On this day in history...

Charles Schulz passes (2/12) ...

Last of the original Peanuts strips published (2/13) ...

 

Schulz died at his home on February 12, 2000 at the age of 77, of colon cancer. The last original Peanuts strip was published the next day, Sunday, February 13. Schulz had predicted that the strip would outlive him because the strips were usually drawn weeks before their publication. Schulz was buried at Pleasant Hills Cemetery in Sebastopol, California.

 

As part of his contract with the syndicate, Schulz requested that no other artist be allowed to draw Peanuts. United Features had legal ownership of the strip, but honored his wishes, instead syndicating reruns to newspapers. New television specials have also been produced since Schulz’s death, with the stories based on previous strips; Schulz always said the TV shows were entirely separate from the strip.

 

Schulz was honored on May 27, 2000, by cartoonists of more than 100 comic strips, who paid homage to him and Peanuts by incorporating his characters into their strips that day. (Information borrowed from internet postings)

For those of us who grew up reading these and identifying with all of the characters, February 12 and 13 were very sad days. I can't count how many times I've had the football pulled out from in front of me by some "Lucy" character. And the "World War II Flying Ace" was my hero and inspiration when I was getting my pilot's license.

  

Good stuff to grow up with. Sure beats a lot of the junk in this arena that is out today. Learned a lot of "life stuff" from Mr. Schultz and his cast of characters. One line that I like that is attributed to Charlie Brown goes like this: "SOMETIMES I LIE AWAKE AT NIGHT AND ASK, 'WHERE HAVE I GONE WRONG.' AND THEN A VOICE SAYS TO ME, 'THIS IS GOING TO TAKE MORE THAN ONE NIGHT.'

 

"In the book of life, the answers are not in the back."  (Anon./attributed to Charlie Brown)

 Hooah

Student Pilot's Journal ...

A friend of mine sent this to me the other day.  He flew when he was in the Navy and thought I would enjoy this.  I was a private pilot for a number of years while I was in the Army, and flew to meetings in other states in the little Cessna 172 as it was much easier, required less time, and was less of a hassle to do so. Besides, the government paid for it !! Is this a great country or what??   

As I read this short article, I thought back to my time as a student pilot and recognized some of these traits in myself and other student pilots who would hang out in the pilot shack, extolling their daring and self-proclaimed feats of aerodynamic brilliance.  I really wasn't as bad as our subject "student," as my absolute operational rules were:  1) Do not scare your passengers, and 2) the airplane needs to be returned in the same condition is was when you started.  With that in mind, enjoy the article (Thanks, Keith).

A Flying students’ diary

Week 1
Monday: Rain
Tuesday: Rain
Wednesday: No rain; but no visibility either
Thursday: Take instructor to lunch. Discover I don’t know enough to take instructor to lunch.
Friday: Fly! Do first stall and second stall during same maneuver. Cover instructor with lunch.

Week 2
Monday: Learned not to scrape frost off Plexiglas with ice-scraper. Used big scratch as marker to set pitch.
Tuesday: Instructor wants me to stop calling throttle “THAT BIG KNOB THING.” Also hates when I call instruments “GADGETS”
Wednesday: Radios won’t pick up radio stations, so I turned them off. Instructor seems to think I missed something.
Thursday: Learned 10 degree bank is not a steep turn. Did stall again today. Lost 2000 feet. Instructor said that was some kind of record — my first compliment.
Friday: Did steep turn. Instructor said I was not ready for inverted flight yet.

Week 3
Monday: Instructor called in sick. New instructor told me to stop calling her “BABE”. Did steep turns. She said I had to have permission for inverted flight.
Tuesday: Instructor back. He told me to stop calling him “BABE”, too. He got mad when I pulled power back on takeoff because the engine was to loud.
Wednesday: Instructor said after the first 20 hours, most students have established a learning curve. He said there is a slight bend in mine. Aha–progress!
Thursday: Did stalls. Clean recovery. Instructor said I did good job. Also did turns around a point. Instructor warned me never to pick ex-fiancée’s house as point again.
Friday: Did circuit work. Instructor said that if downwind, base and final formed a triangle, I would be perfect. More praise!

