How long did your smile last?
May 7, 2008 by Jill W. Tallman, Associate Editor
These are some of the memories you described when we asked you back in March to recall your first solo. You sent photos (lots of photos!), short descriptions and long recollections, a scan of a first-solo certificate, another scan of a newspaper article. And you told us how you felt that day.
“It topped every other event in my life so far!”
“It was a day I’ll never forget.”
“I couldn’t contain my excitement when it was all done…”
We put a batch of your photos in the feature article, “I Think I’m Alone Now,” in the June issue of AOPA Flight Training. And we’re displaying another batch in an online slide show. Memories like these are too good to horde. Take a look and relive your own great day–and if you have a special memory, share it with us in the Comments section. (Holding up the key in this photo is Mat Young, shown with CFI Eric Williams.)
Tags: Jill Tallman
May 16th, 2008 at 8:14 am
How long did my smile last, you ask? For me, it was more a look of terror! On my first solo flight, immediately upon lifting off three bees flew out of the air vent and began to circle my head as I was focused on gaining altitude. For most people, this may have been a small distraction. However, for me, it was a potential life-or-death situation: I am alergic to bee stings. In the past they have sent me to the hospital. I managed to remain focused on the job at hand . . . keeping the plane upright and within the traffic pattern and preparing for an immediate landing. I landed the plane safely, pulled the plane over to the tarmac, quickly got out of the plane and with my hat swooshed the uninvited guests out of the cockpit. I promptly returned to the cockpit and completed my remaining two takeoffs and landings. An exciting day to say the least!
Perhaps unlike most new pilots, I had more fear when flying than pleasure. I decided to combat this fear by taking aerobatic lessons from an outstanding airshow pilot in Texas named Charlie Jarrick (It’s been many years ago and I may have his last name misspelled). My goals was to discover how a plane performed in its extreme attitudes so that while flying in a normal plane I would be able to relate its behaviour to my experience flying the Super Decathlon in extreme configurations. I wanted to bracket the airplane’s extreme handling behaviours so I would know how a normally flying airplane would relate to the extremes. I learned to love doing hammerheads, rolls, spins and inverted flight. Once I grew to love this kind of flying, my normal every day straight and level flying became mundane.
I recall during one lesson, as I sat in the front seat and Charlie in the rear, asking him what he thought of my flying. He answered in his usual gruff way by saying I was s - - t for a pilot, but he could build skills into me with enough lessons. But what he really admired was that I did not end up losing my lunch all over the inside of his airplane like most of his students did.
Thanks Charlie for some great training. Every new (and most old) pilots should take a few aerobatic lessons. You’ll never look at flying the same again.
May 16th, 2008 at 8:36 am
How long did the smile last? 39 years and counting. On May 1, 1969, my instructor, Felda Hightower, Jr., climbed out of the faded green Cessna 150 we had inhabited together for six weeks and ten hours, and told me take it up alone for three takeoffs and landings. Chapel Hill’s Horace Williams Airport, which then had two 5,000-ft grass runways, might as well have been Cape Canaveral as I taxiied out alone. Felda’s a big man, and when that mighty 150 broke ground after a shorter takeoff roll than I’d ever experienced, it shot up so fast I felt as if I was indeed riding a Saturn V rocket. (Remember, this was a couple of months before Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.) In the decades since then I’ve flown Learjets and F-16s, and I do aerobatics in my SIAI-Marchetti SF.260, but no climb has ever felt like a wilder ride than hurtling upwards at maybe 300 feet per minute in that green Cessna. For the first time ever I had to level off at pattern altitude and turn downwind, simultaneously, and wondered briefly how I would ever keep up with the machine.
Flying has been one of the greatest joys of my life, through all the years since then. Every takeoff has brought back the same smile. After losing track of Felda for decades, I looked him up a few years ago, took him flying in my Marchetti, and thanked him again for the miraculous gift of flight. He had quit flying in favor of a career in business, but I was delighted to learn flying with me motivated him to get back in the cockpit.
May 16th, 2008 at 11:44 am
That smile? It has become permanent fixture on my face ever since that beauiful December day in 2006! Every flight since has been a wonderful extension of that one experience. The only time “that smile” was any grander was in Januay of this year as I realized, on short final, that I had just passed my checkride flight! I have previously submitted my narrative of that exciting point in time (http://www.aopa.org/members/files/pilot/2007/projpi0708.html).
