From: Nomen Nescio <nobody@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
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I passed my Private Checkride
This is sort of a flashback post, since I did my checkride in 1973.
My examiners name came up in conversation, yesterday, and I've
been taking a little trip down memory lane, off and on, today.
It was a cool Fall morning in New England as I walked out to the
Cherokee 140 to do the preflight. I had gotten to the air****t an hour
earlier to make sure I had everything I needed to get through the
checkride.The girl at the counter had handed me the Logs, keys, etc.
with a big smile. "This is the big day, huh." "Yea, I hope so" I
answered. "Good luck". ****, was it just me or did she mentally add
"you're gonna need it".
So I grabbed myself a cup of coffee and sat down to go through the
paperwork, weight & balance, and plan my 30 mile flight to meet the
examiner at a small air****t to the east. While I was working on
things, one of the instructors sat down across the table. Not my
instructor, but I knew them all. "This is the big day, huh" he said.
Damn, I thought, is everyone going to remind me of this.
"Let me warn you" he said, "Don't make any comments about her age".
"Why" I said, realizing he was referring to my examiner. "We sent a
guy out for his commercial, last month, and he said something about
her age...... she really wrung him out......he was still soaking wet
with sweat when he got back". "I'll keep that in mind", I said.
"Anyway", he said, "Good luck". Why do I keep hearing a telepathic
"you're going to need it"? I finished up my work, collected my
thoughts, and it was time to go. So, there I was, preflighting the
plane on the way to doing my checkride. Two months earlier, I'd never
even sat in the left seat of a plane. 40.3 flight hours later, I was
fulfilling a dream that I'd had since I was a kid tossing little balsa
gliders around to yard. Looking back now, I still was a kid. Seventeen
years old, shoulder length hair, jeans, faded denim jacket.
I closed and latched the door, belted in (no shoulder belts in those
days), primed the cold engine, switches, throttle, mixture, "CLEAR",
starter. The engine came alive and I suddenly realized the "This is
it", no wimping out now. As the engine warmed up and smoothed out, I
said the same prayer that I said right before I firewalled the
throttle on my first solo, "God, don't let me screw this up". I keyed
the mic (no headset), "Westfield ground, Cherokee 4561 Tango at Omni,
ready to taxi..................................."
The flight was uneventful. Bright sunny day, winds 10 - 15 w/light
turbulence from the warming earth. But then.....where's the air****t.
Damn! It should be a few miles dead ahead. ****! Is that it? Oh, crap.
It looks like someone ran a bulldozer through the woods and then
sprayed some tar on it. Ok, that is it. Better make this a good
landing, the examiner may be watching. I slid into the pattern, set up
the landing, and danced all the way through final. "Dammit, the air's
starting to get a little rough", I thought. So, after a rather
pathetic final approach, I touched down right on the numbers. Yea, I
hope someone saw that. Taxied in, pulled off on the grass, shut down,
grabbed my stuff. And headed into the small building off the taxiway.
I walked into the restaurant (and I use the term loosely), said "Hi"
to a young lady sitting behind the counter "I'm here for a flight
test". "Catherine", she said loudly, "Your next victim is here". Ok,
she is smiling.....maybe this isn't as ominous as it sounds.
Off to my left, in a windowed office, Catherine stood up from her
desk and strolled into the restaurant. She looked like someone's
grandmother. This woman' gotta be 80, I thought (actually she was late
60's/ early 70's ..... she wouldn't tell anyone her age). So there I
am, a 17 yo "hippy" standing in front of a grandmother who holds my
future, as a pilot, in her hands. I was feeling somewhat less than
comfortable, to say the least.
"You're here for your private test?", she asked. "Yes, Ma'am" I
replied. Oh ****, I thought, "I shouldn't have called her Ma'am".
"Ok, I need to see your logbook, student license, written test, and
the plane's logbook". I retrieved all the items and handed them to
her. "Have a seat over there, plan out a flight to ****tland Maine, and
do a weight and balance.....You can call for a weather briefing over
there (points to a phone)". Then she turns around and walks back into
her office.
