First Dual Since 1975 (story)

dmccormack

Touchdown! Greaser!
Joined
May 11, 2007
Messages
10,945
Location
Lancaster County, Pennsylvania
Display Name

Display name:
Dan Mc
“Don't worry – I'll control the mixture.”

“OK....”

I sensed the anxiety – unexpected, really, but I smile to myself. This will be just like every early student flight. My father has flown before – even soloed a couple of times, and has a few hours flying around, practicing pattern work. The last two entires in the logbook are: "7/12/75 – CDW – 0.8 -- Touch and Goes”

It's been a while and we both know it, but there's something to prove, and we both know it. But I haven't trained to be a CFI to show off – I've wanted to teach and help others experience and eventually master flight. This student will be no different – I'll be tough, but fair, and eager to praise. I want this one to solo again – soon.

I turn to the left and say, “Really – there's nothing you can do in this airplane that I can't recover from – so relax. If I say, 'I have the airplane' you release the controls – OK?”

“OK.”

“And then you say 'you have the airplane.'”

“OK.”

“So let's try that – I have the airplane...”

“You got it.”

“That will work too... but then you have to let go of the yoke.”

“Right.” A pause. “It's been a while.”

“Oh I know – really – we'll just get a feel for the airplane. It will all come back to you – I promise!”

We taxi out under blue skies, scatted cumulus, at about 3,500 feet, light west winds. The blue sky is a welcome respite form the constant steel gray low clouds that cover St Lawrence County in Northern New York State too many days each summer.

The airport is quiet – When I landed here yesterday after dropping through layers of cloud on the GPS 24 approach, it took my son and I lots of looking to actually see the runway, despite the straight in. The runway surface is faded, and the markings barely legible. All around are green fields – now mostly hay.

Winters are long and hard here – forty below zero is not uncommon during the deep freeze in January. Yet summer temperatures can exceed 85 degrees and the humidity is as stifling as Florida in July.

This is hardscrabble farming country. The granite of the Canadian Shield pokes through the thin layer of topsoil. Pine trees and weeds seem more at home here than corn and dairy cows. After the big bust in the eighties many dairy operations shut down for good. Tourist like the “picaresque” old barns – locals know that used to be Don's place – until he sold out for next to nothing.

My thoughts turn to my student – he's sawing away at the throttle and riding the brakes – surprise.

I say “My airplane” and show him how a steady power setting or 1000 RPM will take us wherever we want to go. I tell him to reduce throttle before applying brake s-- always. This is a lesson all owners should know, and too few rental fleet pilots learn.

We're very interested in taking good care of this airplane, I remind my dad. It's borrowed from his friend, a heart-of-gold North Country native who stopped by, undid all the tie downs, and filled up with fuel before we arrived. The airplane is a late sixties, 180 horsepower Piper Cherokee, with the Hershey Bar wing, some updated avionics, and a far from standard six pack instrument layout. All the gages are there-- they are simply in the wrong place. A recent good paint job with a trump d'oile letter scheme graces the sides.

We taxi to the runway, do a runup. Mag check? – good, Gages green? -- good. OK, he knows where to reach and what to look for – good.

I announce out intentions on CTAF for us and the lonely radio set the pilot's lounge to hear, and then we taxi to the active. I have him hold in place, get the nosewheel straight, and remind him to keep the centerline – no drifting.

There's an awkward pause.

“Go ahead – take off.”

“OK...”

Power is applied slowly, then suddenly – we'll have to work on that. We start to drift left -- “Right rudder.” I help.

“We're at 60, a little back pressure to get the nose up and help the airplane to fly...”

“OK.”

I grab the yoke and give it a slight tug. The nose comes up, we turn left, I step on the right rudder, we lift off, the stall horn beeps, we accelerate – we're flying.

We'll stay near the airport and use pilotage to find our way around. There are only three highways – State route 56 and the varieties of 11 (11a, b, and c). The major towns are easy to spot – Potsdam, home of Potsdam State College and Clarkson University, and Massena, former home to GM and Alcoa -- both long since departed for warmer and cheaper labor.

Potsdam is the slightly more tony of the two – the influx of downstate students and dollars supports ski shops, pizza places, and even a fancy bakery. Massena can't shake off its past, the downtown replaced by the Wal Mart Supercenter, and the Alcoa and GM workers either retired of long moved away. Each has recovered from the gloomy transition days of the 1980s, but neither will enjoy the good days of the 50's and 60s again unless oil shale of natural gas is found underneath the rocky surface.

We fly west a bit as we climb. The winds cause a bit of turbulence and we endure some over controlling and yaw excursions as ailerons lift wings with no rudder input. “My airplane for a moment, please.”

“Your airplane.”

I place the yoke between my thumb and forefinger and keep my hand open -- “Relax your grip, and let the airplane fly through those bumps – it makes for a much smoother ride.” the bumps nearly disappear.

It's a cheap trick and I'm a little embarrassed at myself for showing off, “Your airplane...”

“I got it.”

“Ok, let's turn eastbound, and we'll practice out here a bit.”

