Acknowledgements: My trial flight (AIR
FACTS/Tom Curran)
I took my first-ever light airplane ride
at a small airfield where the one small FBO sported a “Piper Flight Centre”
sign above the door, with a couple of relatively new PA28s parked out front. Inside,
I presented myself to the combination receptionist/ cashier/ scheduler/ Unicom
radio operator and told her I was interested in taking their trial flight.
She leaned past my shoulder to yell at
someone behind me, whereupon a very young CFI bounded from his office, grasped
my hand, shook it vigorously, and commented on my firm grip …… “You’ll need a
lighter touch on the controls!” We signed
out the keys, walked out to a plane parked outside the door, and as I looked
back at the receptionist I swear she silently mouthed “Good luck…”
The instructor hopped on the wing, opened
the single, right-side door, flipped some switches on and off, and then jumped
down directing me to follow him as he did the pre-flight inspection. He walked
briskly around the airplane, naming each part that he touched, briefly describing
its function and what exactly he was checking for at “ground speed zero.”
Understanding little of what he was
saying, it did occur to me that I had seen other airplanes with at least TWO
doors! …… anyway, when he was done he asked me if I had any last questions (or
was it last requests?), but before I could respond he gestured toward the black
strip along the right wing root, so up I went into the cabin.
Now, I am neither claustrophobic nor
prone to air sickness but the idea that he was going to sit next to me and block
my escape had a very sobering effect as I struggled with the seat belt. I
contemplated how difficult it would be for me to throw up, let alone escape,
through the tiny hinged vent window near my left arm, as he continued to gabble
about all things flying.
He strapped in and started the flurry of
events needed to start the engine. I saw a radio, and as soon as he started the
engine I could hear a chorus of cool-sounding airplane-speak coming through the
ceiling-mounted speaker. But I noticed he never once took the hand-held
microphone out of its holder to speak. Surely, we get to talk on the radio too,
I thought?
We only had to taxi a few feet from parking
to the run-up area, where he explained it was important to point the airplane into
the wind to aid with engine cooling during the run-up. But first, the flight
controls: “Left up/right down, right up/left down, stabilator free and moving,
rudder full left/rudder full right, flight controls checked…” ….. Man, could he
talk! During the run-up he had to yell over the din of the engine and the
chatter on the radio, but persisted in explaining everything he was doing.
He checked the mags, carb heat, mixture,
fuel selector, DG, lights, flaps and trim then flew his hands around the
instrument panel one last time and asked “Ready?” …… which I now realize was a
rhetorical question! Even if I wasn’t “ready,” he wasn’t going to let me escape
at this point. He reached up and locked the door - I was trapped!
The taxi from run-up to take-off took no
time at all. I recall him telling me to “follow him lightly on the controls”,
and as we pulled forward onto the runway without stopping, he explained that
the concept of “steering with your feet” might take some getting used to. A 90-degree
left turn, followed by a 90-right, and we were stopped on the runway centreline.
Shouting to be heard over an excited
voice on the radio, he was explaining what might happen if the plane did not
accelerate “normally” during the take-off roll when I saw a shadow come over
the wing on my side and then flash over the engine cowling. The belly of an
airplane was close enough I could see dirt and oil streaks running down the
middle and hear its engine over our own! Touching down maybe four plane-lengths
in front of us it means he was probably already in the flare when we pulled out
in front of him!
The CFI just sat there staring down the
runway, continuing to jabber about something: I don’t recall what, but I do
remember the voice on the radio sounding really agitated! As we could not see
the entire runway because of a “hump” in the middle, we sat there until the
tail of the Cessna disappeared over the horizon, and waited another minute. Then
the CFI released the brakes and shoved the throttle forward. I would have got
out if I could have reached the door!
I don’t remember much about the fully-narrated
15-minute flight, other than “There’s my high school” and “That’s the park
where Ted Bundy kidnapped his last victim.” I just wanted to be back on the
ground and out of this one-door airplane. We made it back, landed, taxied back
to parking, and shut down, all without further incident.
After a very thorough post-flight
inspection, to “make sure we brought all the big pieces back,” we went inside to
the receptionist/cashier/scheduler/Unicom radio operator’s counter to complete the
required paperwork and payment, after which the CFI stuck out his hand and
enthusiastically inquired: “So, are you ready to start taking flying lessons?”
To which I responded, “Yes, but not
here”, and walked out!
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