My father was a pilot who owned a C172. I remember it so well.
As a kid, for some weird reason on takeoff I had a superstitious ritual that seemed to develop on its own. I had the “popeye” song running slowly in my head at taxi, and it would speed up faster and faster as we did the takeoff roll. Chicken-egg thing, I think it got in my head on a takeoff, and ever since I felt like I needed to run through it.
Or else we wouldn’t successfully takeoff. Just seemed to help
I can remember as a small child, my dad doing preflight, how it all looked from the air, longer trips and I loved when he flew night flights. We had no headsets and he used a hand mic. Overhead speaker.
I learned pretty quickly though was never sure, when dad snapped at me if I tried talking to him during say landing. I was too little to know, and I don’t think he explained, about critical moments where he needed sterile cockpit. So I didn’t know it was ok during normal flight. Just followed his lead, didn’t initiate conversation, and never knew when I’d hear “shut up” in reply, until I was older.
I also remember when me, dad, and mom were on long flights, the pee pitcher. A Teflon jug with lid, that I had to use. It either was exactly the same as, or actually THE only one where at home mom would fill with orange juice at breakfast. I didn’t drink a lot of orange juice, never sure if it was the same jug or not.
One thing, I can barely recall but my father told me the whole story, then many decades later when I brought it up, denied it. But I got it from him and recall a little of it.
Dad got me a “Steve Canyon” helmet. I loved that thing, a real (plastic toy but realistic in form) fighter pilot helmet with movable sun viser, and an oxygen mask (with waxed paper in a diaphragm that made it sound like real radio talk). After I got that I had to have it on any and all of our flights.
Dad told me he took me up once with him, and in his words “I’d like over at you, with that helmet on, sitting there and thought it would be funny” basically to get me a little sick in the helmet. His words. He did have a weird sense of humor. He apparently asked me if I wanted to do some stalls (didn’t know what they were but sure!) And he did. From him, would be laughing and yelling “whee!” As we roller coastered and I’d ask for another.
Apparently I wasn’t affected by it as he thought, but HE was staring to get a little queasy after a few.
When I asked that we do another, at that point he gently slapped the helmet and said “no..were done. Were going back now”.
It sounds worse than it was, but I found it funny when he told me about it. Many years later I brought it up, and he looked so Injured “I would NEVER do anything like that” but it was his story, I didn’t have the imagination to make up the parts I didn’t know about, specially his description of looking over at his dumb kid sitting there with that dumb helmet on.
oh well... I still find it funny. I wouldn’t do it to a kid, but..
Because I looked so up to my dad, I always felt safe in a small plane. Parents divorced when I was 12 and saw less of dad for some years. Always wanted to learn to fly but as a young man never had enough cash. Eventually forgot about the dream. Would go up with dad when I visited him, he flew to the end, though less as he got very old. But he was not a patient man, short fuse, so though I did get to try may hand at flying a little it was nerve racking.
Many years later, when I did my discovery flight it felt like “coming home” and I had a grin from ear to ear. Circumstances have slowed my progress, but I’m still a student and still learning.
