dangerous? The bottled oxygen used on high-altitude flights could explode. TSA rules are so vague that we begin reading into every little thing and trusting no one.--

~"Students who are vague with verbal answers or when filling out their student
application."

~"Students who are overly concerned as to whether the application includes a
background investigation."

~"Students who continually want to fly over sensitive locations or critical
infrastructures."
*This includes "Nuclear facilities, power plants, dams, etc."

--I can understand repeated inquiries being suspicious, but let's not forget general curiosity. I always thought flying near the major-league baseball park near where I live was cool. One of the appeals of flying is the new perspective on things we thought we once knew. Let's not get too paranoid.--

~"Students who ask questions that do not seem relevant to the instruction."

--I asked where the bathroom was once . . . You'll have to pardon my jest. Some things may be peculiar, like a macabre interest in the damage caused by aircraft crashes, but again, try not to overreact at the expense of some one's interest in aviation.--

~"Students who seem interested in only one part of training or who leave the program prior to training completion."

--I'm a student that left the multiengine program before completing it, but that's because I'm currently all out of money. Not everyone leaves because they just wanted to know how to crash an airplane into a building. Additionally, an instructor should know a student well enough to sense something wrong by the time they've spent several hours with them. The TSA itself notes that many students stop training for other reasons.--

~"Student attempting to pay with cash only."

~"Students speaking secretively or evasively passing notes in an attempt to avoid
drawing attention to themselves."

--Passing notes? Are we back in 4th grade?--

~"Students who perspire excessively or who have excessive nervous energy."

--I'm really glad the TSA didn't stop by after my first solo!--

~"Student who is easily agitated."

~"Any other activity that appears inconsistent with the intent to obtain full certification."

Next comes the scenarios. The TSA presents you with a scenario and asks what your response should be. As with the indicators, some are in the "no duh" category but some are simply ridiculous in their accusations.

Scenarios include:

~"You observe an individual you do not recognize working in the engine compartment of one of the flight school's aircraft. He is wearing no uniform and has no identification badge. Additionally, he has a toolbox open at his feet and he is taking tools from the box and using them in the engine compartment."

--The TSA recommends questioning the individual to ensure he is not an impostor. Fair enough, but let's not forget that most GA airports are small communities where you know the person working on the airplane or you offer to help a transient.--

~"You notice a man with some type of instrument in his hand walking around one of the aircraft on the parking ramp. Upon further investigation you realize the man is using the instrument to jimmy the lock and pry the airplane door and window open."

~"When entering the gates to the flight school training facility you see a man standing outside of the fence taking pictures. The man seems to be taking all sorts of pictures including aircraft taking off and landing, aircraft on the parking ramp, and photos of the hanger."

--First of all, I'd respect the TSA a whole lot more if they spelled "hangar" correctly. Secondly, as an aviation photographer, I resent the way my hobby is criminalized. In my case, the flying side of aviation was so unattainable that I hoped I would be able to get to know the pilots by sharing photos of their airplanes. Eventually that worked out for me, but I hate to think how many other photographers have formed the opinion that aviation is a hostile, elitist hobby.--

~"While walking on the flight line you see an unfamiliar man who appears to be altering an aircraft’s registration number. Taking a closer look, you realize that he is using tape to cover-up and alter one of the numbers on the aircraft’s registration. He has changed the “8” to look like a “0”."

~"During a routine aircraft walk-around inspection, you notice a plane on the flight line that has had its wheel wells strengthened. Further investigation shows that an additional bar has been welded on the undercarriage of the aircraft to each wheel of the plane. This aircraft is a typical, single propeller plane and is not commonly used for transporting heavy loads."

--Again with the wheel wells . . .--

~"On the way out to your aircraft you notice an individual working on a plane next to yours. Curious, you look into the plane and watch as the man works beneath the aircraft’s console. It looks as though the man is making alterations and changes to the wiring beneath the console."

--Wait a minute, the TSA just said you should be curious! But you can only be curious about aviation if you intend to catch terrorists. So for all of you who were curious about learning to fly, well, you're just a terrorist.--

~"Locking your plane up for the night, you happen to observe the wheels and undercarriage of a plane nearby. You see brush stuck in the wheel wells and splashes of dried mud on the undercarriage of the plane. This plane has definitely been landing in areas other than standard runways."

