Rubber bands – the reason I quit
Air Facts Journal
I delivered my little Cessna Cardinal to its new owner today. He was thrilled and sent me a picture of her by the new hangar. He is in his fifties and is eager to return to flying after a long hiatus. I hope it will be the start of a great adventure for him and his family. It may be the only plane he ever owns, or like me, he may go on to have the privilege of close relationships with many.
The new owner was thrilled and sent me a picture of the Cardinal by its new hangar.
There has been a buzz around the airport about this event. Like many local GA airports, we have a group of pilots (mostly older, retired aircraft owners) who congregate most days in one hangar or another. Typical conversations are just what you might imagine; aerial exploits lead the list followed by life stories and lessons and what’s wrong with the world today. (Somebody once said that there are two things that pilots hate; the way things are and change.) My flying friends wanted to know why…why am I selling my plane when I’m in good health, have no financial issues, and love to be up in the sky? The answer itself is simple, the construct more complex. The reason is that it is time. This story is how I came to that decision.
I have loved flying longer than I can remember. There are pictures of me in the back cockpit of my dad’s war surplus PT-19 and the rear seat of a rented PA-12. I was too young to remember the PT flights but the Cub? Well, the feeling of rumbling across the turf and then the sudden smoothness of flight made an indelible imprint on my eight-year-old brain. As for me being at the controls, it took some time.
The feeling of rumbling across the turf and then the sudden smoothness of flight made an indelible imprint on my eight-year-old brain.
In spring of 1967 I soloed after eight hours of dual and received my ticket that fall. The written test had 25 questions and the hardest thing on the practical was explaining what VOR was and how it worked. Various life events came along to make getting in the air difficult but I almost always managed. There is an entry in my logbook of a flight in a rented Cherokee in May of 1969 in Columbus, GA. That was in the middle of Infantry Officers Candidate School at Ft. Benning. So I took some of the precious time we were allowed away from that earthly version of Hell to get aloft. Over the years there have been dry spells but not enough to keep me from accumulating close to 5,000 hours.
Other logbook entries weave a story of the experiences only general aviation can bring.
Other logbook entries weave a story of the experiences only general aviation can bring:
- Renting an old Luscombe to save money only to find out she was there to teach me how to be gentle on the stick.
- First cross country to California from Illinois.
- First loop in the Citabria.
- Rudder stomping landings in the Cessna 180 that hated to stay in a straight line on the ground.
- Crossing Lake Michigan instead of going around it because I had earned my Multi and bought a sweet old Baron.
It hasn’t been all McGee touch the face of God poetry. There was the time I first saw ice on the wing in IMC. And then the landing near Palm Springs when I became a test pilot for the 182RG crosswind component. There is always going to be some “pucker factor” stuff if you fly long enough. And that’s it isn’t it?
The flying we do is not all that difficult. If nothing goes wrong or an extraordinary incident doesn’t pop up our skills are never really challenged or for that matter honed. What counts is how quickly and precisely we react when something does happen and the confidence we will do it correctly. It’s no secret that reaction times slow with age. In the drone racing world 30 is a grandpa. Older pilots are fond of saying what they have lost in quickness they make up for in skill. To some extent that is true. Those skills, however, need to be practiced. How many pilots do you know who count flying their favorite CFI to lunch as a Flight Review? I won’t wander off on that one now but just offer that even with some practice at some point both skill and quickness will decline. It is different for everyone and chronological age is not the only factor. I know some pilots in their 80’s with whom I would gladly fly. So why did I decide just shy of 80 to hang up my headset?
Here are the factors for me. You may see some of them coming or yours might be different but to keep GA safer please pay attention to yours. Alone none of these mean much but together they told me a story.
Even though my eyes still test 20-20 with glasses, I began to have some difficulty identifying traffic. Often passengers were pointing out bogies before I spotted them.
At times I would glance at the panel and incorrectly identify a gauge or switch, only for a second but it was there. Once or twice, I couldn’t remember how to find the page I wanted on a Garmin radio with which I had 20 years’ experience.
I was beginning to make small mistakes when copying clearances or even remembering frequencies-an incorrect digit, a readback that faltered or wasn’t perfect. Infrequent but noticeable.
Then there was the fatigue factor. I was no longer able to sit and stay focused for much more than an hour. 10 years ago, I would fly to California with stops every four hours and feel fine when I arrived.
And don’t laugh, my landings were getting worse and worse. Probably depth perception changes, but extremely frustrating. I was mentoring two young people who were vitally interested in flying by letting them fly from the right seat. How embarrassing that I couldn’t score a 9 or 10 on each landing. As we know, landing is a combination of hand/eye coordination and muscle memory. One of those was slipping away.
My landings were getting worse and worse – depth perception changes.
Finally, there was a pilot in our group who went on too long. He was dangerous and we all knew it. Subtle hints didn’t work. Just before we staged an intervention, it self-corrected by him exiting the taxiway and hitting a taxi light for no apparent reason. His family insisted that he stop.
I guess the summary in my mind was: If the big test does come; the fire in the cockpit, the engine out on takeoff or even the badly bounced landing-would my reaction be fast enough and would my response be correct. I was no longer sure.
I have always loved everything aviation down to the smallest representation of a flying machine. When I was nine or ten I came across a contest in the local park where mature people were flying rubber powered models made of balsa and covered in beautiful tinted tissue. I was enthralled. They would wind those rubber motors with something that looked like a weird eggbeater then just toss them into the sky. They flew and circled and with luck came back to the ground within the park. With quite of bit of bravery for a kid my age in 1954, I summoned the courage to approach a contestant. I had a burning question. I asked him when do you stop winding that long rubber band. He said: “Right before it breaks.”
I can think of no better way to describe my decision. Am I sad? A little. I Will certainly miss those early morning flights over beautiful fall leaves and many other experiences that only we who fly GA can gather. But it is the right time. Safety for ourselves and others is something that cannot be compromised. If you have the slightest feeling that you may be starting to lose a step, as they say in the sports world, please pay attention to the little voice in your head. Stop winding before the rubber band breaks.
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