Week 4
Monday: First landing at a controlled field. Did fine until I told the captain in the 747 ahead of us on the taxiway to move his bird. Instructor says we’ll have ground school all this week on radio procedures.
Tuesday: Asked instructor if everyone in his family had turned grey at such an early age. He smiled. We did takeoff stalls. He says I did just fine but to wait until we reached altitude next time. Three-Niner Juliet will be out of the shop in three days when the new strut and tire arrive. Instructor says his back bothers him only a little.
Wednesday: Flew through clouds. I thought those radio towers were a lot lower. I’m sure my instructor is going grey.
Thursday: Left flaps down for entire flight. Instructor asked why. I told him I wanted the extra lift as a safety margin. More ground school.
Friday: Asked instructor when I could solo. I have never seen anyone actually laugh until they cried before.

For those who have known the thrill of being a pilot in charge of an airplane that is capable of carrying one into the land of angels, this will hit home as funny, scary, unbelievable and amazing.  We've all been there...and now we look back and remember those times.

When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.  (Leonardo Da Vinci)

Hooah

Kitty Hawk...

A long time ago, I wrote a lot of articles about my flying days.  Those times were right up there with the most challenging and exciting events of my life.  I am still a little bitter about having that taken away from me by the government, but every once in a while I get together with one of my friends from the pilot's club and we "go out" for a spin.  I guess what Sam doesn't know won't hurt him.

Anyway, Pam and I had the opportunity to take a trip to the Outer Banks area of North Carolina this past summer.  I know -- that has been a while ago and I'm just now getting around to writing about it.  I find I do my best golfing in temps above 45 and my best writing at temps below that.  BTW -- it's minus 1 degree outside now. There are lots of really great things to write about, but I wanted to start out with our visit to the Kitty Hawk area where the Wright Brothers first flew their plane.  There are lots of excellent exhibits and plenty of historical sights laying out what must have been an awesome time to live.  There are also plenty of displays that chronicle the written history of their work.  Probably much more than most people would want to take the time to read.

This plaque in the huge rock marked the spot where the first flight took place, going from there to  the first rock on that flight, the second rock on the second flight, and the third rock on the third and longest flight.  I do not recall if the small rail located to the right of the rock is the actual rail used in conjunction with the flight or if it is merely a visual aid.

The weather didn't hold allowing them to do much more beyond that, but their theory had been proven.  Powered flight was now a reality.

On the grounds there is also a mock-up of the work shop/shed where they supposedly did lots of work on the plane's parts, and supposedly parked things when they needed to get them in , out of the elements.  There were a lot of visitors there that day and since there was no Ranger around to watch the sheds, all the little kids felt they had to run around inside them.Not so sure I would have wanted my kids running around inside them.

Again, having been a pilot, I was pretty much into this place and what was done here.  But by itself, this wouldn't even begin to show the brilliance of these two brothers from Dayton, Ohio.  To get a better glimpse into the history of flying, people need to visit the Air Force Museum at Wright Patterson AFB, which is located in Dayton, OH.  Ironic. What they need to do here at Kitty Hawk is come up with some sort of time travel machine that would take visitors back and forth between Dayton and Kitty Hawk.  It is truly incredible to see the rapid advancement of aviation that took place after the Wright's flight of December 17, 1903.

Oh, and one other thing -- I don't know why it struck me as such a revelation, but there is a small airfield (NR01 is the field identifier.  Elevation is only 10' ASL - estimated)  there on the grounds.  When Pam and I were out on the  beach, I would see the typical tourist thing of an airplane flying over the beach, towing a banner advertising eating establishments, etc. But I never knew where they came from.  Now I know.

I would have loved to have been able to take the controls of one of their Cessna's and flown on the same grounds as the Wrights, the place where it all began.

Again, this was just one part of our vacation trip to the Outer Banks (a.k.a. "OBX"), but for me it was like going back to my favorite malt shop in Zanesville where I grew up.  I kinda think I knew what took place there and kinda remember what it all led to, but it was so much fun to see it.

When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.  (Leonardo Da Vinci) 

Hooah

You just never know how things will turn out...