--I can't mock the wheel wells anymore. I think it'd be beating a dead horse. But, I have to question "standard runways." Evidently standard runways are always pavement, because the TSA has clearly not seen some of those more "matured" grass runways. And mud, well, that's just part of grass runways. However, since the TSA doesn't know anything about general aviation, they further perpetrate the idea of a cold, unemotional aviation that is nothing but numbers, devoid of fun and emotion. Unfortunately, that's what general aviation is all about in its purest sense.--

~"You observe an individual walking around the parking ramp looking at various aircraft. You do not recognize him and you watch as he takes time to peer through the windows of the different aircraft."

--While the TSA does point out that the person may just be someone interested in learning more, the fact of the matter is that we have nearly criminalized being curious about aviation. We are told to be immediately suspicious of anyone showing any interest, and that's bad. Instead of walking out to the airplane with the notion that you are possibly confronting a terrorist, make sure you walk out there excited to see someone interested. Even that subtle mental overhaul can make a huge difference.--

~"A man approaches you at the Customer Service Counter wishing to rent an aircraft. He requests a plane for a two-hour joy ride to enjoy the weather. He seems to have strong aviation knowledge, but does not present you with valid or proper flight or medical certificates or identification."

--Some enthusiasts learn all they can before heading out to the airport. The TSA presents the idea of a foreigner visiting as well. However, make this an opportunity for conversation, not suspicion.--

~"Walking through the Pilot’s Lounge an individual that doesn't seem to belong there catches your eye. You hang around the lounge to watch the man to see if your instincts are correct. You observe that he is not filling out any paper work, working on a flight plan, or checking weather and does not engage in conversations with any of the instructors or other students. He appears to be loitering in the lounge with no specific reason for being there."

--Again, there goes the entire population of my airport. There is something about airports, an intangible quality we're drawn to. Maybe it's simply because the airport is where we fly, and flying is a simple pleasure in life. Don't take away the joy of being at the airport.--

~"A pilot approaches you at the rental desk to check on the availability of one of the aircraft. He appears nervous, jumpy and keeps looking over his shoulder at the gentleman behind him. You observe the man standing behind the pilot and notice that he is concentrating on the pilot and seems to be concealing something under his arms. You have reason to believe that the pilot is under the control of this man."

~"An individual approaches you at the Customer Service Counter wishing to rent an aircraft. He presents seemingly valid flight and medical certificates, but needs a lot of help with the terminology when filling out some of the paper work. He also does not know the names of the different aircraft that he can rent or where he wants to fly. Some of his questions seem bizarre and his lack of knowledge of the various aircraft clearly shows that he does not have a corresponding level of aviation knowledge."

~"An individual trying to rent an aircraft wants to know what type of planes he can rent, how much they cost, and if they are already fueled. He seems unfamiliar with the aviation procedures and requirements when trying to rent an aircraft from this facility."

--Simple curiosity. Take the time to help other people out and not accuse them immediately.--

~"When instructing one of your students on the cockpit instruments, your student says, “Do you think it would be possible to fly an aircraft into the Hoover Dam? Imagine all of the damage that would cause.” This is clearly a threat/statement inconsistent with normal aircraft use."

~"An individual approaches you to sign up for flying lessons. You ask him to fill out the appropriate application and to return it when it is completed. The individual returns the application but has left several areas blank. You inform the individual that he needs to complete all sections of the application but he refuses to do so."

~"A student filling out an application is overly concerned as to whether the application includes a background check. He wants to know what the background check would entail, how far back in his history would they investigate, and who they might contact for information. He also wants to know when the background check investigation process would begin."

~"You are giving a lesson on take-off procedures but the student is constantly asking questions that do not seem relevant to the instruction. Some of the questions include, “Would it be possible if we could fly over a nuclear power plant?” and “Are there any major bridges that we will be flying over?”"