Probably the single most memorable moment was as I turned base for my first landing I realized I was still talking through everything with my distinctly absent instuctor…
May 16th, 2008 at 12:28 pm
A typical training day of take off and landings was scheduled for that morning. My instructor, though a newbie, did an adequate job of preparing me for these tasks. As we taxied off the runway from another one of my famous greasers, he smiled and unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m gonna’ hit the head for a bit. Why don’t you take it yourself for two touch n go(s), then set her down and meet me here.” The door closed and he was gone. Is he crazy? I thought. I had less then ten hours of training! What if I forget how to talk to the tower? What if I forget how to set up a stabilized approach? What if the world stops existing as we know it?!
The first lap around, followed by a flawless touch and go, rebuilt my confidence. With the second lap around, I had relaxed into the aircraft and began to truly appreciate the wonder of flying. Without the pressure of an instructor scrutinizing everything I did in the cockpit, it was very liberating. Hey, I could even pick my nose – not that I had to.
As I turned from crosswind to downwind, I noticed that it was an unusually clear day for Torrance, CA, with visibility stretching as far as the Hollywood Hills. The entire L.A. Basin was illuminated, as if it was basking in the sun’s radiance for the first time in months. Oddly enough, between the usual marine layer and dense smog, this wasn’t entirely untrue. For the first time that I could remember, dare I say, L.A. looked tranquil and beautiful.
WHAM! …No, I didn’t have a midair collision. …No, the plane didn’t malfunction. In fact, there was no sound at all. But the impression could only be described as WHAM! An explosion caught my peripheral vision. I whipped my head to the north where I had an unobstructed view of the L.A. Basin. Suddenly, I saw huge billows of smoke igniting at numerous hot spots all across the once serene landscape. “My God, we’re being bombed!” I yelled to my non present instructor.
Countless planes began to merge into MY pattern. There were hundreds, maybe thousands - okay, maybe three – remember it was my first solo. The radio jammed with traffic being diverted from nearby Hawthorne and Long Beach airports as they were immediately shut down. I distinctly recall a Bonanza pilot drilling a controller. “Torrance tower, what the hell is going on?! Long Beach sent me to you. I have a meeting I’m late for!” “Sir…” The controller responded with great composure. “Take a look out your window. Los Angeles is on fire. There is rioting in the streets, people are ordered into their homes. Los Angeles, the city, is closed.” Ah, I thought to myself, that’s the L.A. I know and love.
With planes merging around me, with what appeared to be no regard for a traffic pattern, I did the only thing I could think of. Confess and request help. “Torrance tower, Cessna… abeam tower on downwind. Student pilot first solo, request clearance for standard pattern and stabilized approach for landing.” The same controller responded by immediately routing the converging aircraft into a standard pattern and cleared me as second in.
My landing was uneventful and I taxied back to my school. The airport looked deserted, except for my instructor standing by the planes, literally biting his nails. In the end, it turns out my newbie instructor did a fine job of preparing me so that I would remember how to talk to the tower, so that I would remember how to set up a stabilized approach, but more importantly, that I would know what to do if the world stopped existing as we know it.
May 16th, 2008 at 11:52 pm
It was March of 1993. The air was cool, and the cessna 152 performed well on the 2600 foot field at Big Beaver (long gone now). I can remember my instructor stepping out of the plane and telling me it was just as I had procticed, I’d do fine. And with that, he shut the door and walked away. The field seemed to shrink in the cold, It was fine when I took off, but then I noticed how quickly I left the pavement without an extra person in in cabin. That’s when it all set in, that I was alone, except for the radio. I flew the pattern a little wide, just to make sure that I was setting up everything just right for my first solo on final. I can remember how many gages there were to check, and knobs to adjust. It seemed like twice as many as when Rob was in the plane with me. But, I went through my checklist twice, maybe three times and made sure the gages were set, the flaps were lowered, and I was lined up with the centerline. Boy did that runway look small when you are alond. My touchdown was uneventful except for all the butterflies I had in my stomach. As I rolled along the taxi way, the only words of engcouragement were, two more like that, and I can sign you log book. I did two more, and rolled up to the fuel pumps to prep the plane for the next student. As I got out to fuel the plane, I don’t remember using a ladder to reach up on the wing. I think that I was able to float as all the people who were not suppose to be there watching came out to congratualte me. From that day, my smile has not stopped growing. I am now a member of a small elite group that calls themselves pilots. It is a feeling pilots can express with a nod or a gesture, and the other knows exactly what he means, but to the lay man, it is just another story. Next to my family, flying is the greatest event that I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. I am sure the I will carry this smile until the day I die. And when they lay me out, with a big smile, the pilots that walk by will understand, and the others will just walk on by.
