Solo! (Part 4)

This is the final installment of the story of soloing, originally published in Eagles Tales, a collection of essays by my colleagues in the Aeronautical Science Department of Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University. Eagle Tales is available for sale at 20 percent off with the coupon code ET2011 on checkout through the BluewaterPress website. A portion of each sale goes toward the Jim Lewis Memorial Scholarship fund in the Aeronautical Science Department.

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It almost seemed normal, to be flying alone.  I arrived abeam the landing area and pulled on the carburetor heat, throttled the engine to idle, and allowed the airplane to slow to 55.  It was the same as all the times before when Charlie was sitting in the airplane.  There was no difference!  It was just another landing.

I looked down, flew a little beyond the cypress dome at the end of the runway, and turned base.  Using the stick, I kept the airspeed pegged on 55 as I watched the runway.  I was going to play the turn to final just right–I wanted the airplane to end up on the final approach course right on the extended centerline.

As I turned final, I could see Charlie at the far end of the runway and I looked at the sky.  I thought of the significance of the moment one more time and thought of what I had to do to finish with a safe landing.

The end of the runway came up and I could see the fence line.  As the fence passed underneath the wheels of the Cub, I eased the stick back and began the flare.  As the airplane slowed down, I kept it from landing by adding more and more backpressure.  At first, she wanted to climb, undoubtedly the difference between flying the airplane with Charlie in it as opposed to alone.  I kept the airplane tracking down the runway and as the stick reached the full back position, I felt the wing sigh and enter the stall.  Suddenly, the weight of the airplane left the wing and transferred to the wheels and we were rolling.

My solo was over.

I was thrilled!  I was laughing, I was grinning, and I was happy!  Even though many of my peers had soloed in nine hours or less, I was happy with nine and?a?half.  At least I was not one of those horror stories I had heard of in which students never seemed to get ready!  It was going to be later in my life after I was a flight instructor myself, that I was to realize this was no race; a student pilot soloed when he or she was ready.  Not a moment before.  Not a moment later.  There was no race, no winners, and certainly no losers in this thing called learning to fly.

The airplane slowed to a taxi and I looked up ahead at Charlie.  He had already turned his back and was walking toward the hangar/shed/office/bar.  He was done with me for the day and it was late.  Time for a drink of his Kentucky bourbon.  I saw him wave me in.

As I taxied toward the shed, I still could not get over the fact that I was up in an airplane all by myself!  Yesterday was my mother’s birthday.  I felt as though she was not going to be pleased with this birthday present.  Later, I would always remember my mother’s birthday as the day before my solo, rather than my solo being the day after her birthday.

I taxied up to the shed where Charlie was standing.  He was the only one around.  The others had left.  The little Continental ticked over evenly at 500 rpm and after I stopped the airplane, I sat for a moment.  Then I raised my hand and cut the mag switch to off.  The engine whirled to a stop and the cylinders began making tinkling and crackling noises as the engine cooled down.  It was very quiet and Charlie said something about congratulations and it was time for his drink now that he was done flying and oh yea, let’s take care of your log.

The old man took my flight log and carefully scribed the words, “First supervised solo–OK.”  Then he logged 25 minutes of dual time and 5 minutes of solo time.

I looked at the log entry and for the first time, felt as though I was really on my way to becoming a pilot.  As with all pilots, this was a big event in my life, one I was sure I would remember for the rest of my life.  And I could tell that for Charlie, it was just another student solo.  I wondered how many times with other students he had made the same entry into their logs.

On the drive home, the sun finished setting.  It was glorious and beautiful.  Then it got dark.  Often, I think about that flight.

Now, after all these years, I also have other thoughts about my solo and of other student’s solo flights.  That thought is pretty predictable–one voiced many times by others.  It is not truly accurate in the flying business– really, not everyone can fly.  But I have to think there is a ring of truth to that old cliché . . .  

If I can do this, anyone can!

-30-

© 2010 J. Clark

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