So I did as she requested, double checked a few things, and knocked
on her door. "I think I'm all set", I told her. "I'll be with you in
just a minute", she answered. She came out and sat down with me a few
minutes later. "Let's see what you've got", she said. I slid the
weight & balance across the table and she studied it for a minute.
"How did you figure my weight", she asked with a frown. Thinking
quickly I said, "I made a rough guess and then added 15 lbs to be on
the safe side." I saw the first sign of a smile. "OK, But you should
ask people their weight". "Oh, ****", I'm thinking, "I'm blowing this
right at the start". "Then add 5 lbs for men and 10 lbs for women",
she said.
"What category are we in"? I had to think about that for a second,
and then said "Utility". "OK, she said. Thinking back, my "warning"
light should have illuminated from that question. But it just didn't
register.
The review of my flight planning was, more or less, uneventful."Why
aren't you using VOR's", she asked. My answer was that there were
"plenty of landmarks". She seemed to like that answer. "Well, let's go
out to your plane".
Unlike today, there was no real "oral exam". Throughout the rest of
the exam, she would throw out questions about rules & regs, airspace,
and radio ops seemingly at random. But the questions weren't all that
difficult.
I did a careful preflight as she looked over my shoulder. I was
thinking out loud as I was checking things, describing everything I
was doing. Catherine was dead silent the whole time. I thought that
was a good sign. "I think I'm ready to go" I said upon completion.
"Let's go flying", she replied.
I got in. She got in and closed the door. We belted in and I
organized my stuff. I did a quick look around as I was about to fire
things up and almost missed it. She hadn't closed the upper door
latch. "Excuse me", I said as I reached across. "I've got to latch the
door". She just sat there without saying a word. "I've got to watch
her", I thought to myself, "she damn well knows how to close a door on
a Cherokee".
I fired up the engine and started to taxi. "So I should just take
off and head to ****tland". "Yes, ****tland" she said. The wind was
still around 10 - 15, but now it was close to a direct crosswind. I
hoped it would ****ft before I had to return and land since the runway,
at 40 ft wide, was a hell of a lot narrower than the 100 - 150 ft that
I was used to. I got to the end of the taxiway, did the runup, cleared
the area, and started to pull onto the runway. "Lets make this a short
field takeoff", she said. "Oh, great", I thought, as I put in 2
notches of flaps. Throttle forward, hold the centerline, rotate,
"damn, I'm starting to drift" I thought, "Ok, I'm off the ground",
crab into the wind, "Good, I kept it over the runway, at least", get
some altitude, lose the flaps, "OK, I'm flying". My examiner didn't
say a word. Not sure if that's a good sign or not. At least she didn't
frantically grab at the yoke. So I left the pattern and swung on
course for ****tland. "Are you still in school?", she asked. "Yup,
senior year". "Now she wants to make small talk", I'm thinking.
'What are your plans after you graduate"? "Not sure, I hope to find a
college that wants me". "Do you want to make a career out of flying"?
"Sort of.....I've kinda got a dream of getting into space, someday".
"So do I", she said. "I want you to divert to Gardner", she said,
interrupting our conversation. Ok, I still knew where we were despite
getting involved in some chit chat. So I swung around to the left,
estimated the course by looking at a VOR on the chart, fine tuned it
with a few landmarks, and headed for the new destination, about 15
miles away. "Should I do a landing"? "We'll be doing a touch & go,
and make it a soft field landing". I got down to the proper altitude,
entered the pattern, swung onto final (damn crosswind) and proceeded
to perform another pathetic approach. Just missed the numbers, but
came down fairly hard for a "soft field" landing. I kept the nosewheel
up until the elevator couldn't hold it anymore. Dumped the flaps, hit
the throttle, and we were back in the air again. I did NOT feel very
good about the landing and was sort of expecting "Sorry kid, you blew
it". Catherine looked unfazed by the whole ordeal. "What now?", I
asked. "We're going to head back to the air****t". Uh Oh. I set up the
course to take her back. I had to ask.... "I guess that landing
wasn't too good"? "They can always be better", she said "You're doing
fine. Relax, Honey, I don't bite". "That's not what I've heard", I
thought to myself. "Level out at 2000" she said, "We're going to do
some ground reference turns".