--Again, curiosity is normal and an instructor show know their students well enough to detect an abnormal interest. Unfortunately, things like this just make us more suspicious of every little thing.--

~"You have been making great progress with one of your students. You have completed training through the airwork, systems malfunction, and autopilot portion of the syllabus. In addition, you have completed several simulator lessons on take-off procedures and V1 cuts. Today was to begin normal approach to landing procedures for your student, but you have learned that he has suddenly dropped out of flight training. It seems as if he was interested in only one part of the flight training program – getting the aircraft in the air and maintaining
straight and level flight through the use of the autopilot and mode control panel."

--I love how the TSA adds that last bit of drama to make sure you get suspicious of any students that can't complete their training.--

~"An individual approaches you about taking flying lessons so she can get her pilots license. You sit down with the woman and explain the procedures and time frame for the flight school. After filling out the appropriate paperwork she hands you a wad of cash to pay for all lessons in advance."

~"A student is sitting in the Pilot’s Lounge and you notice that rather than interacting with other students or instructors he is sitting by himself."

--Go say hi and introduce yourself, then invite them over. Walk over there with a social intent, not a suspicious one.--

~"You observe that one of your students is perspiring excessively and has excessive nervous energy. He is sweating through his shirt and occasionally lets out nervous laughter. This is unusual because he does not seem to be in a stressful situation as he is just sitting in the lounge area."

~"An individual who is in-between lessons approaches you at the customer service center. He asks you some questions about future lessons but he appears very agitated. You try to answer his questions but he snaps at you and constantly interrupts you. Something is obviously bothering him."

--I sure was irritable after bad lessons. Different people deal with situations differently. I suppose we're all supposed to jump to conclusions instead of trying to be understanding.--

~"You are giving a lesson on take-off procedures but the student is constantly asking questions that do not seem relevant to the instruction. Some of the questions include, “When we get into the simulator, will we be able to fly over any major U.S. cities and bridges?” Or, “Do you think we could fly over the Golden Gate Bridge?” Or, “Does the simulator have a daylight visual model of New York City or of Washington, DC?”"

I've taken the liberty of not copying some of the identical scenarios for simulators. I feel that the spirit of the issue is thoroughly conveyed. I will not deny that some of the scenarios proposed are obviously suspicious, but I do believe that aviation is very good at policing itself.

What has been created is a culture of hostility and suspicion. If someone is brave enough or persistent enough to venture out to the airport, they are treated as though they don't belong. Employees make sure to keep an eye on the people they don't know and meet their curiosity with question after question.

In August I moved to school. As an aviation student, I was required to attend an informational meeting at the airport at the beginning of the semester. I was bombarded with presentations, forms, and questions before I even got to see an airplane. In fact, the flight school even requested financial information before a flight was scheduled, let alone conducted.

Aviation is exceedingly unfriendly nowadays. Few FBO employees will or are allowed to take visitors out to see the airplanes or to show them around. We are so afraid of losing what freedom still remains in aviation that we attempt to hoard it, as though by making would-be pilots and advocates endure a gauntlet of questions and checks will ensure only the best enter the world of flying.

Is that the kind of image we want to project? I think not.

I cannot make a business change its practices, and that is not my goal. The best vehicle for change in aviation is you--the local pilots and the grassroots aviation organizations. Chapters are able to work on a local level, networking with schools and individual youth.

Look around you.

If you won't make the effort to reach out to youth, who will?

Remember When . . .

2009-01-19T21:09:00.001-06:00

Remember when it was ok to be interested in aviation? When people didn't give you a sideways glance and file your headshot away in their memory in case you were a terrorist because you had questions about airplanes? Remember when it was normal to ask to see the cockpit of an airliner?

Remember when it was normal for kids to bike to the airport and wash airplanes in exchange for flying lessons? Remember when airport security was the characters that hung out at the airport, who wouldn't let you get past them without chatting? Remember when there were no gates or gate codes and everyone got along just fine?

Remember when "pilot" didn't immediately mean doctor or lawyer with a penchant for expensive toys?

Remember?

I don't. Not really.

Concerned yet? You should be.

At 19 years old, I barely caught the end of the era of being able to sit in airliner cockpits without being turned away for "security." For a lot of kids, the first spark of curiosity comes when they wonder what's going on up front in that big airliner that's taking them on vacation. Deny them that chance, and even at a young age, they are impressed with the notion that aviation is a highly exclusive club and common people have no place in it.

