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Our local EAA chapter was hosting Aviation Day at our airport in Tennessee. As a member, I agreed to be assigned a task.
Some got setup, some got parking. But since I was a commercial glider pilot, I was asked to host the glider simulator.
It sounded good to me. The public would pretend to be glider pilots, and I would pretend to be an instructor—a certificate I was working toward. Complete strangers would stand in line to hear me talk about, say, the four forces of flight. Or maybe I’d share my thoughts about angle of attack. Then I’d introduce them to the simulator, talk them through a perfect landing, and invite them to the glider field for an intro flight.
That’s not what happened.
On the day of the event, there was an entire row of flight simulators set up in the hangar. The glider simulator was in the back and included a dedicated chair that sloped backward like a real glider. The stick was in the correct position, and the chair had working rudder pedals.
Once correctly situated in the chair, the wannabe pilot faced a screen running a glider simulator called Condor 3. I figured I’d better try it out myself. Getting into the chair wasn’t easy for an old guy. I balanced on one foot, stepped in, twisted around, and lowered myself into position.
I booted up the simulator and tried flying the glider on tow. Just like real life, it was difficult to follow the towplane without some practice. I decided I’d have my customers skip the tow. Instead, I’d set up the simulator to spawn new glider flights at 3,000 feet AGL.
Now, what to do about the simulator chair? Once I’d worked my way back out (not easy), I wondered how to avoid injuring any balance-challenged adults.
My first surprise: there were no adults. It was only kids who were interested in the simulator. Some of them were upset when I told them gliders didn’t have an engine. They were hoping for what was being flown in the simulators with the longer lines—a fighter jet. Or at least some giant plane with huge, heavy wings and lots of windows for passengers. But preferably—a fighter jet.
But what did it matter, really? As I was about to find out, they were all planning to fly the glider like a fighter jet anyway.
One of my first customers, a kid I’ll call Joey, was my youngest so far but also the most troubling. Maybe ten years old, he acted more like thirty-five, with a sneering confidence and an air of having already seen it all. In my cynical imagination, I figured I’d be hearing about Joey again—maybe later that month—when he’d make headlines for stealing the family car and driving it to Taco Bell propped up on sofa cushions.
Joey made it clear he didn’t want instruction. When I got anywhere near the controls, he’d swat me away. Meanwhile, he was fully focused on getting the glider up to jet speed—by pointing the nose down—and finding out for himself what would happen next.
What happened next was that Joey pulled out of his dive with too much speed. The glider’s wings broke off and went in all directions. The fuselage hit the ground and rolled upside down. There were sound effects too: a loud, crunching bang that signaled maximum carnage.
I glanced at Joey, thinking he might be upset. He was staring at the screen with a wide grin. He emitted a dark chuckle.
The wannabe instructor in me was aghast. I’d use it as a teaching moment. I’d bring Joey down to earth (again) with some straight talk about load factor and the stresses of flight.
“That’s what happens when you fly too fast,” I said. “The wings will break off right in the air.”
Finally, I had Joey’s attention. “I want to do it again,” he said.
Reluctantly, I reset the flight and Joey was off again at 3,000 feet. He gripped the stick and pushed the nose down. He couldn’t be talked out of his power dive. The glider began to vibrate violently. The wings came off in midair and the fuselage impacted the ground.
More dark chuckling from Joey. Meanwhile, his second dramatic glider crash roused the attention of the room. Some of the kids, having grown impatient waiting in line for a fighter jet, were now joining the line for the glider simulator.
I glanced at Joey, thinking he might be upset. He was staring at the screen with a wide grin. He emitted a dark chuckle.
They crowded around and began to push. They wanted a turn in that reclining glider chair.
I was beginning to understand my role. I was less an instructor, more an off-duty cop hired to stand around the arcade and stop brawls from breaking out.
To these kids, the simulator was nothing but a video game. Where they saw a toy, though, I saw something else.
