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Over the years, I’ve noticed two main recurring themes across all my conversations with family and friends when they discover I can fly small airplanes: where do you go and how often do you fly. Even though the former topic is straightforward for me to discuss, I usually let my seven-year-old son do most of the talking; he is surely better than I at explaining the intricacies of our many flying adventures. The latter, however, is much more difficult to explain.
Where do you go and how often do you fly are the questions I hear most often.
What’s not obvious to a lot of non-pilot folk is that flying is one of the few passions you absolutely must do regularly just to safely do it. Think about that for a second: unlike other modes of transportation, you can stop driving for several months, even years, and still be able to get back into a vehicle with little to no training. Flying isn’t like that.
To try to explain this absurdity, I used to give my audience what amounts to an oral checkride by explaining the difference between currency versus proficiency, but that invariably leads to questions about what it even means to be current in the first place which would be right about where their attention span (and mine) starts to rapidly diminish. Instead, what I typically do now is explain that flying is more akin to a sport—I must fly regularly as part of my “training” to perform my best during the “big game” (read: It’s Time to Get High).
Flying is more akin to a sport—I must fly regularly to perform my best during the “big game.”
The sport analogy seems to resonate. Part-time aspiring pilots announce their retirement immediately as they weren’t committed in the first place, and now, with the realization of having to be forever wedded to the sky to do it safely, the thought of flight is suddenly no longer appealing. Understandable and wise.
However, for the more committed, follow-up questions typically revolve around where to find a personal trainer (“CFI”) and how much does it cost (“AMUs”). At that point I explain that, though flying is somewhat of a singe player sport, you can still join a team (“Club”) where you will find friendly personal trainers (“CFIs”) and teammates (“Pilots”) who will happily aid you in your quest to get high. At this point, the conversation either naturally peters out, or moves on to more advanced topics such as why the laws of physics still exist after the engine stops or why I don’t think there is a very good chance of the wings falling off.
One aspect of flying I do make clear, however, is that despite my love affair with it, the flying sport is a burdensome one, constantly demanding not only my time and energy, but also having aspects to it I can neither control nor do I want to. For example, I suspect most athletes own their training equipment, but that isn’t true for most pilots. In fact, owning a plane is an entirely different sport altogether from the sport of actually flying it! And how many athletes don’t fully understand and comprehend the rules of the game they are training for? This is common among pilot folk (including me). In fact, ask a room full of pilots on how to win the game (“Mission”), I guarantee you will hear a variety of both contradictory, yet completely valid responses.
In the end, there are days where I revel in the fact that I can just climb into an airplane and fly it; the sense of freedom and majesty flying provides is unparalleled. And then there are days I dread this flying sport, knowing full well the high opportunity costs I must endure to play it. Nevertheless, I persevere since it is the greatest sport on Earth.
Flying is the greatest sport on Earth.
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I like your ‘sport’ analogy. My last flight as PIC was an F-16 flight when I turned over command of my squadron and that happened in the summer of 1989. When asked if I miss flying and especially flying fighters, I respond with “YES, as a matter of fact, I do!” However, I also add, “Flying fighters is a young person’s ‘sport'”. It requires mental and physical toughness, a thorough preparation, and it can’t be a part-time avocation. I have a good friend who has taken me up in his RV-8 on brief flights here in the Atlanta area, but those are nowhere near what he and I used to fly in the late 70’s when we were flying A-10s in the same fighter wing!
Great analogies and absolutely correct. I just bought a cherokee140/160 after not flying for 20 years and got in and flew it home about 100 miles. No problem ,but I realized how poor I was at every thing. after much practice I now feel confident again. I’m 70 years old and should know better. Don’t do what I did: although it was all under Ideal conditions.
This article could perhaps be summarized by the four level template used by psychologists to explain acquisition of knowledge and achievement of mastery and competency, I.e.
Unconscious incompetence — you don’t know what you don’t know, ignorance;
Conscious incompetence — you become aware of what you need to learn;
Conscious competence — practice, review/evaluate, repeat — immersion until mastery, predictable habitual behavior and knowledge of the environment is achieved;
Unconscious competence — Mastery of most aspects of the subject — routine competent performance based on embedded habits, awareness of circumstances and the boundaries of good practice.
This phenomena is constantly on display among athletes transitioning from amateur to professional (rookie to veteran) and, yes, among pilots undergoing training and retraining. If progress along the continuum is interrupted or neglected, the process must revert to a previous level and start anew.
In pilot training, failure to do so often results in destruction of aircraft and loss of life. Why? The forces of nature (aka the universe) will, without remorse, apology or appeal simply destroy aircraft and occupants where the boundaries of good practice are violated! It’s just the way the world works! End of story.
I purchased poster on Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco on my to Vietnam and kept it framed on my wall for many years until the movers dropped it and it was ruined. It was an old picture of a biplane crashed into the top of a tree and people are standing on the ground looking up at it. The text on the poster states, “Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous. But to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any carelessness, incapacity or neglect.” The author of that quote is Captain Alfred Gilmer Lamplugh and his words have always stuck with me that being careless, incapable, or negligent whilst flying can be detrimental to your well-being. Here is a link to that poster:
http://i3.cpcache.com/product/800053217/wwi_plane_in_a_tree_small_poster.jpg?height=350&width=350
If i go out more than a month, I get rusty. So I make it a habit of trying to fly at least once a month. Even if I never leave the pattern, and only fly for less than an hour, I still fly more than the pilots I know that own their aircraft.
That being said, I do find it unnerving when I read about and or hear about pilots that flaunt the rules and do as they please.
I have a rental property one hour (flight) away from home. My wife will ask, “Why don’t you sell the property?” One reason, I try to explain to her, is it forces me to fly. As I do the rental house maintenance, I fly on average around once a month – more or less depending on the time of year. Some days I do not look forward to going, and others I anticipate that weekend. But it seems always when I return there is a satisfaction. I fill the in between time with sporadic leisurely flights that are not compelled. I can relate to both the angst and pure joy of flying, as mentioned in the article. And I do feel I have learned or reinforced something more with each completed flight. It is my way of keeping myself “proficient”. And yes, as one “wedded to the skies” to keep my vows.