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.

Larry handed me a small book. On the cover, it said Pilot’s Operating Manual – Cessna 150. We went through it covering basic things like the fuel capacity, the controls, operating limitations and so on. He then opened it to a page that showed a plan view of the plane, titled Preflight Inspection. We walked around the plane, following the diagram, and he had me point out each part and gave me a short explanation of its function.

We took off, and Larry then showed me the landmarks that delimit our “practice area”. First on the flying agenda was power-off stalls. He demonstrated one, and then it was my turn. I pulled the power back, and started to raise the nose to maintain altitude as he had showed me while the airspeed bled off. It was interesting to feel the controls ‘changing’ as the plane got slower and slower. The little warning horn (which is almost a ridiculous sound, a little reedy whine that gets louder as you get closer to the stall) kept getting louder. I sort of got anxious waiting for the stall to happen, and when it did I was a little rough and abrupt pushing the yoke forward to start flying again. My head hit the roof of the cockpit, and Larry said “Well that wasn’t exactly necessary. Just release the back pressure and it will start flying again.” Two or three more attempts produced slightly better results, but I envy his ability to do it so smoothly.

Next on the agenda was slow flight- flying the airplane right on the edge of a stall, without letting it actually stall- keeping the airspeed at about 60 mph. I couldn’t do this at all at first- I kept feeling like I was balancing on a beach ball, and had no feel at all for what the airplane was doing. Not knowing what I was doing was truly scary for a bit, sort of like being in a dream where you are on a high-wire somewhere and it’s windy, and you don’t know how you got there.

Mercifully, Larry cut this part of the lesson short. We went back to regular flying and headed toward the airport. On the way, we practiced flying a rectangular pattern around a farm field. I couldn’t do this at first either, until Larry pointed out the wind direction, and showed me some neat ways of determining it from the air. Once I got the idea of how to angle the airplane so the wind didn’t blow it off track, it was easier. I need to study the wind more.

We landed, and Larry had me keep my hands lightly on the controls as he kept a running commentary of what he was doing. It quite a view out the from window when you’re landing- watching the runway get closer and closer- sort of mesmerizing.

I bought a copy of the pilot’s manual, and a private pilot coursebook from the guy who runs the airport- it turns out his name is Orville! Heh.

I rode my bicycle to the airport down in Greenwood. It’s about nine and a half miles straight down Emerson Av. I walked into the office, and asked the man behind the desk if I could take a lesson.

Half an hour later, a guy named Larry came out and asked if I was his new student. Student? That sounds a lot like school to me! (Oh how little I knew!)

We walked out to the plane, a red Cessna 150 with N23505 painted on the side. We walked around the airplane, and he started explaining the various parts and controls to me. He said we were “pre-flighting” the plane. We got in, and I was immediately struck by how small it was inside. I didn’t know you could sit that close to someone else without being related to or in love with them. I seem to be all elbows as I try and move around the cockpit, such as it is, and touch the various dials and switches he shows me.

Finally he pulled out a little card he called the “checklist” and we went through it step-by-step until we got to the point where I had to pull the little handle to start the engine. The starter ground, and then the plane shuddered as the engine caught. It seemed awfully loud to me. Larry moved the plane out of the parking spot and then showed me how to steer it with my feet as we swerved down the taxiway towards the end of the runway. It’s an odd feeling to try and steer something with your feet, and it’s especially ungainly and awkward since the pedals seem to be connected to the nosewheel by something akin to rubber bands.

At the end of the runway, finally, Larry “ran up” the engine and said we could fly, and had me put just my fingertips on the wheel to feel his movements as we took off. He pushed in the throttle, and we sped down the runway, and before I could take it all in, I felt him move the wheel back and the ground dropped away at an angle.

Look Mom! I’m Flying! Well, I wasn’t, actually, but I was sitting in front of the controls of an airplane in flight. We climbed away from the airport, and Larry started to explain how the airplane was naturally stable in flight and to prove it, he let go of the controls. Nothing happened. Interesting. He then had me take the wheel, and immediately, the airplane started going places it wan’t supposed to, or so I thought. I’ve never felt anything that sensitive to my touch in my life. After a few minutes, it seemed I could fly in more or less of a straight line without turning us over, and he introduced me to the compass and turns by asking me to point the nose at “that water tower over there”. I did, and he immediately said something about backpressure and altitude. I looked and after a couple of feats of mental gymnastics, I got the idea that if you don’t hold the nose up in a turn, you lose altitude, and I had apparently lost a couple of hundred feet.

After a bit more practice, he asked where I thought we were. I looked around, and realized that I had absolutely no idea. I couldn’t see anything I recognized, and began to understand that there was a lot more to this flying business than I thought. Larry let me off the hook by pointing out a strip in the distance. “That’s the Shelbyville airport. Let’s land over there to take a break for a minute.” He pulled out the throttle an inch or so, and the engine quieted down, and I had sort of a “Whoa!!!!” moment when the nose of the airplane dropped as we began our descent. I must have gasped or looked green or something, because Larry looked at me a little closer and said “Do you want to go back?” “No, I just didn’t expect that right then.”

I watched with interest as he took over the controls, and watched the runway loom in the windshield as he landed with a little bump. We taxied back to the end of the runway, and he had me steer it down the runway as we took off, my feet desperately trying to keep the plane somewhere in the vicinity of the middle third of the this (much wider) runway. Again, the ground tilted, we lifted above the cornfields, and I got to practice keeping the wings level and making small turns as we flew back to the Skyway airport. Once again, he landed, and I went inside and paid. I purchased a logbook, and it now has one line filled out:

6/27/70 SKYWAY SHB CE-150 23505 CONT 100 1.o FAM FLIGHT, BASIC CTL, TURNS STR-LEV and a real live signature.

Oh, now I need to go tell my Mom what I did this afternoon. She doesn’t know.