I was in church last Sunday and a friend came in with some of his family with him.  One of the people was a lady, probably in her late 30s, who looked familiar.  Now, before you start shooting harpoons at me being a dirty old man, remember I was in church. So, cut me some slack.

As I was looking at the young lady, trying to remember a name, she said "I know you. You're Mr. B."  So that narrowed it down to the low thousands of people it could have been.  If I had remembered who she walked in with, I probably would have remembered quicker. 

Anyway, it seems that she was a student at THS back in the day.  She reminded me that when I returned to work (I was the Assistant Principal there) following a deployment for Desert Storm, I happened to be observing a teacher who was conducting a math class.  The students were asking that time honored question:  "When are we ever going to use this stuff."  I asked the teacher if I could answer that and proceded to tell them how important math was in figuring azimuths and back azimuths in something called land navigation, a skill that was very important in the military.  Of course, that was then and this is now.  All they have to know is how to turn on a GPS.  Progress?

I taught the class for the next two days and then I took the class out to the football field where I had laid out a compass course and let them have at it.  As they came to the correct location, they were either given a front azimuth or a back azimuth and they had to figure out which one they had and then find their way to the next spot.  If they navigated the course correctly, they got a candy bar at the end. 

She said she has remembered that course and how much fun it was.  Then, surprisingly, she told me she now is a math teacher.  Go figure. With all the pressure on teachers today to be "accountable" and teach for the "test" I doubt she could take time to teach something like this.  Too bad.

And then, just when we finished talking about that, another friend who was listening to all of this said he was talking to a young person up town  who said they were from Anna.  He said if that was the case, then you probably know Mr. B.  The young person said yes -- he used to have writing contests at the school and the one who won would get a plane ride from him (back when I had my pilot's license).  I also would take the middle school student of the month up for a ride.  That was fun and the kids really enjoyed seeing Wal-Mart and their grand parents' farm from 3,000 ft.

Those were some really great times and I thoroughly enjoyed working with young people. I think some of them learned a few things and really liked flying.  I enjoyed any excuse to take the plane out.

When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.

Hooah

Something new at the Sidney Air Fair...

Although I can say I have already checked off riding in a hot air balloon (Pam and I did that for an anniversary present one year), I have never been part of a balloon crew before -- at least not until this past weekend. Now, I can officially cross that off my bucket list. It was pretty cool.

The weekend started off Friday night when we got to take a ride. I have to say, it was pretty smooth and very scenic. Our pilot, Rubin, said that he could have a new pilot ready to be tested in 10 hours of flying instruction. It takes a minimum of 40 hours of instruction in a fixed wing plane just to get signed off to take your solo test and then get your check ride. They still have to do pretty much the same safety stuff we do in terms of 100-hour inspections and annuals, etc.

After we returned to the airport, we set the balloons up again and they had what they call a "glow." Those are really cool -- these huge things all aglow with the propane burners shooting out flames and roaring away. Unfortunately my little camera isn't up to the task of capturing this very well for you.

But having seen a number of these, I can see why the old farmers in the earliest days of hot air flight thought they were horrible demonic things with devils flying them. In those days the farmers used to come out after the crew with pitchforks when they would land. Thankfully now they only come out in their tractor or golf cart with the wife and kids to see this way cool site.

As we were floating over near the interstate highway, we got close enough to the "Lost Corn Maze" to see what their design was this year. Ironically enough, it was a hot air balloon. Who would have thought.

My niece, Meredith, is a hot air balloon pilot and she had her "envelope" (that's the fancy name those pilots call their balloon.) there, but hers is a small one so she was only able to take her mom on the Friday night flight. But that's a good thing, cause her mom has never been flying with her in all the years Meredith has been doing this. Good for you, Carol.

As we were floating along, seeming to stand completely still while the earth moved below us, I remembered an old aviation joke which I just now converted to hot air ballooning.

A man flying in a hot air balloon suddenly realizes he’s lost. He reduces height and spots a man down below. He lowers the balloon further and shouts to get directions, “Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?”

The man below says: “Yes, you’re in a hot air balloon, hovering 30 feet above this field.”

“You must work in Information Technology,” says the balloonist.

“I do” replies the man. “How did you know?”

