Flight Journal: flight 45

[beaky]

Flight 45

1975 C-172M
TEB-N07-TEB
1.2 dual. 0.5 solo
7 landings

Hi thin OC, light winds. Cool.

"norm, short, soft-field takeoffs&landings; norm pattern; emerg. proc.; go-around (2nd solo)"






We fly directly to N07, and I shoot "one of each". Well-done, if not perfect. At one point, abeam the numbers, C. "pulls the plug", and I'm forced to make it to the runway with no power.
I realize here the importance of turning immediately... once past the threshold, there's little chance of making it if one tries to maintain the normal distance. I don't wind up slipping this time, because even making a wide 180 right after the threshold, I'm not too close.
At one point as we make circuits, the traffic suddenly increases. There are at least 4 other ships going around the pattern, also practicing landings. While holding short for someone on final, we watch for the plane to appear over the trees by the road.
"How far out is he?" C. wonders aloud. We'd heard him call final quite some time ago.
"Here he comes..."
I sure hope this person is a beginner, I think as  I watch. The arriving Skyhawk is WAY high. Even I have never arrived so high. Will he go around?I wonder, certain that C. is also wondering. We say nothing, slowly following the plane with our eyes, riveted on it.
No, they try to slip it in, barely controlling the Cessna as it yaws and tilts perilously. At one point, it dives straight for us, and I brace myself to try to get out of 23F and run for my life. But it veers away. there might have been an instructor aboard, I can't recall, but as they finally cross the threshold, they're pretty well lined-up, if still high and hot.
"Go around..." I murmur, watching as they touch down midfield and roll out swiftly, somehow coming to a stop before the pavement runs out.
Soon I'm taxiing  over for another takeoff, wondering if I'm going to solo today. We're running out of time...
Now I'm at the hold line, ready to go. No, he's not going to...
Suddenly he unfastens his seat belt, opens the door, and says, over his shoulder:
"Gimme a normal, a short, and a soft, OK?"
Then he's gone, walking over to a spot on the grass, just by the runway.
It's time. I smile.
I'm ready, and this time it's long overdue.


"Lincoln Park traffic , Cessna 2-3 Fox departing 19, closed left traffic, Lincoln Park."

Fuel on Both, flaps up, takeoff trim, landing light on, window closed, and I'm off.
The lack of wind makes it easy to perform a nice takeoff. I can't help but let out a war whoop as 23F carries me upward, steady and straight, solely under my control.
The traffic has mysteriously vanished. I've got the airport all to myself.
My mood is ecstasy, subdued and tempered with quiet pride. This is the payback for all the hard work, sacrifice, and disappointment.
The revelation that presents itself so naturally and so brightly at this moment is the fact that it feels so right to be alone up here, alone.
But I can't afford to relax now... quickly the touchdown point passes under the left wing, and it's time to prepare.
Don't stay high... descend on base!! Flaps... stay ahead of her... very nice...

My glide on final is nice and low... a tad too low, I notice, as we slide over the greenhouses.
I nudge the throttle a bit, focusing on the numbers painted on the asphalt.

The big number "19" becomes the center of my universe, and the man-high shrubbery between it and 23F becomes a celestial waypoint. I know that I'm set up right to plant the Cessna right on the numbers, if...
C'mon... right over the bushes. Pick up a few leaves.
Mustn't flare late, or high... I'm adrenalized but quite cool and confident, knowing that C. is not here to pluck at the yoke.

Prop idling, 23F glides over the road, then the hedges.
Yes...
No...
 I touch down just past the numbers, just a hair too hot. Oh well, this was not supposed to be the short-field landing...

As I approach C. while taxiing back for takeoff, he flags me down. Damn! He's going to end my solo session...
"That was good," he says as he opens the door.
"Thanks. What's up?" I say that exactly the same way as when I've been pulled over by a cop.
He starts rummaging thru his flight bag.
"Just wanted... this!" he says, pulling out his cell phone.

Whew! I'm wonderfully relieved at this, and he shuts the door and turns away from the plane.

Next is the short-field takeoff. Flaps 10, hold brakes during throttle-up, in the green, good rpm, release...
She rushes forward as I release the brakes, and we're off again for another trip around the pattern.

This next approach is not quite what it should be- the short approach is something I really need to work on. The landing is good, but hardly what I'd call short.
Back around to try again... C. gives me a thumbs-up as I swing out onto the runway, already rolling for the soft-field circuit, yoke all the way back.
Keep rolling... back pressure.... come on, scaredy-cat, let's horse her off, get that nosewheel up... OK, airborne, in ground effect...now ease the nose down, stay in ground effect... airspeed coming up...

I smile as I make my finest soft-field departure so far, skimming the runway without rising too much.
As I pull back to climb, I hear C. in my headset.

"Window..."

Aghast, I realize that I forgot to dog the window on my side before taking off. I'm not too sure if it's safe to leave it open at any speed, so I foolishly decide to close it, while still climbing out.
Even more foolishly, I let go of the throttle and reach across the yoke with my right hand to latch it. Now I'm in a perfect position to lose control should a gust of wind upset the plane ,requiring use of yoke or throttle.

Just plain stupid... I had recently read of a pilot who'd just been checked out in a Bonanza: she'd done very well, especially when it came to ignoring the (right hand) door that had a tendency to pop ajar in flight. With a Bonanza, it's nothing to worry about; one just closes it when back on the ground.  During her first solo flight in the powerful plane,the door came ajar again as she took off, but she didn't ignore it this time... wound up diving full-throttle onto the patio of a nearby house, with a couple of families gathered there for a barbeque. Several of them were killed in the ensuing crash and fire. When they had put out the burning plane and house (both were destroyed), her body was found stretched across the right seat, with her hand still gripping the door handle.
 Horrible, tragic, sad, and... remarkably stupid.

Even stupider was me pulling the same stunt after reading that story...go figure.

This fool is favored with better luck; I get the window secured without mishap, and ponder my  stupidity and good fortune as I settle 23F on downwind. She seems to understand my humility, and is prepared to reward me for my moment of wisdom.
The soft-field landing is pretty good- a little shot of power as the wheels make contact- but I leave it in a moment too long, and suddenly I'm rolling too fast. The last taxiway before the displacement area, and it looks like I'll wind up on the grass. Applying brakes a little heavier than usual, I bring 23F to a stop brusquely, even skidding a bit. Not good.
On grass or dirt it would've slowed down quicker, but a soft field is usually a short one; should've been slowed-up more to begin with.

C. makes no mention of it as he climbs back in.

"Good work; good work. Let's go home."

Arriving back at TEB, I consciously try to keep my approach shallow as we glide down towards 24. Following the PAPI, I sink just a bit below the glideslope, adding a little power just as we soar over the roof of a warehouse across the highway.

23F touches down smartly right on the numbers; I'm quite proud of myself until C. speaks again, laughing:

"You almost landed on the roof of that building!"
He ought to yell at me... I think I just got a break.

Postflight, I'm told I need to take another check ride to confirm I'm ready to fly solo out of TEB. I'll be ready, and then I'll be allowed to show up and take a solo hop whenever I want!

P.S.- I was pleasantly surprised to hear J.P. , who had turned me loose for my REAL first solo, on the CTAF at some point during this flight...


Next- flight 46: first real hood time