Call me old-fashioned, but I respected simulators. I’d been using Microsoft Flight Simulator for years. Whenever I crashed a plane, I was horrified. I knew better than to notify the NTSB, but I’d still have to take a break from simulation for a while. Sometimes for weeks.
Today, however, I had a new challenge—how to manage this bunch of eager kids. Clearly, as a representative of Aviation Day, I needed to loosen up.
So loosen up, I told myself. You know how kids operate. You were once a kid yourself. Pull yourself together.
More than that, I had four kids of my own. They’re all grown now (time flies, even if Joey doesn’t), but they grew up playing video games.
I was of the parenting generation that viewed video games with maximum suspicion. We were the first to grapple with the Grand Theft Auto franchise, constantly lecturing our children to stop stealing cars lest they become car thieves themselves.
Standing next to the glider simulator, I thought about it rationally. I’d been very firm with my children: quit stealing cars. But I was no fool either. I knew that behind my back, they were spending entire days stealing cars. And none of them became criminals.
Ergo, it was nuts to think that if I allowed these kids to have fun crashing a simulated glider, I’d be ushering in a new wave of aviation accidents.
What is simulation anyway? A change of mindset, really. Some of us, immersed in flight simulation, easily make the leap from gamers to flight students. That cockpit we see on our computer screens is no longer a game, but a tool. We use it to create a realistic imitation of actual flight, a way to practice maneuvers and procedures without real-world consequences.
Meanwhile, back at Aviation Day, another pint-sized maniac was diving a glider into the earth. I winced. Maybe I wasn’t the right barker for this carnival ride.
Later, after I’d worked my way through the line of kids, a retired airline pilot sat down and took the controls. Finally, an adult. He told me he’d never flown a glider but was interested in learning more. He said he was thinking about coming out to the glider club for a real flight.
Sitting next to him, I coached him through some stalls. He mastered those and tried some steep turns. He didn’t even hint that he wanted to attempt an in-flight breakup or dive into a field.
Here we were—just two old guys treating a simulator like a simulator. My sense of order and balance had been restored.
- The Day Everyone Crashed a Glider - November 10, 2025
- Why I Returned to Stick and Rudder - July 7, 2025
- In Defense of the Paper Nav Log - March 10, 2025
Thanks for making this veteran smile on Veteran’s Day! Back in the 80’s,I was at the National Air & Space Museum (the one in downtown DC before the one at Dulles opened) when they had a flight simulator where you could try to make a carrier landing. Standing in line, they gave each person one attempt and pretty much every ‘Naviator’ wannabe preceding me put it in the water, took a ramp strike, or got a ‘bolter’. When my turn came, I set the power and held the pitch steady through touchdown on the deck and I caught the 3-wire! The guy who was doing the same duty you performed with the glider sim looked at me and asked if I was a Navy pilot. I answered, “Air Force, but I sat through one trap aboard the USS Hancock and made more than a few landings of my own on runways that weren’t moving to know how to fly through a controlled crash!” He laughed.
Good story, thanks for the comment!
I introduced my grandchildren to a flight simulator in my hangar and have the same reaction. All they wanted to do was plunged into the ground. What the heck? I kept pausing. It wouldn’t let him crash. It and my daughter told me I was being a spoiled sport. What’s wrong with kids these days?
Evan,
Your writings about transitioning from a video game to becoming a glider pilot is almost how it happened for me.
I was flying Microsoft Flight Simulator 10 when I first thought of flying a glider. A couple months of playing that, I found Condor, and furthered my “training”. One day in August 2019, I told my wife that I wanted to take a real glider riide. With a little hesitation she agreed. After browsing the web a bit, I settled on Warner Springs. I arrived early and had time to watch gliders launching and seeing the ground crew members getting the next glider to launch.
After a bit, I was introduced to my instructor, Jeff. We walked through the preflight steps and a description of the 2-33 we would be flying. I was getting a bit excited, really looking forward to getting into the air.
