When Dave Was Sky High

I suppose at some point it makes sense for Sky "High" Dave to talk about the sky and my love of having my head in the clouds. Like most young boys, I loved to build plastic models. My favorites were battleships, because they had so many guns and the gun turrets would actually move, and propeller driven military aircraft, especially those with retractable landing gear. Most of my paper route earnings would go toward the newest and most intricate model. I'm not sure why I chose the Army over the Air Force or Navy, other than that it was a great opportunity at the time.

As an adult, I often daydreamed about learning to fly. I was attracted to the adventure of it all, but a little apprehensive about learning such things as stalls and emergency procedures. The average human being is not at all attracted to a pastime that couples two of man's greatest fears - falling and being burnt up, only with flying they could happen at the same time. But the expense of it all as well as life's demands on a young husband and father commanded my full attention. However, the daydreams continued. But daydreams can be better than experiences, sometimes because you can create a fantasy that neatly omits all the difficulty.

But when I turned 40, some things happened that opened the door. I found myself in a consulting role that provided both excess income and excess time. Flying can suck up both. So as I rounded the corner of my fourth decade of existence, I decided to either do it or stop living in a fantasy of "someday". What sealed it was an introductory flight that demonstrated that certain things were not necessarily going to be as difficult as I thought. And I found an instructor more my age. Most were half my age and that was a little rough.

I was able to get my private, single engine, airman's certificate after an average amount of instruction and solo flight. Because of my military background, communications and navigation came pretty easily. My instructor was great about teaching me to control the aircraft, but you have to teach yourself how to land, pretty much. They say the instructor is along on the landings to keep things safe and to keep you from hurting the aircraft. But you have to get a feel for it yourself. This was my greatest challenge and took the longest to learn. There is a big difference between a really precise landing and a safe landing. I learned to make safe landings, but it takes a lifetime to make perfect landings.

I also learned that there are born pilots and mechanical pilots. Born pilots have an innate ability to fly well. They possess tremendous hand-to-eye coordination, unique spacial awareness, uncanny depth perception, and, each step comes naturally. Mechanical pilots learn the ropes and can fly safely, but they have to work at it more and are never as comfortable in the air. I was a mechanical pilot. It may also have something to do with when in life you learn to fly. The earlier the better. As you get older, your sense of mortality is more acute.

I loved to fly. I loved everything about it. I could read about it endlessly. I loved every phase from flight planning to continued training. It is the only avocation I'd found so far that fully occupied my body and mind and was truly recreational. Not to say that I didn't have some serious down moments, the worst being running off the runway with 4/5 of my family on board (0 injuries, other than ego) and becoming disoriented in the clouds which required a serious recovery.

But the highs were really high. Most notably were; my first solo cross country flight, a final requirement before your federal check ride, as well as flying to such places as Seattle (the prettiest) and Las Cruses (the farthest). The highs continued with the eventual ownership of a small plane and ultimately obtaining an instrument rating. This rating made me a much more precise flyer and gave me permission to fly "in the system" along with all commercial aircraft. I have always loved learning new things. Now I had discovered a whole new world within a world and it was exhilarating.

But the cliche of "all good things must come to an end" has to have a ring of truth or it wouldn't be a cliche. A bad back, coupled with medication that disqualifies one from flying put an end to things much sooner than I had hoped. I will confess that there are some things I don't miss. The expense of it all was ridiculous. Everything from aviation fuel to repair parts cost many times over what a sane human should pay for them. And there was always something to tend to on the plane, leaks, radios, tires, inspections, etc. Oddly, I even had a difficult time finding passengers. Again, I think it's that falling/burning thing.

Rather than dwell on a lost opportunity, I add in both reality of what I didn't like about flying, along with gratitude that I was able to do something that many people never have the opportunity to do. And Karen was incredibly supportive of it all. Now the challenge is to find an appropriate avocational substitute. Whatever it is, it has to involve lots of knobs and dials.

SkyHiDave