Where did I go? First Flight

After being gone for almost a year, I'm back posting again. Lots has happened - I learned to fly an airplane and added and subtracted new motorcycles to my fleet. I'll get caught up on the bikes, the club, and being an officer later, but right now I feel like flying - well, talking about flying at least.



Here's how it started, and I'm blaming my son. I was looking for something non-warlike for him to play on the computer, and came across Microsoft Flight Simulator. And when he was with my ex for Turkey day, I thought I'd try it myself. Kinda fun, a little challenging, and it appeals to both my engineer brain and what some friends think is an addiction to danger. No danger flying the simulator, other than a stiff back, carpal tunnel, and a bruised ego. When he gets back, my son sees it, and he's all over it. Not just the Cessna 172 in the intro, but first day he's flying the 737.



Ok, job well done, fun for both of us and I can talk to him about it because I've tried it too. But then, my ex takes my son to the local tiny airport, and he gets to go on a 'Young Eagle" flight. Gee sounds like fun, maybe I should go to the airport and try an introductory lesson.



I had been interested in airplanes and flying since I was a kid. One of the neighbors when I was growing up was a B-24 pilot during WWII. He gave me some books on flying, including an "Airplane Mechanic's Handbook", which was illustrated with cool hand drawings. It never went further than that, because, well, I was going to be an engineer. I never thought flying was even an option unless you were in the military. Not like motorcycles, where I thought it was possible but my parents wouldn't let me near one, just something other people did.



So I call up Valters Aviation in Lake Elmo, Minnesota, and ask if I can schedule an introductory flight. Nate and the Piper Warrior are available Sunday afternoon. So, I trundle on out to the airport, drive down the dirt road to the flight school, and there's Nate. Hi, how are you, what got you interested in flying, etc., and we walk over to a 1972 Piper Warrior - a low wing plane that is, shall we say, "experienced."



Nate shows me how to preflight the plane. I walk around it, crawl under it, look under the hood, and although it's old, Nate assures me everything is Ok. So in we climb - he has me go in first, with the only door on the passenger side, and holy crap I'm in the pilot's seat. There's a worn & tattered binder with a plastic sleeve that has a checklist in it. You look at things, set knobs, turn the "yoke" and push on the foot pedals to see if all the controls work. The closest thing I could think of was the time I drove a friend's 1964 VW beetle - things worked but it sure seemed flimsy.



Nate says it's time to start the engine. I put in the key. There's a little primer handle that pumps a little fuel into the carburetor (geeze, more primitive than the Suzuki GZ250.) Open the throttle a little, and right before I turn the key Nate sticks his head out the window and yells, "Clear Prop". I turn the key, the propeller starts to spin, and the engine sounds like the first time I start my bike after winter - chug, chug, chug, puff. Prime another stroke - chug chug chug, puffffff vrooom! and the plane shakes, the propeller spins, and I can't hear anything over the noise. It's not ba-da-dump, ba-da-dump like a Harley, but more like someone took the muffler off a Ford Pinto.



That's where the big green earmuffs come in. They're actually headsets, and you plug them in with something that looks like an electric guitar cord. Nate and I put them on, and while the noise is still around, it's bearable.


Nate takes over, and gets the plane away from the gas pumps and the other planes, and then wants me to drive down the taxiway to the runway. The first thing that confuses me is that you steer the plane with your feet, not the steering wheel (called the "yoke"). And then there is the challenge of keeping the plane going down the little yellow line in the middle of the taxi-way - kind of like driving down the center of a two lane road with an oversize truck. I didn't hit anything, but I weaved down the taxiway like a drunken 70 year old biker.



Flying is very safety oriented - you check and re-check everything. So, before we could take off, we had to do a run up. This involves pointing the plane into the wind in a remote part of the airport and revving up the engine, to make sure it is working the way it should. So we did, holding the brakes while the little plane bucked and the engine roared. Check both ignition systems, check the oil pressure, then check it at idle. All good.

Moment of truth - time to take off. Nate turned the plane back towards the taxiway, and I moved up the the dashed line right before the runway. There's a checklist to follow, and while I did that Nate said some very official incomprehensible stuff on the radio. Taxi on to the runway, get pointed straight, and push the throttle lever forwards.

Faster, faster, faster down the runway, I can feel the rudder pedals moved gently by the insturctor helping me keep centered. We're rushing along at almost 60 knots and Nate suggests "You might want to take off before the end of the runway". I pull the yoke back slightly and we're airborne. What is an ungainly duck on the ground is really pretty nifty in the air - we're climbing at 400 feet per minute, the dial says. Nate asks " Where do you want to go?", and I reply that I'd like to travel south down the St. Croix River. I can see it easily, and so I turn the wheel (in the air that works) and down the river we go.

It looked like a clear day on the ground, but it's a little hazy from the plane. I'm trying to ask relevant questions, like how to trim the plane, in the voice I use when I want to be seen as a competent engineer, kind of trying to convince myself and the instructor that I'm relaxed and calm. NOT!

After about 15 minutes, we turn around, and Nate asks me to find the airport. Not that easy, it turns out, and I'm thinking "Great, my first flight and I get lost less than 5 miles from home. Fortunately, I see the Bayport power plant, look to my left, and there's an open area with a lot of barns w/o silos, and it turns out that's the airport. From flight simulator, I know that I'm supposed to enter the traffic pattern, and on each leg adjust flaps and flight speed. Nate just sits back and lets me do that, and after asking about speeds (90 knots downwind, 80 knots base, 70 knots final) I fly the pattern and sure enough the plane is headed towards the numbers at the front of the runway. Then Nate asks, "Do you want to land it?"

Then the panic hits - "Nope, no way, you take it you take it!". I think I surprised him because I was so outwardly calm before. Anyway, he touches down, a little hard because I think he really thought I was going to do the touchdown. I taxi back, and we get out of the plane, and there it is, my first plane flight and a new, exciting, expensive, and sometimes frustrating hobby.