I was never allowed to bike to the airport. My mom cited a highway and concerns of me pestering the people at the airport. Many parents are extraordinarily concerned about their children's safety and what may happen to them as they ride a bike to an airport. Regardless of whether you agree with that concern, it exists and it is a factor in the dearth of youth becoming involved. Let's also not forget the drastic loss of small airports throughout the country. Remember, though, that we cannot have airports without pilots or airplanes, and if we don't get youth involved, we won't have any of the above. If the kid can't come to the airport . . . bring the airport to the kid. More on that outreach later.

My family always considered flying to be a hobby for the rich. It had all the marking of that sort of thing--gated communities and all. Until I visited a small airport, I remained under that assumption. The problem lies in this perception of aviation as exclusive, because if flying is only something the rich do, it's off-limits for the majority of the population. That clearly is not the message that should be sent. Having traveled to multiple grassroots airports, I can safely state that the majority of aircraft owners and pilots sacrifice a lot to fly and are quite average people.

Did you notice that all of the challenges and barriers facing youth are all related to perception?

Open the doors.

--Amy

Personal Connections

2009-01-18T13:40:00.000-06:00

Why is this issue so important to me?

I think I see things very differently from others involved in aviation. The average airport is chock-full of middle-aged men. I am not a middle-aged man, needless to say.

As a younger enthusiast, I've faced very different challenges to become involved in aviation. While it is easy to recognize that not that many young people are interested in aviation, I see why they are not involved--and it is not because they are not interested. The interest exists, but aviation is, in many ways, unattainable.

I also feel as though new regulations and threats to grassroots aviation affect me more. The older pilots out there have a vast array of experiences, and are disappointed to see more restrictive regulations placed in effect. I, however, have only recently discovered the joy of flight and sometimes feel that there is no future for that fun aviation that I love so much.

And yes, that statement should scare you.

Something needs to be done to start changing the public perception of aviation, and something needs to be done to ensure a future for aviation. So far, the efforts I have seen are not enough, and I do think it's because the older generations do not see the problems that I do.

So call me selfish for wanting to make sure there's still room for my brand of fun in the future.

Or maybe we should all be a little more selfish--because in feeling as though we need to protect the future of our passion, we'll introduce a whole new audience to a life-changing adventure.

--Amy

Containing Aviation, and Setting it Free

2009-01-17T23:56:00.002-06:00

More on keeping all things flying-related within neat chain link boundaries.

Often times, pilots and enthusiasts regard the airport as a safe haven. It is where we can simply be airplane people, where our aviation affliction is accepted and not questioned. In a lot of ways, we are what contains aviation to airports. Confronted with negative portrayals of aviation in the media, we choose to retreat to our safe haven to lament what the world has become, instead of working to improve the public perception.

I'm not about to say that the flying community is doing nothing, I'm just saying that we're not doing enough, or at least that the methods we're using aren't successful enough.

Yet, instead of radically overhauling aviation youth outreach efforts, we sit back and wonder why we don't see young people at the airport anymore. I am continually reminded of one of my instructor's youth experiences: "When I learned how to ride bicycle I fast became a kid on a mission, pedaling as fast as I could to get to the little airport and do some serious “hangar flying” in either a Champ or Cub," he wrote.

Despite my early interest in flying, I was never one of those kids who biked to the airport. Why? Partially due to a four-lane highway, but also due to my mother telling me I wouldn't be wanted there. She didn't want me pestering employees or causing security alerts, despite the fact that the world of grassroots aviation is a sight different from her perceptions.

Young people are discouraged by an unknowing public, and those of us "in the know" are not doing enough to reverse the idea of the airport as a hostile, forbidding place. It's time to take a cue from the church--missionaries seek to spread their faith to others, and they are not afraid to take it to the streets. The notion of aviation as a religion of sorts is not new, and it continues to be applicable. Like the missionaries who brave untamed jungles, unwelcoming local populations, and other difficult environments, aviation proponents need to do more on the local level.