Preflight completed, the glider was moved into a line of waiting gliders for their tow. I watch as others took off and followed the tow plane, a Pawnee in perfect formation.
My launch was next, so Jeff had me climb into the front seat, explained the gauges and controls of the 2-33. I was ready. We were rolled into position by the ground crew and got hooked up. Strapped in, my hands in my lap so I wouldn’t inadvertently touch any of the controls, we began our roll. Pretty uneventful as Jeff described each step and we started to climb out, following the tow plane. I watched through the canopy as we started to climb. Jeff called out the altitude, 100 feet, 200 feet,
SNAp!!!!! Great, my first glider flight and I was about to die. Or so I thought. Jeff asked me what I had done as he banked the 2-33 into a 45 degree left turn and we headed back to the field. We had reached about 260 feet AGL before the rope broke. Jeff calmly maneuvered and we landed very smoothly in the sand. Again, he asked me what I had touched, and I repeated, NOTHING!
Ground crew members arrived fairly quickly and were talking with Jeff after he exited the glider. Walking around, they found several feet of the tow rope still connected to the glider. See, I didn’t touch anything.
He explained what had happened and said it was his first rope break since practicing rope breaks in a glider so many times. We were towed back to the lineup and Jeff asked if I wanted to go again, at no extra charge.
Perfect, he and I had just experienced OUR first rope break. Of course, I wanted to go again. And we did.
The tow rope was replaced and we were soon climbing once again behind our tow. 100 feet, 200 feet, 300 feet, and so it went. Jeff explained how to follow the tow plane and why we did it that way. Before too long, we reached our scheduled altitude and released from the tow. Jeff demonstrated a few maneuvers, a slow banked turn, a faster banked turn (I enjoyed looking almost straight down at the ground spinning around as we turned at a 45 degree bank). He showed me a stall (kind of thrilling) and a few other maneuvers as we slowly climbed higher in the valley until we reached about 3500 feet AGL All the while he was telling me how and why we were climbing. Then he asked me if I wanted to take the controls. Thrilled, I accepted his offer. After a couple slow turns, we found some lift, and he followed me on his stick as we banked and began rising. At about 5,000 feet AGL, he said I had the glider. Oh my…I was flying the glider. Round and round we went, with Jeff suggesting minor changes. This was great. We finally reached 6500 feet and Jeff mentioned we should be heading back. I guess he noticed my thrill to have flown and being called a “natural”. Then he asked if I wanted to go to 7,000 feet. Did I? He talked me through a few more turns and before long, we reached 7,000. Wow, I was thrilled. He pointed out a few landmarks as we flew, like Mount Palomar.
Jeff took the controls once again as we neared the airfield, called out “Downwind, Base and Final”. As we touched down and rolled out, I knew I had to get my own license.
We talked about the entire days events and I headed home after thanking hiim and a few of the other ground helpers.
After playing with Condor 2 a bit longer, I began reading about the other glider clubs and commercial training airports, like Crystal Aire and Lake Elsinore, and Cypress Soaring. I read all of the information I could on each of them, finally deciding that I liked the idea of a club operation. I went to a club meeting and enjoyed meeting all of the members present.
I joined the club at their Annual meeting.
Now, I’ve been flying for 6 years, have my private ppilot ticket, and am surprised that a video game got me started.
We have a great group of instructors at the club, and I trained with all of them, which I recommend for anyone taking up glider training. Since joining the club, I’ve actually experienced two more rope breaks and an early termination of tow because the tow pilot lost sight of us. I truly enjoy flying gliders and have progressed from flying a Krosno, a 1-34, a Grob 103, and a PW-6 (my favorite). I will continue to fly as long as I can. (I’m currently 73 years old) and still thrilled each time I launch. Even my wife is happy for me and asked me about my flights every time I get home.
So, if you ever think about flying, take an introductory flight or two.
I will also keep flying in the Condor 3 flight simulator, even when I rip the wings off for going too fast.