“Well,” says the balloonist, “everything you have told me is technically correct, but It’s of no use to anyone.” The man below replies, “You must work in management.”

“I do” replies the balloonist, “But how’d you know?”

“Well”, says the man, “you don’t know where you are, or where you’re going, you expect me to be able to help. You’re in the same position you were before we met, but now it’s my fault.”

Hooah

"Up, Up and Away"...

Back in Pam's and my days at Ohio University, there was a singing group out called The Fifth Dimension. This group was really popular, singing around the fringe of the hippie movement and the love culture, but not casting their lot with the drugs, sex and unrest that accompanied/plagued the others. They had a good sound and made lots of money, but they went by the wayside because they were probably too good a group that wasn't flashy enough or controversial enough for the emergence of rockers that were taking over the business.

The reason I go into all of that is because one of their best songs was titled "Up, Up and Away." It was a light, happy song, with catchy lyrics which later became the theme song for a major airline. The song's lyrics got attached to the whole hot air balloon industry, becoming the instantly-recognizable image that surrounded that segment of flight.

My niece, Meredith, became a hot-air balloon pilot a few years back, and had gone in for the whole enchilada - a big, yellow balloon (they call them envelopes) that looks like a huge yellow light bulb when they do "glows," the basket, tanks, electronics, and a new Toyota Tundra truck(with a hydrolic lift on the back) with which she hauls all this stuff to rallies and county fairs.

Last weekend, she was over at the Maria Stein Country Fest, a small country festival near our home. If you have not been to one of these things before, they are really fun, with lots of food and local entertainment (Pam and I saw our first "Tractor Square Dance" at this year's event -- we were told that this is a Country Fest staple and it was quite a draw.)

I really enjoyed this particular night because Meredith asked me to help her with some of the balloon set-up. It really is quite a bit more strenuous than getting the old 172 ready for flight, and I was really impressed with how she glides around, handling things, getting the beast ready for fire (the burner that fills the envelope with hot air). You don't know how much of a temptation it is to rattle off a list of politicians who could have filled this balloon, some single-handedly, and kept it up at least through Massachusetts.

There were 6 or 7 balloons there that night, and they all participated in the glow. Only a few of them flew and only for a short flight since the day's winds had not died down early enough. You see, they are only allowed to fly in daylight (VFR rules only). The colors of these huge elephantine-envelopes highlighted an already spectacularly- blue sky. Pilots call this a "severe clear" sky.

Pam and I took a ride in one of these magnificent flying machines for an anniversary about 15 years ago. It was spectacular! In a way, I envy Meredith that peace and serenity. It's a lot of work to get it in the air, but she really knows her stuff and I can hardly wait to go "Up, Up and Away..."with her. You go, girl.

I have known today a magnificent intoxication...I have learned how it feels to be a bird. I have flown. The balloon seems to stand still in the air while the earth flies past underneath. Yes I have flown.

Hooah

Fly-in to Urbana...

This past weekend certainly perked up my spirits and rekindled an old flame -- an old passion. Out of the blue, my neighbor down the road called and asked me if I wanted to go with him to a fly-in for breakfast over at Grimes Field in Urbana. One of the coolest things about having a private pilot's license is having the ability and means to get into a plane and fly off somewhere for a $5.00 pancake breakfast, see the sights and enjoy the company of other pilots. I know, it probably cost about $40 or so to do this, but it is generally worth it and ends up being something few people have the opportunity to do. Dave has a grass strip behind our house, and it was easy to hook up with him. As we took off, rolling down the field, we saw Pam and Bailey standing at the far end, waiving. I felt like I should have been wearing an old leather helmet and goggles with a long, white silk scarf as we cleared the telephone wires and turned east to do battle with the Red Barron.

In this case, the Urbana folks were also showing off the new hanger they had built and the vintage planes they were restoring. One of the things I have noticed lately at these sorts of things -- fly-ins, ham radio "Field Days", fishing derbies and lazy weekend days along the banks at Lake Loramie -- there are a lot of "old guys" (probably grandpas) there with youngsters -- both boys and girls. I think this is really neat. I was a speaker last year at a father-son breakfast at the Catholic church up the road and the point of my message was there needs to be more of this kind of thing and that sons and grandsons are losing a lot by not talking to dad/grand dad and listening to his stories -- especially if they were veterans of WWII, Korea or Viet Nam. There is a lot of family history and "grandpa wisdom" being lost every day and not being passed down.

