First pax: Whole lot of shakin going on
09/23/2007 Filed in: Flying
8/20/2007
First person to entrust their continued existence to my pilot savvy: My wife. No, not that kind of shakin.
I'm shocked, frankly. My wife is typically a very intelligent, coherent woman with a strong knack for sound judgment. Fortunately for my aspirations of having her as a first passenger, today, she was not up to her usual standards. Had I been a thinking man, I would have tried to parlay her momentary lapse into a subsequent bedroom encounter, but as it is, I'll have to accept "first pax" as the highlight of my day.
After dropping off the girls at school, we head to Smyrna. On the way she chatters nervously about who will pick up our critters if I fail to meet expectations today. She just doesn't understand that Katana N223NH has never let me down, and she won't start today. It's understandable, really. Between you and me, I think it's just one woman's attempt to denigrate her competition, and I placate her appropriately.
Upon arriving at the FBO, I check the weather, grab the keys, and half-listen to the missus asking the manager the odds of our returning with all limbs intact. CFI1 enters and I introduce him to my supervisor.
Wife: So are we going to be ok?
Me: C'mon, lie to her man... tell her I'm a good pilot.
CFI1: He's very good. You'll be fine.
Attaboy!
With that encouraging verbal endorsement, I drag her out onto the ramp and we preflight the airplane together. I take an extra moment to kick and pull on everything that might fall off and make my passenger nervous. Then we climb in.
Wife is taken aback by the luxurious accommodations afforded by the DA20. The tattered leather seats, the clouded gauges, etc. I assure her that these are part of the airplane's charm. Wife looks unconvinced.
At this point, I should mention that the flight was originally going to be a once around the pattern type of flight. Little more than a symbolic first passenger flight, but no less official, despite its duration. She appears fairly calm, so I decide to press my luck.
Me: So, you ok to fly out over the house?
Wife: Yeah, I guess...
Sweet! This will be a real flight then. Symbol schymbol.
I give my first real passenger briefing and we begin the long taxi to the active runway.
I take that time to gauge the extent of wife's jitters, and my spidey sense doesn't detect anything extraordinary. I also put her to work with the video camera to commemorate the occasion. I recommend this tactic, by the way, as it seemed to take her mind off of the possibility that I would careen us into the nearest mountainside. On the plus side, that possibility is one helluva disincentive to ever nag me during flight. Hmm...
After the runup, I ask one final time if she's ok to go. She nods in the affirmative, we get cleared, and it's wheels up time.
Takeoff and climb are uneventful, but I begin to notice it's going to be bit bumpy. This is not unexpected, as it's 400 degrees out, despite being only 10:00am. That's Celcius, by the way.
In retrospect, I wish I'd taken this into account more than I did, but I'm so used to the bumps after training in it for two solid months that I barely even notice. The same cannot be said of my passenger.
It's a bit hazy so I get flight following and we head towards the house. Wife enjoys the scenery along the way, and honesty, I do not detect even a hint of nerves. This *is* unexpected. She's a trooper, I tell ya.
As we reach the town, we're pointing out various landmarks to each other, and generally having a good bit of fun with it. As I get closer to the house, the bumps are really beginning to take their toll so I decide it's 180 time and we make our way back. I think she said she saw the house, but I know I didn't... I'll have to try again another day. I don't know why that matters so much, but for some damn reason, it's something I have always wanted to do.
On the way back, we're both feeling the bumps. I momentarily consider a PIREP for severe turbulence, as we are beginning to test the structural integrity of our composite vessel. My passenger is taking on a greenish hue.
Having no chance of outclimbing the bumpy air before we get back, I opt instead to shorten the trip as much as possible and add copious amount of throttle, stopping just short of the yellow arc. Some will say to slow down instead, and they're probably right. But with this short flight I figure it's 6 and one half dozen so I chose accordingly.
The trip back, despite the discomfort, is mercifully short, and the descent and landing were both satisfactory if not stellar. Wife is very happy that the FBO will not have to hose out her side of our cabin. She's not alone in this regard.
As we secure it, we're talking about the flight, and I do not believe the bumps have scared her off. If anything, they've convinced her to increase my airplane budget so we can climb over that kind of madness in the future. See, there's a silver lining for ya!