It's time to get your hands dirty. Go to local schools, elementary through high school, and throw a college or university in there if you can. Flying is fun education, and it's a real application of what students are being taught in their classes. Start with a hands-on educational visit. Bring some basic props to show younger kids how airplanes fly, and leave the more scientific stuff for those who are older or still curious. Invite the kids to a field trip to the local airport--this is what EAA chapters are for! Tour the FBO, let them sit in airplanes, see the tower, feed them, and send them home with information on Young Eagles.

While I love the idea of the Young Eagles program, it has its limitations. First, most of the recruiting efforts target organizations like Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. While that's an excellent approach, it dramatically reduces the number of potential Young Eagles and future enthusiasts. This is not something that can be done instantly. It takes cultivation. Plant the seed of curiosity and build upon it. Don't throw kids into an airplane, buzz around the patch, land, and send them off with a certificate. Take more time, and for God's sake, don't put kids in the backseat. That's not flying, that's riding, and the average child will see it as no different than riding in the family minivan (and that's not flattering at all).

In short:

~Kids fly up front, never ride in the back (at least for Cherokee- and
172-types--Cubs and Champs are a bit different)
~Kids get to fly the airplane
~The kids get to learn a bit about what they have done--walk them through the
preflight, and have them help get ready to fly

That's all it really takes. Pay attention to them. They are not cargo, they are the future, and if we want personal flying to have a place in the future, we'd better pay attention.

For you ride-givers and ground support:

~Pay attention, and add a personal touch--show them the airplane and some key instruments, try to show them recognizable landmarks
~Talk to them about flying
~Invite them back to fly again, or offer to show them the hangar or other airport facilities
~For older flyers, offer encouragement in the financial sector. Make sure they know that scholarships are available to help them out and make flying attainable. As a chapter, set up scholarships for local youth and promote them vigorously.
~Host regular open houses for the community, and promote the event community-wide--don't just stick to established groups like scouts.
~Let your passion show--as part of an establishment that seeks to keep aviation bottled up, take a step in the right direction and let people know of your passion. Offer to take them flying and show them!

I have to close with this picture of Maria. It's perhaps my most favorite picture to date. It is simply a picture of a kid having fun in an airplane, and I often wonder if her brief experience planted a successful seed, or if it will just be remembered as something that was neat, but so far away from reality that it will never be seen as something within her reach.

As Dick Hill was quoted as saying to Steve Krog once, regarding the fun of flying, "You weren’t burnt out from flying, you were just flying all the wrong stuff. If you don’t intend to fly for a career, then go fly the stuff you enjoy flying and then fly for the pleasure of it." You don't have to fly airliners or big jets to have fun!

There is no greater gift than the realization of dream. We, as pilots and aviation enthusiasts, have the power to help kids realize those dreams of flying.

This is supposed to be fun! Share it!

--Amy

More Background Stuff

2009-01-17T03:49:00.000-06:00

Here's an article I wrote for the fun of it a while ago. An edited version of it was published in EAA's learn-to-fly e-newsletter "Reach for the Sky" in the December edition. Here's the longer, more complete, unedited version of the "285T's Gift" section (does not include "Keeping the Faith").

P.S. You can find Reach for the Sky newsletter here: http://eaa.org/learntofly/newsletter.asp