The turns went well. A few S turns over a road. A couple left and
right circles around a barn. Then a couple of left and right 720's
with a 45 deg bank. The right one I gained 50 ft alt. But the
left.....the left 720 was beautiful. Held altitude dead on. Held bank
right at 45. Rolled out dead on course. "It's about time I got
something right", I thought. I was starting to relax a little bit.
Then we gained a little altitude and she took the controls while I put
on "The Hood".
I did 2 standard rate, 180 deg turns. Left and right. Then she
wanted a couple 720's. 720 deg turns, under the hood, have always been
my downfall. About halfway through the second turn, my head always
starts to spin a little. This time was no different. The first turn
was to the left and by the second rotation is was struggling to hold
altitude within 100 ft. Then I rolled into the right turn. My head was
spinning. I'm starting to feel a little sick. Focusing on the
instruments was getting tougher. By the I rolled out of the 45 deg
bank, my head was going in circles. Then, immediately, she said "My
Airplane, close your eyes and put your head down". I complied and felt
the Gs push me down in the seat. Then I'm weightless. Then the Gs
again. She's rolling left. She's rolling right. We're going up. We're
going down. "****, did she just do a snap roll". After about 45
seconds, I'm totally disoriented and hoping I don't puke. Finally she
says, "Your airplane, recover to straight and level". I opened my
eyes and look at the artificial horizon. And there is NO horizon.
This plane is going straight up, I thought. Airspeed heading to 0.
Yea, were going straight up. I pushed the nose down and after what
seemed like an eternity, I've got a horizon. No airspeed, but I've got
a horizon.. I dropped the nose further down and started seeing the
airspeed creeping up. Leveled the wings and we were flying again. She
gave me a VOR to dial in but I couldn't even read the frequency off
the chart. I hated to ask but, "Can you give me a minute to get my
bearings back". "Sure", she said, "give me a 300 fpm climb while
you're doing that". After 1 minute my head stopped spinning and I
dialed in and tracked the VOR. Almost forgot to check the ID code,
though. "I've got the plane", she said, "you can take the hood off".
Damn, I hope I didn't blow it by asking for a minute to let my head
settle down. I knew I shouldn't have called her "Ma'am" back at the
air****t.
"Are you ready for some stalls", she asked. "Sure". "We'll make this
easy, just give me a straight ahead, wings level stall". I told her
that I though I should do a couple of clearing turns, she agreed. Then
I chopped the throttle, held the nose up 'till I felt some buffeting,
lowered the nose and applied power. I thought it was pretty good. My
examiner thought otherwise. "Try it again and give me a real stall".
"OK", I'm thinking, "You want a REAL stall". So I cut the power,
pulled the nose way up, and held it......and held it. We did a good
****mmy and shake, and I held it. Wing dropped and I corrected rudder,
and held it. Finally, the nose dropped with full elevator and I held
full elevator just a little longer. Normal recovery and we're flying
again. "That was much better", she said. Now that I knew what she was
looking for, a departure, and accelerated, stall went well.
"Did you do any spins with your instructor", She asked. "Um, uh,
Yea", I said. "He showed me one and then I did three more". "Would you
like to do one?" Now, I'll remind you that this was 1973. Spins were
not required for a Private License, but there were still a lot of old
school instructors around that felt that every student should have at
least experienced a spin. Spins were not considered to be the deadly
demon of death that they seem to be ****trayed as today. "So that's why
she was asking about Utility category", I thought. "Wait, could this
be a trick question", I heard the voice of caution in my head say. I
looked over at her and could see no sign of deceit in her eyes. I
hedged my reply, anyway. "Sure, if YOU'D like to".