May 19th, 2008 at 10:02 am
One more reply as to how long the smile lasted. For me, it was 50 years in the making as I took to the sky in an attempt to cure my lifelong fear of flying. My exposure to aviation was since birth as my father was a 30 year member of the “Delta family.” We could literally non-rev anywhere the airline went…and in first-class comfort I might add. But I didn’t take advantage of it. Nothing anyone said or did helped to cure the fear until I took up the study of flying. I did it on a dare and I still remember getting sick on the way to the airport. To say that I was a challenge to my patient instructor, Jim Kelly, is a gross understatement. I not only had everthing to learn about flying, but I had a terror to overcome as well. I set no records as to the least amount of hours before a solo…maybe just the opposite. But, when it did happen, I felt well prepared. We did the usual practice take-offs and landings and I remember distinctly his telling me to pull off the taxiway and shut it down. He got out of the plane and gave the standard “it will handle differently without me” speech. Yeah, yeah I thought…how differently could it be? I taxied to the run-up area and heard a distinct thumping sound that caused me alarm. I had never heard it before and it appeared to be getting louder and coming in pairs. When I realized it was my heartbeat coming through my headset, I laughed outloud. I am proud to say that I soloed that day five years ago and there has never been one day since that I have not thought about flying. With the help of a great AOPA mentor, I completed the “impossible dream” and received my private certificate on Sept. 28, 2007.
May 19th, 2008 at 9:23 pm
It seemed the perfect day to solo, and I took off after being left alone in the cockpit by my instructor. I was planning the traditional three takeoffs and landings, but on my second landing I had a complete right brake failure. In addition I had come in high and fast. The end of the runway soon became an issue and I decided to go ahead and try to slow it down by going into the grassy median between the runway and taxiway. This was successful, but I also managed to destroy two taxiway lights and an airscrew. The FBO of course insisted it was entrirely my fault, and succeeded in hiding the damage from the NTSB by not contacting them. I subsequently was told not to return to this FBO and have completed my license elsewhere. I won’t name names publicly, but this has always stuck in my throat. Anyone who wants to be warned about this particular FBO ( I also might add other shady business practices have come to my attention), I would be gland to do so privately, by email.
May 19th, 2008 at 10:01 pm
On January 21st, 2008 my Project Pilot Mentee solo’d. The following is what I wrote in the North East Pilot Group Website. Stephen’s solo was as exciting (and a lot more recent) as mine had been 37 years ago. And yes - I remember everything about mine
—————————————-
Today I stood on the ramp at Sikorsky Airport, and just enjoyed the sun, the planes, and the memories. Every one of you that are pilots remember this day - for me it was June 29, 1971, and the plane was a 1964 Piper Cherokee, N6032W.
My friend (and fellow NEPG member) Stephen Burrows thought his instructor might turn him loose today, so I ran to the airport at lunch, borrowed a hand-held radio, and stood in the 20 degree temperature savoring the moment. As I watch, Stephen and his instructor made half a dozen Touch & go’s. I don’t remember mine being so pretty, but they must have been survivable. Stephen had said he felt ready - I hadn’t. In 1971 the instructor could surprise you, and I remember my instructor, Leon Curtis, just telling me to pull over and shut down. When he got out and said “take it around the pattern and come back,” I was so nervous I had trouble getting it started again. As my mind traveled back through the reverie of that day, I watched Stephen taxi back to the ramp, and Bob, his instructor, took a year (5 minutes actually) signing off the paperwork and giving him last minute instructions. Then it was real, as real as the 29th of June had been so long ago; Stephen called Ground Control and taxied away to fly - solo. Finally he was off, cleared for take-off; then cleared for the option; then three beautiful landings in a row. My turn had been at an uncontrolled airport, but Stephen solo’d under the watchful eye of BDR’s tower. When he stopped and cleared the runway the Tower congratulated him with “good job”. He responded “thanks” like he’d done this before. I’m proud of my friend for what he accomplished today, but more - I’m grateful that I got the chance to re-live it vicariously.
Congratulations Stephen and thank you!