Anyway, the planes they were restoring were interesting to see.








One in particular, was a B-25 Mitchell bomber. They have done a fantastic job restoring this piece of history. And though it still has some to go before it's complete -- the tail section and the aft gunner area are being done now -- you can see the hard work and love they have put in so far. Look at it shine.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't at least mention the replica Wright-B flyer they built, and the old DC-3 they were also restoring. I think I could have seen that old plane in the movie "Con Air".








It's pretty much gutted right now and probably saw it's last real flying time as a cargo plane somewhere. The name of the company who flew it is "Desert Air" -- I wonder which desert.

Well, it certainly was a fun time, and brought back some good memories -- like the time I took Doug and Danika on a little flight in the 172. They were pretty brave to both get in the cramped back seat of that little plane and go up with a "low hours pilot" like me. Maybe when I get my ticket back, I'll take Quinn up for a ride ... maybe when he's a little older.

Nobody who has not been up in the sky on a glorious morning can possibly imagine the way a pilot feels in free heaven. (William T. Piper)

When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. (Leonardo Da Vinci)

Hooah

Boy, I sure miss this...

It's hard to believe that it was almost 10 years ago that I completed my first solo cross country flight as a student pilot. Boy was that a milestone in my life. Imagine, having not only the authority to take someone's airplane all around Ohio by myself, but also the talent to do so. I mentioned in my last flying entry that the first solo around the pattern was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Well it was. However, multiply that by 3 pattern landings each at two different airports -- Zanesville, Ohio (ZZV) and Athens, Ohio (UNI) and a total of 4.2 hours of flying and you might come close to knowing what this was like. I chose those two airports because, as you know, I grew up in Zanesville and always wanted to fly there, and I went to college in Athens at Ohio University. Zanesville Municipal Airport used to be a stop for the old Allegheny Airlines which later became Lake Central which later was absorbed into a new airline called U.S. Airlines. I had an uncle who used to fly for the Navy during WWII. Later in his life he got his wings back and owned a Bonanza. He flew into Zanesville every once in a while and one time he took Pam and me up for a ride. That was one of those things that served to heighten my desire for wings. Anyway, back to the cross country solo.

After Trent (my CFI) reviewed my flight plan, listened in on the weather briefing I got from Dayton, and went over emergency procedures with me one more time, I took off from Sidney (I12) and headed east. Now I can't say for sure that I was the most excited pilot in the area that morning or not, bit I know Trent was excited for me ( he was also excited because he was the one who unleashed me and if anything went wrong, it was his butt). But also, I think the airplane was excited for me. You see, a good pilot talks to his plane as he is doing pre-flight. At least I read that somewhere. So, as I climbed all over it that morning, I said how excited I was the two of us were going to get away from pattern work and get out into the wild, blue, yonder.

I was about 15 minutes out of Sidney when I had to make my first decision. Since I had already decided to avoid any controlled airspace, I had to figure out if I wanted to go north of Columbus or South to avoid the Class-C airspace of Port Columbus. I chose north because there was a big, easy to see lake north of the city which, if properly navigated, would keep me away from anyone in the Columbus tower. Since the prevailing winds were out of the southwest, I would get a little northerly push anyway. That would help with fuel economy too. Once past Columbus, I kept a close eye on the chart to see if there were any other easily recognizable landmarks. One that popped up right away was the big basket at the Longaberger Headquarters. This is a huge, multi-story building that is shaped like one of their baskets. This indicated I was getting close to Newark. The next big natural feature was Dillon Lake. Once I saw that, I knew I was right on track. The Zanesville airport would be up ahead just a bit. I made contact with Zanesville flight opns. and was cleared for pattern operations and landing. Since it used to handle commercial traffic, Zanesville's runway was huge -- or so it seemed in this little plane. I taxied to a tie down spot and then went in to complete my required duties -- sign in at the pilot's "guest book" (this proved that I was really there), tell them what a nice airport they had (this is a time honored pilot thing, and it is also good PR), get my log book signed off by the person manning the desk, and then go to the bathroom. About 15 minutes later, I was back in the plane requesting permission to take off. On to the second leg of this epic flight, and south to Athens.

