Whoa! I soloed! How cool is that?
We were spending yet another hour doing takeoffs and landings, this time on the grass runway because of a rare east wind. This is probably the most challenging place to fly here because there’s a water tower at one end and a huge maple tree at the other end of the runway, although the actual grass runway is longer then the paved north-south runway.
I’ve been getting better an not being so ground-shy and letting the plane feel for the ground, but today things sort of clicked. On about the fourth landing, I wiggled the rudder a little bit on touchdown , making it just a little bit sideways. Tom, my instructor for the past few lessons, looked over and said “Just for that we’re going to do one more.” What he meant flew completely over my head.
Next time around he had me stop, and got out of the plane. “Do three and come back and get me”.
Oh shit.
I taxied back to the west end of the runway, cleared, announced, and took a deep breath. I pushed the throttle forward, and the little red 150 fairly scooted forward, relieved of over half it’s passenger weight. just past the little hump crossing the paved runway, I leave the ground. I take a quick look over my shoulder and see Tom standing there on the ground and then look at the empty seat next to me, and realize: “You MORON. You are aloft in an airplane ALL BY YOURSELF! You’ve really gotten yourself into it this time!”
All that internal dialog happens in a flash, because it’s already time to turn crosswind and get to flying the plane. About the only thing I remember from the first takeoff is how quickly the watertower disappeared under the nose, since the plane climbed so much quicker solo.
Downwind, I discover I’m too high already (the additional climb rate gets me again) and reduce power early, and concentrate on the landing coming up. I look waaaaay down there near the intersections of the runways, and I can see Tom’s light blue shirt. I wonder what he’s thinking.
Base leg, I’m still too high, and bring on flaps early to deal with it. On the turn to final, I can see it has all worked out and I sail past the giant maple tree with the engine at close to idle and set it down neatly a few hundred feet past the fence.
I taxi back to Tom, and he comes to the door. “Climbs faster without my fat ass in there, doesn’t it? Watch that.” He slams the door and walks away. I go back to the end and once more, take off.
Next time around, I land, and Tom is halfway down the runway, walking unconcernedly towards the FBO office. I take off for the third time, amd Tom is nowhere in sight.
I taxi back and shut the plane down. I sit there for a moment, basking in the sheer glory of the feeling. I can call myself a pilot now, somehow. There was no one else in the plane but me for the last 20 minutes. I did it. All by myself. Damn, that’s a cool feeling.