I cleared the area, again, pulled into a good, nose high, stall,
kicked the left rudder, and the 140 mushed over into a spin. Let off
pressure on the yoke, kicked in right rudder, and we were out of the
spin in less than one rotation. Pretty damn good, if I do say so
myself. Or maybe not! "Be more gentle with the rudder", she said.
"you're guiding the plane through the spin, not beating it up"..."Let
me show you".
We gained some altitude and Catherine took the controls. Pulled the
nose up, and then...............This was the first time I'd had a
chance to actually see her flying the plane. At that moment, I saw
something that I had never seen before.....I saw a human being that
was one with the plane. I was somewhat awestruck. When she pressed the
rudder, we broke into the spin like a hammer through a pane of glass.
Smooth, fluid, motion of the controls. I don't remember much about the
spin, but I watched every move she made. "Wow, This old lady knows
how to fly".
The next thing I knew, we were back to straight and level. "How did
you get it to go over like that", I asked. "I told you......You just
ask it nicely....don't try to beat the plane into doing what you
want". "Your airplane".
I grabbed the yoke and she chopped the throttle. It was time for an
"emergency landing". We were over farmland, so it was easy to pick out
a field. Set up a glide, lined up the approach, coming in lower than I
wanted, ok, I'll clear that fence by a good 50 ft.
"Take me back to the air****t", she said, as we descended to about
200 ft agl. I pushed the throttle forward, and raised the flaps to
climb. Uh, oh. "Where the hell are we?", I thought.
There's the reservoir, there's the highway, ok, where's the pond
that's under us. I grabbed the chart.....Got it. I swung around on
course to head back and I was on final in a few, short, minutes.
"I gotta make this a good landing", I'm saying to myself as I lower
the last notch of flaps. It's a much better approach this time.
Smooth, nice slip in the moderate crosswind. Ease it back. I'm down! A
little long, but right on the centerline. Maybe I'll pass this test,
yet.
Taxied back, parked, shutdown. "Come in and have a cup of coffee
while I take care of the paperwork", she said. "Yea", I'm thinking,
"AND........". She didn't say a word as we climbed out of the plane.
We walked toward the restaurant in silence. Oh, ****. This isn't a
good sign.
I finally had to ask before we went in the door. "Um.....so......How
did I do"? She never looked back at me as she walked in the
door....... "You passed".
I saw the reflection of a slightly sly smile in the glass. Damn, she
did that to torment me.
It seems like I had just started sipping on a (really bad) cup of
coffee when Catherine came out of her office and handed me my logbook,
medical, some other stuff, and....My tem****ary License. It didn't
really sink in until then. I was a Pilot. I was a f**kin' Pilot.
She sat down next to me. "Who gets to be your first passenger"?.
"I'm not sure", I answered. (My first passenger was a girl a was
dating, off and on, at the time. Eight years later she became my wife.
But that's another long story). Catherine and I sat and talked for an
hour.We talked about, me, her, her air****t (yes it was HER air****t),
flying, planes, student pilots, instructors, just pilot talk.
It was time for me to get the plane back for another rental. I
thanked her, shook her hand. As I was turning to leave, I said "I hope
my flying didn't scare you too much". She reached out and grabbed my
arm to stop me. "I've checked out hundreds of pilots", she said, "and
I haven't seen two dozen flyers in the bunch......You, Kid-o, you're a
flyer". I thanked her again, walked out to the plane, and flew back to
Barnes Air****t. I did it, I was a pilot.
I never saw Catherine Hiller again. She passed away in 1985. I wish I
had found the time to fly in for a bad cup of coffee and to say
"hello", but school, work.....well, no, actually, I just didn't.
Catherine was a local legend.
Pilot
Instructor
Examiner
Air****t owner
And one Hell of a Flyer
I can't vouch for the truth of it, but I've heard from several people
that when Catherine became a pilot, her license number was two digits.
Several times in 35 years, I've been in the air when things were
getting a little tough and I've heard those words...."You, Kid-o,
you're a flyer"
Thank's Catherine, I AM a flyer.
And maybe someday, I'll be half as good as you.
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[Followup-To: rec.aviation.piloting]
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