For those keeping score:
Total # of pax: 1
Total # of pax who survived: 1
First person to entrust their continued existence to my pilot savvy: My wife. No, not that kind of shakin.
I'm shocked, frankly. My wife is typically a very intelligent, coherent woman with a strong knack for sound judgment. Fortunately for my aspirations of having her as a first passenger, today, she was not up to her usual standards. Had I been a thinking man, I would have tried to parlay her momentary lapse into a subsequent bedroom encounter, but as it is, I'll have to accept "first pax" as the highlight of my day.
After dropping off the girls at school, we head to Smyrna. On the way she chatters nervously about who will pick up our critters if I fail to meet expectations today. She just doesn't understand that Katana N223NH has never let me down, and she won't start today. It's understandable, really. Between you and me, I think it's just one woman's attempt to denigrate her competition, and I placate her appropriately.
Upon arriving at the FBO, I check the weather, grab the keys, and half-listen to the missus asking the manager the odds of our returning with all limbs intact. CFI1 enters and I introduce him to my supervisor.
Wife: So are we going to be ok?
Me: C'mon, lie to her man... tell her I'm a good pilot.
CFI1: He's very good. You'll be fine.
Attaboy!
With that encouraging verbal endorsement, I drag her out onto the ramp and we preflight the airplane together. I take an extra moment to kick and pull on everything that might fall off and make my passenger nervous. Then we climb in.
Wife is taken aback by the luxurious accommodations afforded by the DA20. The tattered leather seats, the clouded gauges, etc. I assure her that these are part of the airplane's charm. Wife looks unconvinced.
At this point, I should mention that the flight was originally going to be a once around the pattern type of flight. Little more than a symbolic first passenger flight, but no less official, despite its duration. She appears fairly calm, so I decide to press my luck.
Me: So, you ok to fly out over the house?
Wife: Yeah, I guess...
Sweet! This will be a real flight then. Symbol schymbol.
I give my first real passenger briefing and we begin the long taxi to the active runway.
I take that time to gauge the extent of wife's jitters, and my spidey sense doesn't detect anything extraordinary. I also put her to work with the video camera to commemorate the occasion. I recommend this tactic, by the way, as it seemed to take her mind off of the possibility that I would careen us into the nearest mountainside. On the plus side, that possibility is one helluva disincentive to ever nag me during flight. Hmm...
After the runup, I ask one final time if she's ok to go. She nods in the affirmative, we get cleared, and it's wheels up time.
Takeoff and climb are uneventful, but I begin to notice it's going to be bit bumpy. This is not unexpected, as it's 400 degrees out, despite being only 10:00am. That's Celcius, by the way.
In retrospect, I wish I'd taken this into account more than I did, but I'm so used to the bumps after training in it for two solid months that I barely even notice. The same cannot be said of my passenger.
It's a bit hazy so I get flight following and we head towards the house. Wife enjoys the scenery along the way, and honesty, I do not detect even a hint of nerves. This *is* unexpected. She's a trooper, I tell ya.
As we reach the town, we're pointing out various landmarks to each other, and generally having a good bit of fun with it. As I get closer to the house, the bumps are really beginning to take their toll so I decide it's 180 time and we make our way back. I think she said she saw the house, but I know I didn't... I'll have to try again another day. I don't know why that matters so much, but for some damn reason, it's something I have always wanted to do.
On the way back, we're both feeling the bumps. I momentarily consider a PIREP for severe turbulence, as we are beginning to test the structural integrity of our composite vessel. My passenger is taking on a greenish hue.
Having no chance of outclimbing the bumpy air before we get back, I opt instead to shorten the trip as much as possible and add copious amount of throttle, stopping just short of the yellow arc. Some will say to slow down instead, and they're probably right. But with this short flight I figure it's 6 and one half dozen so I chose accordingly.
The trip back, despite the discomfort, is mercifully short, and the descent and landing were both satisfactory if not stellar. Wife is very happy that the FBO will not have to hose out her side of our cabin. She's not alone in this regard.
As we secure it, we're talking about the flight, and I do not believe the bumps have scared her off. If anything, they've convinced her to increase my airplane budget so we can climb over that kind of madness in the future. See, there's a silver lining for ya!
For those keeping score:
Total # of pax: 1
Total # of pax who survived: 1