I had a very similar experience with my young CAP Cadets. I hung in “instructing” until the math of more of them than me and fours sim’s just became games. I came to the same conclusion you did – at least they were playing with airplanes. Kinda.
Great story. I can remember prepping for my CFII checkride, in a motel room, flying the local airport’s instrument approaches, on an 8086 processor laptop, with a monochromatic version of MSFS 3.0 running. Passed :).
For a number of years before the SSA came to their senses and formally returned to EAA AirVenture in Oshkosh to promote the sport of Soaring, Ann Mongiovi (St. Louis Soaring) arranged to have a number of SSA members volunteer at EAA’s KidVenture venue. We set up first one, then in later years 4 simulation stations where kids ages 5-18 could see what it was like to fly a glider.
To Evan’s point, a kid would sit down at the sim and almost invariably ask “Can I crash it?” My answer was “Yes you can.” Their eyes lit up at my response but their enthusiasm quickly faded as I continued. “In the real world, do you know what happens if you crash an aircraft?” They would nod. I continued “So if you crash this glider, you are done for the day. You will get up from your seat and someone else will take your place. Do you still want to crash the glider?” The answer was always in the negative.
Because there were so many kids, we developed a 15 minute routine where we would introduce airspeed control (pitch attitude to the horizon) and shallow bank turns while maintaining airspeed relative to the horizon. That took about 5 minutes, the maximum disciplined attention span of a kid that age at which point it was time to reward their discipline with some fun. I would praise their progress to this point and then ask my protege if they knew what a loop was while visually describing it with hand gestures. I then asked if they would like to learn to do a loop. You can imagine their response.
A loop is basically a wing’s level airspeed control maneuver. I would turn on the wingtip smoke in Condor (more on that in a bit) and talk them through performing loop, at which point I would pause the simulation, switch to an outside view and ejoy the huge smile on their faces as they viewed the circular smoke trails they had just created. I would then have them do a few more loops with progressively less coaching. Next I asked if they would like to learn to fly upside down. ‘Never got a “no thanks” on that either.
At the end of 15 minutes, I had them doing loops, rolls to inverted and back to level, and full rolls. I would congratulate them on their accomplishments and conclude with “So, today as you are watching the afternoon airshow, and an aircraft does a loop, you can poke your parent and say “I know how to do that”, and when they roll their aircraft upside down or all the way around, you can say “I can do that too”. And finally, I would “solo” the young person. I would let them know they were now free to continue flying the sim for a few more minutes, would get up and walk away, usually over their waiting parent who I would invite to go over and watch as their offspring, who 15-minutes prior, had no idea how to fly an aircraft, was now performing their own airshow.
After walking away, I would occasionally hear the telltale sounds of a glider crash as one of our newly minted airshow pilots would mismanage one of their maneuvers. I would look over an see the terrified look of a youngster looking back at me, believing they had just ended their flight experience. I would walk back and quietly ask, “Did you do that on purpose.” They would assure me they had not. Without further comment, I would reset the simulation and again walk away.
Over the span of 7 days, 6-hours a day, four sessions per hour on four simulation workstations, my colleagues and I would introduce more than 500 kids to the joy of soaring. Some legitimate flight training, some fun, no intentional crashing.
Thanks for the great comments and stories!
And Scott, you’re clearly the one they should have asked first to run the glider simulator, lol.
Evan, the fact you were willing to help promote soaring at your aviation event means your were the right guy for the job. Now that you have a strategy for dealing with kids, you are even more qualified.
I really enjoyed your account of the kids in the simulator. One of the prime differences between kids and adults is that children just want to have fun, and “fun” to them may appear quite gruesome to adults. The great thing that you did was to let them experiment on their own to the point where they had some success. My best instructors let me make mistakes (Hopefully, not those which caused the wings to come off!) rather than have a “perfect” flight, and, making those mistakes I began to integrate my mind with the performance of the glider so that the correct responses became instinctive. Maybe one of those kids was inspired that day to make flying a lifetime pursuit, or even a career.