"Okay, let's get going..." B. said calmly.
"Me?"
"Yup. Go ahead. I'll control the rudder during the whole flight; you can try that later. To take off, just push the throttle in and keep the wings level."
Simple as that... I took a dep breath, advanced the throttle... at around 70 kts, the yoke felt funny. I pulled back on the yoke very gently, trying to approximate the sure, knowing touch of one of the masters, my heroes from all the books I'd been reading about flying. This mental exercise seemed to work; the little trainer confidently levitated, nose high, but not too much so. The runway slid away, forgotten now, and I rapidly began to establish a rapport with my new winged friend as I coaxed her up to 1900 feet, then banked west towards the hills. Amazing... here I was, alive and very happy, after my first takeoff at the controls!!
"You're doing great," B. commented. "Ever fly before?"
I snorted, thinking he was just trying to butter me up so I'd pay for more lessons with him.
"No", I laughed, "but I've been doing a lot of reading, and I think about it all the time..."
He nodded. "That's good; I do that, too... sometimes I practice figuring my heading when I'm walking around the house. It's important to practice visualization... you sure you've never flown before?"
I laughed again. "I think I'd remember that! No, this is my first time at the controls."
At the controls... it felt very, very good. The view under the canopy-style roof was splendid, made even tastier by the flavor of my first bite of airplane mastery. Our shadow plunged down a hillside, danced across the winding Delaware River, then continued west.
B. suggested we head back, so I turned right, losing a little altitude in the process, but not too much.
"That's real good... most people are very jerky with it their first time. Now, really...you're positive...?"
A glance at his face revealed nothing, but he didn't seem to be putting me on. He does have a point, I told myself. Maybe I'm just getting a swell head, but this really is a lot easier than I though it would be...almost seems familiar...
nah, get over yourself; he's just selling lessons. Which is fine- I think he's a good instructor so far; reason enough to come back here...
Whatever was going on, I was feeling grand up there, guiding that little bird (almost) all by myself.
But I now had a little problem- the hills were looming close, apparently at my altitude.
"Give 'er a little more power, and we'll go right over that with room to spare," B. said. "Don't pull back; just add power."
I did, and the Tomahawk just sort of ballooned, quickly gaining another few hundred feet. the hills fell away as we continued east. I had noted our heading flying out from the airport, and now established a reciprocal heading, hoping to come close to the airport without much fuss.
"Time to find the airport. Can you see it yet?"
"Uuuuummmmm..."
Finding a small airport with no tower in wooded hills rising above numerous similar-looking clearings from less than 2000 feet is not easy, especially for a novice. But eventually, thanks in part to my attempt at navigation, it seemed to be more or less ahead of the nose. Following B.'s instructions, I entered the pattern.
"Okay, Sean, you are going to land the airplane. Okay?"
"Okay," I gulped, eager to try, but suddenly feeling something small, dense, and very cold deep inside my stomach. This is
not like it sounds on paper, I mused... can I really do this? Sure, he can take over at any moment, but I don't want that to happen- that'd be a disaster almost worst than crashing...
One thing I knew even then about landing was that it is much more difficult to do well than taking off. This was intimidating then, but of course I would later learn that although landing is tricky, when things are going really badly, the best possible thing a pilot can have is a runway in front of him. No matter what's wrong, that's what every pilot really wants more than anything when trouble strikes. On the other hand, the worst possible scenario in the event of an emergency is to be leaving a runway behind you... it's fairly obvious.
But I didn't realize this at that point... I hoped B. would do as well explaining the process of landing as he had with every other aspect.
He pointed out a house that made a useful landmark to head to in order to establish a proper downwind leg, parallel to the runway. The wind was calm, so I was able to fly straight towards it. After reducing the power a bit, I then turned almost directly over the house, onto the base leg.
Looking down, I wondered if anyone was in that house, and if they realized just how nervous a new flight student can be...
but of course, the instructor could and would save the day if I screwed up; we wouldn't crash this nice machine.
I hoped not, anyway, as I levelled off from my turn to final , way off-center. B. took over for a moment, slipping it back onto the runway centerline as we descended through 600 feet.
"You got it now," he said, "just keep the wings level." The picture ahead looked good. I tried to visualize the flare, and the touchdown point. Yes, I could see how this must be done... I aimed for the numbers, trying to make them stay put and just grow larger. The runway suddenly seemed to rise up towards me... I pulled back just a little...but we were still about ten feet off the runway...
B. took the yoke, quietly saying "Too high. I got it."
Next: part 3 (last)
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