Keep flying. Always, always keep flying. Don’t work so hard to get your license, pass the checkride, then disappear from the airport. Learning to fly is certainly financially draining, especially by the end of the process, but always keep flying.
In my case, flying is as necessary as breathing. I can’t explain how, or why, but it just is. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m extremely partial to J-3s, but flying is flying. I’m not about to say that flying a Bonanza is the same as flying a Cub, but you can enjoy either, though in my case, I’m likely to have more fun in the Cub. But that’s just personal preference, and maybe some ingrained genetic predisposition.
In any case, here’s my “keep flying” story. I spent last summer in Texas (which is a terrible time for a Midwesterner to visit) for an aviation internship. While there, I learned a slew of amazing things that I would never have otherwise been exposed to. I helped make a fiberglass mold (I can measure resin like a pro, but boy, does it smell!), spent a week and a half half-upside down in an airplane cockpit doing some wiring work, learned how metal could be shaped and formed, learned how to safely transport airplanes on the ground, learned how to research Airworthiness Directives for applicability, learned how to machine custom fittings, how to maintain an airplane through general preventative maintenance, how to rivet, and how to cover fabric airplanes. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something along the way as it was certainly a whirlwind summer that I wouldn’t have passed up for the world.
I passed up an opportunity that summer. The foundation which facilitates this internship is run by several very dedicated and well-intentioned people. They lined up a Cessna 172 for the interns to receive flight training in, and had several wonderful instructors willing to donate their time, simply for the joy of giving some kids the gift of flight. I never made the sacrifice to get out and fly and start working on some instrument requirements. I passed up a fabulous chance to fly with an experienced instructor and get a head start on another rating, all at no cost to me. And I didn’t. Yes, I’m still kicking myself.
For the first few weeks I definitely felt as though I was in a foreign environment. I was 800 miles from home, with new people, in an unfamiliar home. Having learned to fly at an airport that was delightfully vintage, with a population primarily of Cubs, Champs, and Luscombes, I was a fish out of water in this world of airline pilots with Bonanzas and other high-performance airplanes. I longed for my beloved Cubs, something familiar. After some trials in the Bonanza, I began to doubt myself. It felt like all the work I had done to get my license had been for naught.
There were two Super Cubs based at this particular airpark, and I was always pleased to see them out and about. At last! Something familiar. I watched them with a particular fondness as they tugged at my heartstrings a bit. Maybe more than a bit.
One day myself, one of the other interns, and Mr. Keyt, our internship coordinator and Foundation founder, drove through the airpark to find a part someone else had, and we stopped to say hello to the owner of one of the Super Cubs.
Oh! What wonder! An airplane that was fabric-covered, and seemingly so much more alive and biological than the rest! What a beautiful creature. I was thrilled just to see it close-up in the flesh.
We chatted for a while and moved on. We went back to work on our many tasks, and the Super Cub remained a fond memory, until its owner walked into the hangar and asked if myself and the other intern present would like to go flying.
What?!?! Of course! As one very proud Cub pilot I was excited to see how the big brother of the J-3s I loved so would compare. Since I had no place to go after our traditional quitting time, Rey, the other intern went first.
For a little background . . . there was also an experimental Super Cub on the field. I had flown in it twice and embarrassed myself both times. It seems I never got close enough to use full rudder deflection, and, well, it just didn’t fly like a Cub.
I was itching to hop into this Super Cub though. It seemed like hours until Rey and Mr. Wood reappeared, and I leapt up to go, having collected my headset and even having put on the one pair of shoes I knew I could reach heel brakes with. Imagine my confusion as I looked at the pedals in the front seat of the Super Cub, wondering where they had hidden the heel brakes (Piper had switched to the now-traditional toe brakes). And a starter? How modern. A radio? We were certainly in the space age now!
At the back of my mind, however, was a nagging fear that if I was allowed to fly I’d make a fool of myself. Doubt had surfaced once again amidst all my excitement.
And fly I did. I basically had the airplane the entire flight, which I was extraordinarily grateful for. Mr. Wood took me over to a small grass strip (wonder of wonders! A proper Cub runway!), demonstrated a nice landing, then handed the airplane to me. He even talked me through a different takeoff procedure which the Super Cub seemed to prefer to my J-3 technique.
Somehow, some way, that first landing was perfect. I don’t often say that (that would be lying, after all), but it was. Maybe the stars aligned just so in some faraway galaxy. Maybe nature was on my side. Whatever it was, the Super Cub caressed the brown, dry grass so gently I had to laugh. A month away from Cubs and I grease it on? Too funny. I commented to Mr. Wood, “Well, I guess I got lucky on that one! Every once in a while it works out that way.” To which he responded, “No, somebody taught you right.”
Indeed they had. I still recall those words. They are, in fact, some of the most complimentary words that have ever been uttered to me, and I cherish them to this day. I had done something right. I had proven my capability to someone else, but, moreover, I had proven my capability to myself. Super Cub 285T gave me my confidence back. It restored my faith that what I was doing was right, both in the airplane and in pursuing aviation as a career. All was well with the world once again, and my little Cub pilot heart was once again at peace.
That’s not to say all the landings were perfect. The second was an accidental wheel landing (though it was pretty good), which I didn’t admit was accidental at the time. The third was nice as well, though not as nice as the first. But the view was sublime, with the door open and the window up. Steep turns reminded me why I loved flying and why I had pursued my pilot’s license. Everything felt right. Instead of struggling with managing and fighting the Bonanza, I was wearing the Super Cub, and everything was good and natural, tactile and delightful.
I was proud to be able to show Mr. Wood the spin technique I had been taught for the J-3. After getting a feel for stalls, I went to spin the Super Cub with Mr. Wood’s permission (how cool is that?!). I had to sigh with delight as the Super Cub obeyed my control inputs and spun just right. I had done something right again. I had been able to show the owner a different technique after he had said it could be difficult to do. At that point my little Cub pilot ego grew, if only out of pride and joy. A smile threatened to split my face in half. How fabulous!
I wanted to try a loop, but we had been struggling with the intercom and I certainly didn’t want to yank this airplane into a maneuver without its owner’s consent. I was not disappointed, though, as Mr. Wood demonstrated a Super Cub barrel roll a few times. What a wonderful experience! I had never barrel-rolled before in my life, and it was awesome.
My expanded Cub pilot ego was shortly brought back to size after two less-than-ideal approaches and subsequent go-arounds. To top the flight off was a memorable arrival. Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! It seemed I could almost hear the bungees stretch and grumble in complaint. Oops. I apologized to the airplane under my breath several times and also expressed my apologies to its gracious owner as well.
Months later, I still smile when I recall that flight. There have been many lovely J-3 flights but only one fantastic Super Cub flight, and the fact that that red-and-white airplane singlehandedly renewed my love of flying makes it a memorable flight. 285T and her generous owner gave me the gift of the love of flying, at a time when I wondered if my intentions had been true. She reaffirmed my every decision and rebuilt my self-esteem. It was the most amazing experience, because it felt real. Free of restrictions, limitless, and wholly enjoyable. I can never thank Mr. Wood enough for his gift. He may never know the significance of that hour, but I am eternally grateful. The best thing that I can say about it is, it felt like flying.