One nice thing about flying from Sidney to Zanesville was all the farm fields en route. They served as a reassuring reminder that if anything went totally wrong, I had plenty of places to land and get help. The second leg -- Zanesville to Athens -- was not so reassuring. You see, that is all hill country and lots of forest land. There were open fields, but they usually didn't have any approach lanes and were hilly with lots of BIG rocks and creeks. No problem. Just fly the plane. I stayed on course and pretty soon I saw the dome of the Convocation Center which meant I was getting near Athens. Once I landed, I did the same routine as in Zanesville, except that the airport manager came out to meet me. He said I was to call Trent. Great!! Now what. Trent wondered how the flight had gone so far and said I should not waste any time getting back because he thought the weather was going to get dicey and I could lose my ceiling before too long. So off I went.

On the way back, I had another decision to make. I could fly straight west below Dayton and WPAFB and above Cincinnati and then turn north and hightail it to Sidney. That was my original plan that bright sunny morning. But it seemed like a long way to go now with the weather getting crappy at home. So I took the straight line approach back to I12. In doing this I would have to stay a bit south of Columbus, but also stay away from Wilmington and the Air National Guard flight training ranges in that area. I was a pretty good navigator with a map, so that was the route I chose. There was only one time where I wanted to pull over and ask directions. But then I remembered real men don't pull over and ask for no stinking directions (especially in an airplane), so I would just find my own way. And then I remembered what Trent told me about those big water towers -- you know, the ones with the city names on them. He said they were build like that for pilots in the old days, before new-fangled navigation devices. He also said something about them being handy for rookies on cross country flights. Ahaa!! , said the rookie. I thought I knew where I was, so I dropped down about a thousand feet, circled the tower once and discovered I was absolutely right on!! Hooah. From there it was a little hop over Springfield and north up the east side of I-75 to Sidney.

Trent was right. The weather was closing down quickly and visibility was crapping out. If I hadn't been almost over the airport, I would have missed it the first time. Anyway, I was back and that milestone was completed and logged in the book. What an absolutely GREAT experience.!!

"The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? - it is the same the angels breathe." (Mark Twain)

Hooah

First Solo ... (aka "One small flight for mankind")

I may have mentioned before that one of the neatest Christmas gifts I ever received from my wife was the certificate she gave me in 1997 for an introductory flying lesson . For some reason or other, I didn't begin my lessons until the following summer, but when I did, this ranked as one of the more memorable experiences of my life, right behind getting married, the birth of our son, making it through two wars and heart attacks.

Trent, my instructor, was a pretty good young fellow, who gave lessons enroute to building his hours so he could apply to an airline where he had hopes of making big bucks. He had a good sense of humor and put up with my stiff, heavy-handedness on the controls as I learned to transport two souls into the great blue beyond.

We spent lots of time doing touch-and-gos, pattern work, and numerous maneuvers designed to demonstrate a proficiency at handling the (Cessna) 172 Skyhawk. Other than when I initially flew with my eyes closed (it's s'posed to be that way -- part of a maneuver to demonstrate recovery from unusual attitudes), I surprised myself and overcame an early tendency to get airsick.

I began my lessons on July 10, 1998 and soloed on December 5 of that same year. It was my goal to solo in November, but Trent must have seen something in my less than stellar preparation that led him to put me through some more drills. So, on December 1st and 3rd, I spent almost an hour each day just doing take-offs and landings that looked acceptable to him. Then the next day, I did almost an hour on go-arounds, and landings (normal and cross-wind).

I came to the airport on the 5th expecting ol' Trent just to say "Take 'er up, Mike -- you're obviously the best pilot it's ever been my privilege to instruct."

Guess what -- he didn't even say anything like that. I think I might have been a bit miffed at that point, but certainly wasn't going to yap at the guy who's signature was my future in aviation. So, I got the plane ready and off we went to another 3/4 hour of steep turns, slow flight, stalls and landings. After four landings, Trent said to pull over to the side of the runway and let him out!! My God -- it wasn't that bad, was it? Nope. He said "Take 'er up and go around the pattern some and give me 3 or 4 landings and let's see how it goes." My first solo.

