Flight 23
09-16-95
1968 C-172K
N07
Local
Clouds broken at 3000; vis 15 miles in haze; light NE wind; 65F
0.9 dual
6 landings
"Normal takeoff and landing"
0.6 solo (first solo)
3 landings
"Supervised solo- traffic pattern ops."
This is my first lesson paid for by working for the flight school- we settled on 1 1/2 hours of dual for doing some grunt work around the airport, and by gum, I aim to use up every minute of it during this lesson!
Conditions are just about perfect for practicing landings. A few other people are already up in the pattern, doing just that.
We immediately proceed with six landings, each one a little better than the last. I'm still forgetting little things ("on the centerline... comin' up on 55... temp and pressure are good, and... my window's open...").
After about three landings, I finally feel I understand what the roundout and flare are all about, and it shows. Good work, and I am pleased with myself. But underneath it all there is a buzz of anxiety, because it is very likely that I will be turned loose alone in the airplane today... I can almost smell it. I know J. thinks I am ready- before we started today, he asked if I had my medical and logbook- but... what do I think? I think I should just keep trying hard to do this right.
I am almost disappointed in the actual moment: J. asks me to taxi over towards the hangars. It's pretty obvious what is going to happen, but no trumpets, nothing but the usual bumping along the taxiway, feet dancing on the pedals while I gently nudge the throttle.
But it is time... the realization blossoms, suddenly.
I shut 475 down. J. clambers out, then says, after a glance at the other traffic still travelling around the pattern, "The runway in use may change". Yes, the wind is picking up a bit, but it seems undecided. I nod, the concept only half-registering as my impending solo(!) hits me like a supernova. I yell "CLEAR!", start the engine, and prepare to set off for my first solo flight.
Been awhile since I last sat alone in an airplane with the engine running... and it's very different now, of course, because I am free to fly. Alone. I find myself trying to find my nervousness, to monitor it. At first I suspect I am actually confident, but then I find it. It's way down deep inside... powerful, but firmly leashed. Good.
Before I start rolling, J. moves into view and says something as he holds up three fingers. I crack the window to hear him.
"Do three- three landings. Okay?"
I raise a thumb in answer, and double-check everything. I am aware that I am hesitating. Am I ready? Really ready?
Finally, a big dumb grin spreads across my face. I laugh at myself, shrug, and start 475 rolling down the taxiway.
A Cherokee is ahead of me, and another 172 has joined the line behind me. I call for a radio check, proud that I remembered. The Cherokee takes its turn, and after checking for traffic on final, it is time to say The Words.
"Lincoln Park Traffic, Cessna 475 taking off runway One, closed right traffic, Lincoln Park."
I've said it many times before, but this time it sounds very different. I can see the whole pattern, can see myself in that little plane tracing that big rectangle. In this vision, I make the circuit and arrive safely, just as I have every other time.
But it will be very different, this time.
I remember to close the window... good. Throttle full forward, smoothly. A little right rudder as she gets going. Engine instruments are in the green. I am suddenly acutely aware of the emptiness in that seat to my right. I'm also aware that my fear of screwing up now, as the plane approaches flying speed, is balanced by the relief- the joy- of being trusted at last to fly an airplane by myself, scrutinized only from the ground...heady stuff.
Vr, Vy, and we're off. Done this dozens of times, but... yes. Different. And it's not just the way she seems to leap skyward, free of J.'s extra weight.
No, it's not that. I feel... worthy.
Smiling, I turn right crosswind at about 700 AGL, and at last the real transcendent moment comes. Nirvana? No, not exactly. I am calm and happy, but it's not peaceful with the engne roaring in front of me, and Death is observing closely, although apparently quite content to merely observe at the moment. Keep your distance, I tell him. Not today- it could be quite some time...but you are patient, aren't you?
The trees fall away, and the world spreads out, becoming a vast bowl, lying too far away to pose any danger.I'm doing fine.
As I prepare to turn onto the downwind leg for 01, somebody on the CTAF announces that we are now using 19.
Ummmm...that's right, I think... he warned me... I just have to- wait a sec, what do I do? I have to turn around, but at what point and in which direction? I could ask; I have a radio...
No, no... think!!!
Next: Flight 23, part 2
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I remember right after take-off, having the strong feeling of, "There's only one way this suckers going to get back on the ground, and it's all up to me now", which was really more responsibility than I'd really ever had, and it was really the first time I really felt like my life was in my hands, and there was a chance that something could happen to me, but luckily I was confident in my abilities. I guess there was two ways I could have got back on the ground, but I didn't even think of the 'other' way to end a flight. 