What I was truly trying to convey in this writing was the simple joy of flying, something that markedly few people ever get to experience. Airports have become hostile places, ringed with chain-link fences and endowed with a certain elitist mystery. Many people have an interest in flying, but have no idea how to become involved. These fortresses of airports, oddly enough, are not so much designed to keep these would-be enthusiasts out as they are to keep those involved with aviation in.

You see, if we can neatly contain aviation within that fenced plot of land, it won't be a bother. In a lot of ways, the aviation community is like the mob. Outside of your like-minded contacts, it's not much of a huge discussion topic. It might come up occasionally, but by and large, it is easy to go without realizing there is another aviation enthusiast nearby.

The exclusive nature of airports is perhaps the biggest challenge facing aviation today. We keep everything concerning flying in a small, sterile area so that the rest of the world doesn't "contaminate" it. Mostly, what this security hype does is dissuade the curious from seeking further aviation exposure. Without an "in," it's nigh impossible to gain airport access. One bad experience with an unknowledgeable airport employee can ruin a possible relationship.

The long and short of this entry comes down to activism on behalf of us who have become involved. I'll try to cover more of what I've experienced later (in the pm later).

--Amy : )

Intros

2009-01-16T00:36:00.000-06:00

I suppose I should start by introducing myself. I'm Amy, and I'm from near Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I'm a private pilot with a tailwheel endorsement, with most of my flying time in J-3 Cubs and a Luscombe 8F.

I'm currently in college at Minnesota State University, double-majoring in aviation (pro flight) and economics, while considering a third major in aviation management, but we'll see. I'm a member of the university's flight team, aviation club, and Women in Aviation chapter. So far it's been fun, and I hope to do a lot here over the next few years : )

That sort of thought is exactly what brings me here. There are a lot of things that I, as a young person involved in aviation, see as areas for improvement. We can all recognize that the population of pilots is decreasing, and we easily see that something must be done, but the measures we are taking is not enough. Hopefully through this journal I can at least reach a few people who can help : )