I've read about how light the plane seems, how it seems to list to the left because the right seat is now empty, and how it seems to jump off the runway and float when it's landing. All of it is true. But boy, what a rush anyhow!!

When I landed and taxied back to the hanger, I figured Trent must have forgotten about me because he wasn't there with the band and the confetti. Once I turned off the engine, however, I did see him coming out of the office with a pair of scissors -- oh, oh. He told me to pull my T-shirt out and he proceeded to cut out the back of it. That's an old custom when one passes his first solo -- the instructor cuts the back of the shirt out.

In the old days of bi-planes, when the pilot and instructor sat one in front of the other and there was no intercom, the instructor would pull on the student's shirt to indicate where he was to turn, fly or maneuver. Cutting the shirt is a time-honored tradition indicating the student no longer needs the instructor tugging at him. He is now able to fly by himself... well, sort-of. Another custom is to draw some sort of airplane scene on the cut out part and get it signed by the instructor (and any witnesses) and then post it in the weather briefing shack until the next student earned that status.

Mine was up for about 5 or 6 months. Not many solos in the dead of winter.

"When you come to the edge of all the light you have known, and are about to step out into darkness, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen; There will be something to stand on, or you will be taught to fly." (Richard Bach)

Hooah

My early flying roots...

I think I might have mentioned in one of my earlier writings that I have a Private Pilot's license. I'm one of those low and slow guys (i.e. I fly/flew a Cessna 172 SkyHawk, which is a high-wing airplane usually associated with training schools). Nothing fancy, no retractable landing gear, no high performance engine and a cruising speed of about 120 or so, depending on winds aloft.

The earliest inclination that I wanted to fly came when I would visit my grandmother and her husband (early 1950s). They managed an airport (grass strip) in Zanesville, he took care of the planes and she managed the little restaurant. How about those really cool pilot sun glasses I had back then. My first chick magnets.

Those were the days of real flying -- unencumbered by so many government regulations and terrorist worries. The typical pilot was usually a WWII vet who either flew during the war or wished he had. Training usually consisted of only a few hours and then a solo in a plane that would probably bounce off most things it would hit if the landing was less than desirable. Most of the guys (and they were usually all guys) did their own maintenance and insurance wasn't something real pilots knew of or worried about. Not at all like today.

My wife bought me my first lesson -- it was a Christmas present. What a great present. I'll bet none of your wives has ever done anything like that for you!! Well, after a year of lessons, a flight physical from a half-blind/half-deaf doc, a written test, a flying test, and a sizable expenditure of cash I was able to legally rent an airplane and fly just about anywhere I wanted or was brave/rich enough to go.

Having a ticket to explore the skyways and our countryside is really fun and you haven't seen a bird or a tree or cows in the fields until you have seen them from above. It has been said that there are really only two true emotions in a plane: boredom and shear terror. Having said that, however, I found that I especially liked to go up and commune with the birds on Sunday mornings. I felt like I was close to God up there by myself. What a Great co-pilot.

But going by myself wasn't the only thing I did. I also took students up for a ride who did something extra special at school as a kind of reward for their efforts. Most of the neighbors' kids who wanted to go and could get one of their parents to go with them also got to see their house and probably their grandma's & grandpa's house from the air. They were also treated to seeing the roof of Wal-Mart, Lake Loramie, the Villages of Anna, Kettlersville and McCartyville, a corn maze or two and other irresistible highlights.

I also flew a few times on Uncle Sam's nickel when I had to go someplace for Army business. I would get the plane and fly to Wisconsin or some town that had one of our MP units deploying for the war. That was quite an experience as well as an efficient use of time and tax payers money. I've got a good story about landing at an airport shortly after 9/11 while on Army business wearing my BDUs -- but that will be for a later time.

A heart attack, stupid FAA regulations, gas prices and military deployments have all conspired to keep me on the ground for the past three years, but I still have the fire. Keep your ears up -- that next small plane you see or hear could be me.

When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.

Hooah