Checklists At 4,500

Successful flight, as experienced career pilots would attest, is predicated heavily on the performing (and remembering) of checklists. Seemingly, there is a checklist for everything imaginable scenario: engine start up, before takeoff, emergency landing, making a sandwich, etc. Truthfully, the ingratiation of such checklists requires diligence in study, and, for myself, the unorthodox blending of two passions: aviation, obviously, and sports. Recently, it occurred to me that such checklists need to have historical sports figures attached to them in order to maximize retention levels. Now, before reading ahead, you must be reminded of several things: 1) in aviation, there exists a never-ending tsunami of acronyms that one must recall instantaneously; and 2) my memory has been conditioned over 26 years to recall only pertinent sports data and little else. Now that we're all on the same playing field, let's examine my methodology for knowledge acquisition:

Cruise Checklist: must be performed once cruising altitude is attained. Power, Engine Instruments, Landing Light, Mixture, and Magnetic Compass. For reasons unknown to me, this was the checklist I most often needed prompting from the CFI to complete, much less remembering its components. But now? The cruise checklist has a more entertaining flavor:

Patrick (reduce power to approximately 75% or 2100 RPM)
Ewing (check engine instruments to ensure proper temperature and pressure)
Likes (turn landing light off for XC navigation)
Mixing (lean fuel-to-air mixture for best engine efficiency and performance)
Coconuts (set heading indicator to compass reading)

See? How many people reading this now want to pursue a career in aviation just so they can say the phrase, "Patrick Ewing Likes Mixing Coconuts?" I know I do. Does the former NBA center really have an affinity for mixing tropical fruits? We'll never know. What I do know is that I eagerly look forward to performing it each flight. With the onslaught of acronyms and checklists headed my direction in the next few months, it's only a matter of time before I start naming these things after friends and family members.

Our progression through the ranks of the private pilot world continues. We've now begun the solo cross country phase, which, even if they offered free Chinese food at each airport, couldn't possibly be any more enjoyable. Each evening, our class individually plans a 150 mile round trip route, using navigation charts, airport/facility directories, and a host of other information to determine course route, fuel consumption, and estimated times of arrival/departure from various airstrips. Once we're deemed competent in our planning efforts, keys are dispensed and we're told to be back in the allotted time frame. That's it. No CFI on board, no passengers, just me and the airplane. Invariably, we will make mistakes; I've come to determine that's the point of our solo training. A missed landmark. Veering off course. Confusing one desolate runway for the next. The CFI's probably expect it, and ultimately that's what makes us better pilots. The few flight hours I've compiled while flying alone has taught me more than I'd learned in the previous month. After all, there's no one with me to correct for my mistakes; or, worst case scenario, bail me out of impending doom. Rest easy though Mom, because it is in these flights that my smoothest landings have happened. Without the CFI serving as conversation fodder, I'm more in tune to other aircraft and the radio calls they're making. Concentration skyrockets to levels not seen since my 3rd time attempt at passing Anatomy. Almost overnight, I am an authoritative, wiser, and more disciplined pilot. Safety, as it turns out, can be heavily emphasized in the classroom but practical application must be discovered through personal experience. My first hours as Pilot-in-Command have only come to reinforce that theory. And, at the end of the day, isn't that was flight school is supposed to be about?

PB&J Sandwiches Consumed (to date): 36