I'm a big supporter of Martha. I like her writing, her personality, and the fact that she reminds me of the old-school aviators I grew up around. I think her punishment was too harsh, but she accepted it and moved on. Some people can't let it go.
In your case, even if you were busted, I would think you'd get a slap on the wrist. In my opinion, I think Martha turning off her ADS-B before the act, then lying and saying it was malfunctioning, is what cost her the license. If you're going to go do low passes at your buddy's grass runway, it would be easier to convince someone that you forgot to turn on your transponder when you took off than it would be to convince them that it suddenly malfunctioned before you started your dive, then magically came back on again!
I enjoy Martha's writing, too, but she brought on the harsh punishment herself.
This is an excerpt from one of Martha's articles, later included in her book
Unusual Attitudes:
Among the oldest and most sacred rules of the air is the one about staying in the middle of it. As you would expect, I obey these commandments as religiously as the ones Moses came up with, and avoid the edges, especially the upper one that borders interstellar space. But if it’s a day when I haven’t broken a rule and some attractive nuisance beckons, like a perfect bridge or Walt Davis driving his tractor when I’m flying the T-6, I hear Clarence Wilson’s voice echoing out of the past: “If you have to do it, then do it once and get the hell out of there—nobody gets a number or even an accurate description on one pass.” Now Clarence was chief of the Cincinnati FAA office for many years, back in the days when... and after my 28-year stint investigating low-flying complaints, I can tell you he was right. When alphabet airspace was new and the amoeba-like “Bs” (the handiwork of ground-pounding bureaucrats) appeared on VFR charts, the Flight Standards District Offices were flooded with unintentional altitude violations.
Some approach controls were more draconian than others about turning in violators to Flight Standards—Cleveland being one of the worst—and getting caught usually meant a six-month suspension. Creative contour flying actually saved a person who, mesmerized by the sight of the Cleveland lakefront, realized with horror she was at 2,200 feet where the Class B floor was at 1,900. I heard that this person flipped the transponder off and on several times to indicate an equipment problem and then, back on the 1200 squawk, flew law-abidingly around the edge of the airspace to a small airport and landed... well, almost. It was a good bet that Cleveland had tagged and tracked the target, then called the FBO where she landed to weasel out the airplane’s N-number. So, on close final, this scofflaw turned off the squawk machine and “contour flew” southwest at a couple hundred feet all the way to Columbus, where it was safe to turn the box back on, climb to a civilized altitude and proceed home, safe in the arms of ATC. Please understand I relate this story (which I overheard from somebody) only rhetorically as a sort of philosophical exploration of the potential effects of overregulation. The art of contour flying is a heinous, abhorrent, sinful practice (I went to confession) that too often puts amateur and hotshot airpersons in the trees or the dirt or—worse—underneath.
(emphasis added)
Martha's latest bridge / transponder escapade was hardly her first offense. If you read her articles, you know she regularly admits to all sorts of violations and she constantly rips the FAA. When you poke the bear over and over, eventually the bear wins.
Is it any wonder that the FAA invoked the harshest punishment they could? If they could have, they probably would have preferred to stand her against the wall and shoot her.