Bumps In The Road

I'm fully aware that anyone who reads this collection of useless ramblings has probably lost significant amounts of sleep over the past few nights wondering if I've completed my first solo flight. You should know that one of the following things has happened: 1) due to insufficient funding, my flight school has permanently closed its doors, leaving its students homeless and uneducated 2) after I crash-landed 55 feet short of the runway, the Cessna was totaled and I'm now a fugitive of the law 3) the combination of thunderstorms and the Chief Pilot taking an unexpected vacation have prevented any of us from completing our solo flights. I'll let you decide what really happened.

Another week down, another week closer to the end goal. As it turns out, flight school is a well-oiled machine, pumping students through the program at unfathomable rates. I'm amazed at how quickly the days pass. Each week brings new challenges and hurdles to clear, and when the dust settles, I'm still alive, still hanging on, still surviving. Yesterday's flight lesson was the ultimate test of my resolve. Nothing about felt right, from the minute I woke up all the way through shutting down the engine. Simply getting to the aircraft produced more casualties than the Oregon Trail. I choked while eating my Corn-Pops. I tripped over a rope on the tarmac. The left flap attacked my forehead during preflight inspection. Even my boxers malfunctioned. Sometimes you just know when it's not your day. Throw in some nasty crosswinds and a multitude of mental distractions, and it's a miracle I survived the two hour ordeal. Out of twelve landings, two were of normal quality, the other ten will ultimately serve as instructional video material on how not to perform a crosswind landing. After emerging from the cockpit, I was spent. I've seen roadkill with better dispositions. They say flying is like golf; you're never as good as your best shots, never as bad as your worst. I say break out the Richter Scale anytime I'm coming in for landing.

The machine doesn't stop simply because it's Saturday, and today is shaping up to be an important day. In a few hours, I'll be taking my FAA written exam, which is the first component of my $400 private pilot checkride. Sixty questions on aerodynamics, calculating center of gravity, estimated fuel consumption, determining (gulp) crosswind variation, aeromedical factors, and VFR navigation. Luckily, a mere 70% is considered passing; but that was also the case in my Anatomy & Physiology class, and I definitely remember how that turned out. Later tonight, the CFI and I are flying up to Oklahoma as we begin learning night flying procedures. We'll circle around downtown Dallas, practice landings up near Gainesville, and get back to Arlington sometime after 1AM. The CFI says if I'm lucky, we'll contact air traffic control at DFW International and attempt to land where the big boy jets get to play! I'm packing the camera so check back in a few days for photos and a video or two, as well as an update on the FAA written, and hopefully a 'real' story about my solo.

We're off tomorrow, freeing me to focus more attentively on selecting my 2009 Fantasy Football team name. In our league, the only criteria is that the name must somehow relate to Seinfeld. Creating a team name is one of the most crucial aspects of fantasy sports; a bad name can derail a season and make you the laughingstock of your league. Last year I was the Pudding Skin Singles, based on George Costanza's health food purification system. This year? I shouldn't even have to say it, but we'll see what happens...

Total PB&J Sandwhiches Consumed (to date): 24