So maybe there was a real purpose in flying that day

I was the usual small-airport teenager in the late 1960’s doing everything from fueling and washing planes to cleaning the bathroom at the little FBO and whatever else thrown my way. I was earning $1.25 per hour. I passed my Private Pilot checkride a couple of months after turning seventeen.  Life intervened a few years later, and when I could maybe afford to fly again, the idea was swatted down by my wife, the mother of our five kids.  I was surprised three years ago when she said, and I quote, “I know that you liked to fly.  I’d rather have you auger in at 75 than change your diapers at 90.  Go fly.”  So I did.

After I was current again and reasonably proficient, the 16-year-old son of some friends asked if he could go up with me.  I said he could, but only if his parents were very clear as to my experience, the record of the flying club, the kind of plane we’d be flying, Vx, Vy, everything.  They gave an enthusiastic thumbs up and we had a great flight.

The 40-minute flight was a life-changer for my 16-year-old passenger.

On the 40-minute drive back home, I asked the young man about his plans.  He said that he was planning to go to a trade school and that college seemed a waste of time with the extra classes needed to graduate in addition to the core subjects.  I noted that for me, those “extra” classes had been some of the best offered and that college life itself was an often-broadening experience, etc.  I also brought up the idea that, considering his enthusiasm during our flight, if an aviation career was a possibility he would usually need a college degree of some sort.  About the time we got to his house, he said, “I think I’ll go to college.”

The next day, I sent a short report to his parents about our flight and our conversation, and I received back two gushing emails: “THANK YOU!  THANK YOU!” was the main thought in each.  One parent works in a tech field and the other is a trained musician, and they had been hoping that he might finally consider attending college.

Don’t get me wrong; college isn’t for everyone, and for a lot of folks it’s a waste of time and money.  There are many honorable, necessary, and remunerative occupations for which it is not needed, and “your mileage may vary” applies to university degrees.

However, maybe there was a purpose in my flying with him that day other than just having fun.  For me, flying is a very enjoyable and interesting activity, and it’s a good way to make sure that I don’t leave my own kids any burdensome inheritance.  Who knows?  The paths that life can take have all sorts of forks, any one of which may lead in a very different direction than the original plan.  I have no idea if this young man will ever actually pursue aviation, but maybe I helped broaden his horizons.

Anyway, he’s bugging me to go flying again.  Next time, I’m going to make him do an “old school” flight plan.  He’ll have to learn how to plot a course on a real paper map, spin an E6B, figure out waypoints, and all of that.  Me?  I’m going to follow the magenta line to make sure we get back home.

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David Henderson

Dave Henderson earned his Private Pilot License in 1971 at age 17 at Warrenton-Fauquier airport but couldn’t do anything serious in aviation because of near-sightedness – this was long before surgical correction of myopia was a thing.He graduated from BYU, then med school in Richmond, Virginia, then residency at Duke then… finally, OB-GYN practice in Raleigh, North Carolina until retiring and serving in Bogotá and the mountains of Peru for five years.His five kids live from Seattle to Kazakhstan and his grandkids think he's the "fun grandpa."

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• So maybe there was a real purpose in flying that day - July 24, 2024