Flying

My dad was in the Army/Air Force during WWII. He recieved over 50 hours of flight training in an old TaylorCraft. Eventually his 18 year old eyes were his downfall. His depth perception had him landing the plane a little high…consistently. Ultimately he became “ground crew” in a P38 squadron in western Italy. Along the Adriatic. I guess that is where my fascination with planes and flying started.

Like a lot of boys in the 50s I built model planes and hung them from the ceiling in formations. A flight of Corsairs escorting a B-24 didn’t make military sense but allowed me to play out the mission in my head. My dad flew a few times in small private aircraft while I was growing up. No license … no problem. I formulated a plan to join the Air Force when the time came.

After my accident and a few years in the work world the thought of flying was not “top of mind”…not really something I thought possible. Then around 1978 an acquaintance who had his private license told me of a ruling the FAA had made that impacted, among others, handicapped people wanting to fly. Called a SODA ride (Statement of Demonstrated Ability) I saw an opening that it took 20 years to take advantage of.

Like most young people who want to fly, the first obstacle is money. In my case, Lee and I had married in 76, built a new home in 80 and started a business in 82. For those years money was gone before it arrived. I would not trade those years for a Lear Jet…make no mistake, but I would go to the little airport in Rockwall and go up with anyone in any piece of equipment to just get into the air. One Saturday after being gone most of the day Lee asked me where I had been…I said Oklahoma City. She seemed confused and I told her “a guy” asked me if I want to fly up and back for something he needed to do….I said sure. Off we go…..

In late 80’s I met a quadriplegic named Rick Amber. Rick was a naval pilot (F8’s) who had a bad carrier landing leaving him a quad. Rick not only flew, he helped to craft much of the understanding, regulations and culture that now governs handicapped flying. So much so that there is a display in the Smithsonian Air Museum dedicated to him. Rick encouraged me and loaned me a set of hand controls to play with. After a few hours of instruction I realized that money was no longer the issue but another had taken it’s place…time. Running our business was a 50 to 60 hour per week task. Lee would put in 40 and then per our agreement she would go to her real job…making a home for us and our two near grown daughters. Time was precious and I backed off the flying, returning the controls to Rick.

In the very early 2000’s, both our daughters college graduates and our business not the time consuming monster it once was I began to think about flying again. When I got news of Rick dying from an aggressive bladder cancer I began to realize a truth. I told Lee “the truth is that while you can carry skills you have well into your old age, it is hard to gain those skills when you are older.” She agreed and encouraged me to go for it.

The condensed version of this is I got my private and flew for around ten years, buying two 172s and a 150. My nephew Jeff Honea and I (with me being the pocketbook and him being the brains and muscle) bought planes, worked on them…painting, resolving problems and lots of cleaning…and sold them for more than our cost. Jeff’s motivation was profit while doing something he loved, mine was to “fly for free”. Which I did. Above is a photo of 72 Mike, our first effort. I landed and took off this aircraft at SAT (San Antonio International Airport) when I had less than 70 hours. Spent some of that day lost. Just used Interstate 35 to get home.

The entire time I was training and flying I was locked in a battle with the FAA, the governing body that oversees all aviation in the United States. Very early on, in my original medical, filling out a form I indicated that I had episodes of kidney stones. They immediately denied my medical. I was able to continue to train because I had not yet soloed. That marked the start of 10 years of correspondence and fighting that most rigid of governmental agencies. The fact that I was a T10 Paraplegic and flew with hand controls never came up. Just the fear that I would somehow have a kidney stone attack so severe that I would be unable to control the aircraft. The next 10 years was filled with certified letters and provisional medicals…finally I just lost the desire to continue the battle. The option was to continue to fly, like so many older pilots do, without the benefit of the ticket. Nobody checks. I never heard of a ramp check in all my career. But, if I had an accident, the thought of my last act of earth putting my family in financial and legal peril was not a risk I was willing to take. The problem for general aviation pilots is that there is no incentive for the FAA to help in any circumstance. If they deny…they are just following the rules and they are not at risk. If they work with you and something negative happens they get a black mark on their record. Therefore their default answer is DENIED. I understand but it sucks.

The thing I enjoyed most about flying was doing it in Class B airspace. Because of DFW, Love Field and the many other airports in the Metroplex, it is classified as complex and has it’s own set of rules and protocols. Altitude control and headings are given thru constant radio contact with various flight controllers. I was Sales & Marketing Manager for a Fort Worth manufacturing company just north of Spinks airport. I would fly my Cessna 150 to Spinks where I kept a car around 10 to 12 times a month. The 150 is a very slow airplane and DFW airspace is very busy and I became familiar with some of the controllers…leading to some good stories. One day I left F46 (Rockwall) heading to FWS (Spinks) with the wind screaming out of the south. Normally bright people don’t fly 150s in 35ks (knot) winds, but I was challenging myself and had lots of time. Now my 85ks airplane typically climbed at around 55ks…when you put a 40ks wind on your nose it doesn’t take a genius to realize you are making 15ks across the ground. That fact was pointed out to me by the flight controller when I checked in as I crossed over Lake Ray Hubbard. In a familiar voice he said “33 Golf do you know how long it will take you to get to FWS at this rate?” To which I replied “Wanna do something fun? Tell me when I get to single digits.” And we played the game. He called out my over-the-ground speed as I pulled out power on my Volkswagen with wings. “12…11…10…9..OK single digit. You win. Now put your nose down…stay below 2,000′ and get out of my airspace”. It took me considerably longer to get to work that day than if I had just driven. I also had a real challenge tying the little aircraft down that morning. It kept trying to take off while it was sitting still.

Another day as I was headed home…crossing south Dallas above the VA hospital the controller called out “33 Golf you have traffic. A company plane (term for Southwest Airlines) is coming in from the south. Confirm when you have a visual.” Now there is almost always a Southwest 737 some where over Dallas. I spotted one to the south and told the controller. 30 seconds later “33 Golf confirm visual on traffic”. I was about to key the mike to tell him “I got it”, when my windscreen filled up with blue. The traffic I saw was not the traffic he was talking about. Now while I was probably a quarter mile away a big blue plane doing 190ks will get your attention. Not to mention the turbulence I crossed a few seconds later. If you are going to play with the big boys keep your head on a swivel.

There are lots of stories usually shared between pilots, especially old pilots, across the table at the local FBO and maybe someday I’ll tell you about the time the radio traffic was the controllers vectoring the 747 piggybacking the space shuttle. With us all trying to figure out where they were. Or when Airforce One was on my frequency. Or when I landed in Russellville, AR while Air Guard F-16s shot landings. Or a hundred other stories that make flying worth the money, time and risk it takes.

My hope is that heaven holds challenges like flying. I know “the Controller” and I won’t need a medical.