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Originally published on the rec.aviation.piloting newsgroup:

November 25, 2007

The rental 150 was a bit late getting back, and the sun was getting 

low in the late fall sky.  So, we sat around the FBO, basking in the 

glow of Joe's newly minted Private ticket.  One by one, folks stopped 

to slap Joe on the back, or give him the thumb's up.   In one fell 

swoop, he had gone from "wannabe" to the "real deal" -- and everyone 

knew it. 

At last the Cezzna rolled onto the ramp, late, and we headed out into 

the cold.  One nice thing about flying rental birds on weekends is 

that they are already WARM -- so we experienced none of the usual "pre- 

flight shivers" that we always get in our plane. 

Well, I should say, *I* didn't shiver -- Joe (for a change!) had to 

perform the frigid pre-flight. 

I, on the other hand, was busy swedging myself into the tiny 150's 

right seat -- something I'd only done once before in my life.  As with 

my previous flight, I marveled at the TINY proportions of the little 

Cezzna -- at 6 foot tall, there was simply no room for *me* in there. 

Nevertheless, I managed to get my butt shoe-horned into my seat by the 

time Joe had finished pre-flighting, and we were soon trundling out to 

Rwy 25.  After a quick-but-thorough run-up, Joe took the runway and 

smoothly advanced the throttle until we were rolling down the runway. 

With quicker-than-expected speed (in the cold air) we were off the 

ground and climbing at a surprisingly steep deck angle.  I looked over 

at my son and watched as he calmly monitored airspeed and heading, 

adjusting the trim wheel and making sure that we were on runway 

heading. 

After a few moments I looked over and noticed two things: (1) Our 

airspeed was amazingly slow, at 70 mph, and (2) although our deck 

angle was steep, we were only climbing out at 500 feet per minute. 

That little engine up front was furiously churning up the air, but we 

sure weren't getting anywhere fast! 

Our flight to "nearby" Muscatine was interesting.  Flying fully 55 

knots slower than I'm used to, navigating solely by ded reckoning, the 

scenery floated beneath us at a leisurely pace.  After climbing for 

what seemed like a long time, Joe leveled off at just 2000 feet -- 

only 300 feet above pattern altitude!  The differences between flying 

Atlas, with his beefy 235 horsepower Lycosaur engine, and flying this 

dainty, over-loaded, almost kite-like trainer were remarkable. 

Approaching from the Northwest, it seemed like we were too far east, 

but Joe knew better.  Slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) the Muscatine power 

plant's smoke stacks emerged out of the ground haze, and Joe set up 

for a mid-field over the top entry to Rwy 24. 

Turning downwind impossibly close-in, he then proceeded to turn his 

base leg equally close.   At a somewhat alarming bank angle (typical 

for a new pilot -- I did the same thing to Mary on her first flight, 

many moons ago) he expertly rolled out onto final with the runway 

smack centered in the wind screen.  Despite a sporting crosswind, he 

smoothly touched down at an impossibly slow ground speed. 

We were planning to stop for a piece of pie, but the sun was getting 

low.  The flight that routinely took us 20 minutes had taken 35, so 

pie was out, and we just rolled down the taxiway back to Rwy 24, and 

departed. 

This time we flew low and slow down a section of the Mississippi 

River.  I marveled at the wonderful view from the high-wing plane as 

we hovered, seemingly motionless over the Big Muddy, at just 700 AGL. 

After a few words about migratory birds and the rapidly setting sun, 

Joe reluctantly pointed the Mighty Commuter northwards. 

Even though I'd made this flight hundreds of times, with the sun low 

on the ground haze it was very difficult to identify landmarks -- but 

Joe had done this before.  He simply flew North to a nearby familiar 

town, and then "hung a left" to follow Hwy 6 all the way to Iowa 

City.   This was a type of flying I hadn't done in years, and it was 

great fun! 

The approach and landing at Iowa City was uneventful, and we were soon 

parking on Iowa City's brand-new ramp.  As the prop shuddered to a 

stop, I looked over at my son's hands flying over the panel, turning 

off the master and removing the key, filling out the FBO's required 

paperwork, and marveled at the changes I had seen in him over the last 

six months. 

Just last May we had had a "heart-to-heart" talk about flying, trying 

to determine whether he was *really* interested in taking flight 

lessons, or whether he was just talking about it because he felt 

pressured by his situation as the son of two pilots.  Since he had 

been raised totally immersed in aviation, and had no memories of NOT 

flying in GA planes, even he had a hard time discerning whether his 

interest was genuine, or whether it was simply something he was 

expected to do. 

From our end, we didn't want to see Joe start down the road toward his 

Private, only to run out of enthusiasm and quit short of finishing 

after spending thousands of hard-earned dollars.  We told him in no 

uncertain terms how hard it was going to be, between attending school, 

working at the hotel, and participating in sports -- and painted a 

dire picture of just how difficult the next six months of his life 

would be. 

Despite this, (or, perhaps, because of this?) he vowed to complete the 

training -- and here I was, just six months later, sitting next to him 

as he shut down the Mighty 150.  To say I felt proud and joyful simply 

didn't cut it -- I was ecstatic, joyous, and profoundly choked up. 

The time has flown by with alarming speed.  Just last week I was 

reading to Joe as he sat on my lap.  Six days ago I was teaching Joe 

how to throw a baseball and keep his balance on a 2-wheeler.  Five 

days ago I was teaching him how to use a PC, and four days ago I was 

demonstrating proper technique for lifting weights.  Only three days 

ago I was dropping him off at Boy Scout camp, and just yesterday he 

was attending Civil Air Patrol meetings at my side.  He's grown into a 

fine young man. 

And now, he's a pilot! 

:-)