The turn is shallow and the ball out of center -- “Keep the turns coordinated, please.”

“Where's the ball?”

“Right there.” The gage layout is awkward to us both.

We fly around a bit, practicing, turns, climbs, descents. Slow flight causes some anxiety, so I demonstrate slow flight and the stall buffet, then a full stall. The Hershey Bar wing flies as expected – docile and predictable.

“Let's do some touch and goes...”

“OK, that will be fine, but we'll make them full stop and taxi back. That way we don't have to rush things.”

He's eager to prove to himself that he's still “got it.”

I give him some advice on RPM settings and airspeeds for downwind, base, and final. We climb and descend and swoop and dive and I rescue the first attempt by putting us back to wings level about 40 feet up. “Go ahead an land it now – just remember to keep the nose coming up – don't let it land.”

We continue towards the runway and then an overcorrection and we balloon, and then level, and then touch down with a small bounce. We careen towards the left side and I help push right rudder to keep us on pavement.

“OK, not bad – let's taxi back on the runway – we've got the airport to ourselves – and discuss that and how to make that better...”

I taxi it and then he takes over. He is getting the feel for the throttle but is still steering with the yoke.

We get to the end of the runway, turn around, and start to takeoff roll.

This time we maintain centerline, until the nose lifts. I wait for the right rudder. We keep turning left. “This airplane wants to go left – you've gotta give it some more rudder.” I remind him, to little apparent effect.

We're airborne before we hit the pavement edge, which saves us some explaining.

The takeoff is a bit shaky but we're flying. We climb to pattern altitude and do five more takeoffs and landings. Ecah is a bit better, though this student has rough hands. Nothing is done gently – power, control inputs – all are done a bit too quick, a bit too much.
“Keep in mind this airplane is sensitive – you gotta be gentle. We don't really need big control inputs.”

“OK.”

I see the confidence returning. The desire to plant it overcomes the desire to finesse and we touch down firmly a few times. I have to reach for the yoke a few times to help save a landing, but overall the performance has improved.

We taxi back. “That was pretty good – but I think we need to spend some time at altitude getting a feel for the airplane. Your mechanics an instincts are good, we just have to refine them.”

“Yeah, this airplane isn't as easy as the 140.”

“The airplane's are almost identical – you need to get smoother – and that wil come in time.”

“So what do you think – solo in 3-4 hours?”

“It took me 5 hours after a 5 year layoff – anyway – I think with 4 to 5 hours more dual you should be ready to solo.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

This is one of those moments sons look forward to throughout their youth – the moment they can show up Dad.

These moments have happened before between us, and we're both too old to notice much. Still, it's like a small monument being toppled when your father is no longer superman, incapable of failure.

But in flight --where mistakes can compound into disaster -- we all have a benchmark, a standard to which we must aspire in order to successfully conclude each flight.

I'm happy I can share the sky again with my Dad. During his last solo flight in 1975 I watched him from the ground. I was fourteen and amazed as Superman flew that airplane – takeoff, maneuvered in the pattern, land it – over and over.

How would I ever be able to do that? I remember thinking then and many times after that.

“So when are we going back up? That felt pretty good!” my enthusiastic student proclaims, as we tie down the Piper.

“Soon – very soon!”

He has no idea how much I want him to solo again.
 
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Well, sir, you may be totally incorrect in yer political thinking, bless your heart :D :D, but that was a FINE story! :yes: Thank you for posting it - and I hope you'll keep us apprised of your dad's progress! :)
 
Well, sir, you may be totally incorrect in yer political thinking, bless your heart :D :D, but that was a FINE story! :yes: Thank you for posting it - and I hope you'll keep us apprised of your dad's progress! :)

He lives 3 hour flight away, so I don't think we'll get back there until September (Daughter's wedding in August!)

Thanks for your kind words!

Politics is stuff I think about after I've taken out the trash, watered the garden, cleaned up the horse stalls...

In other words, not as important as flying.

:)
 
I can relate too, looking forward to hearing more about his progress.
 
Dan,

What a fine post! I found myself wondering what was going on inside your Dad's head -- a desire not to embarrass himself in front of his son, perhaps, mixed with pride in his son's accomplishments almost certainly.

The best stories are honest and reveal a bit about humanity to us. Thank you for allowing us to share such a story and the memories it built with you.
 
Well Dan ,I'll add my comments,
The story was definately a Good one to read.
It's A Great Son that would do this for him.:yes:
Story bring back memories of my training,especially the heavy handed controlling.
And definately keep us informed about his progress.
Also enjoy the fact that he wants you to do it with him;)
And here is what i think of you doing this for him. :cheerswine:

Dave G.:blueplane:
 
I wish I could do the same with my dad...

Thank you for reminding us of the the bond between fellow aviators, and family...:yes:
 
That's great, Dan, I'm glad that you can do that for your dad!

Your stories make me more eager to get my CFI. 120 more hours and a few ratings to go! :)
 
Pretty well written! I like how you blend in the local history & other flavors.
 
Ya know, if your dad was the type to write HIS story of this flight, it would make a terrific article for Flying or AOPA or...

Very nice job!
 
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