May 20th, 2008 at 12:46 pm
I remember the day that I first soloed like it was yesterday. I was just a young sailor serving in the US Navy in May of 1989, stationed at Moffett Field Naval Air Station as an Aviation Electronics Technician with a VP squadron, supporting P-3 Orion’s. My job was fixing communications and navigation gear. My flight instructor was a young reserve officer with the US Air Force who flew C-5’s out of Travis Air Force Base and was a co-pilot with American Airlines based out of San Jose International.
On the morning of my solo, I headed out to base with my young wife by my side to meet my instructor at the Moffett Navy Flying Club. I remember how crystal clear the skies were and how calm the winds were that day. After some ground work, I called Moffett weather for a briefing, filed a VFR flight plan with base ops, and headed out to the C-152 to preflight the aircraft. The butterflies in my stomach were unbearable and my wife told me later that day that my face was pale in color. I was very nervous!
The plan was to depart Moffett Field and head south to Watsonville with my instructor. Once there, we would do a few touch and goes, short field takeoffs, etc… until my instructor felt comfortable to let me go on my own.
The takeoff was flawless as we departed from Moffett to the south. Once cleared of the traffic area, I called Bay Departure to request flight following and report the smooth conditions. The flight to Watsonville was uneventful and smooth as glass. About 30 minutes or so later, I cancelled flight following and dialed up the UNICOM frequency to listen to the radio calls and announce our intentions to land at Watsonville. Except for a couple of aircraft in the pattern, the skies were relatively clear of traffic. I circled the airport 1000 feet above the pattern altitude and located the wind sock, which was blowing slightly and pointing straight down the active runway. “Great!”, I thought… “no crosswind!” Once I figured out which runway was being used for takeoff and landing, I turned outbound on the 45 and decended to pattern altitude while talking on the radio to report my position and intentions. At pattern altitude, it was time to refer to the landing checklist. Being a military and commercial pilot, my instructor was religious when it came to using checklists! I quickly made a gentle 180 to come back in on the 45 to establish a left downwind. Abeam the numbers, I reduced power to 1500 RPM , added carb heat, and as the speed dropped into the white arc on the AS indicator, I added one notch of flaps and began my decent from pattern altitude. As the numbers moved behind my shoulder, I added another notch of flaps, established my approach speed of 67 knots, and began the turn to the base leg while announcing my intentions on the radio. Soon I was beginning the turn to final, adding the last notch of flaps, and establishing my aim point on the runway ahead, just as I had been trained to do. All was perfect on the approach and, with the stall warning horn blaring, I managed to make a perfect landing.
As planned, we made a couple of circuits around the patch performing short field approaches, takeoffs and landings until finally, my instructor said, “pull over to the ramp”. Once parked, he turned to me and said, “I think you are ready. I want to see three takeoffs and landings. Have fun!” And with those words, he stepped out of the aircraft.
Right then, my mouth got really dry, the knots in my stomach came back and the palms of my hands got sweaty. I took a deep breath, tightened my seat belt and shoulder harness, and read through the pre-taxi check list. With the checklist complete, I began to taxi to the runup area. After the pre-takeoff checklist was complete, I announced my intentions, checked for landing traffic, and took my position on the runway for takeoff. It was at that moment that my brain went into auto pilot. With my feet holding the brakes, I pushed the throttle in with my right hand and felt the little C-152 lurch. My eyes scanned the oil temperature and pressure gauges to make sure the readings were in the green, then the RPM gauge to make sure the engine was making full power. I then focused my attention on the AS indicator as the white needle began to move. 30, 40, 50… I moved my focus from the gauges to the view outside, making sure to stay aligned with the runway, holding right rudder to counter the increasing p-factor. At 55 knots I pulled on the yoke and the little airplane responded by raising its nose. And off I went… As I lowered the nose to accelerate to Vx, I soon reallized that I was flying solo for the first time. I had achieved a lifelong dream! I couldn’t help but let out a big “whoopie!” as I climbed up to pattern altitude. Three flawless take offs and landings later, I taxied back to the ramp area to pick up my instructor for the flight back to base. I must’ve had a huge smile on my face because when he entered the cockpit, he said, “feels good, doesn’t it?”
The flight back to base was uneventful and, when I landed, my wife was there on the ramp waiting to congratulate me on my accomplishment. 20 years later, I still have my license and over the years, I have managed to fly many other aircraft, including a T-34 Mentor, Citation SP, Beech Duke, Pitts bi-plane, a vintage Stearman, and a T-33 jet trainer, but I have not flown as PIC in nearly 7 years for personal reasons. My ultimate flying memory will always be the first time I soloed. I will never forget the thrill and excitement of that clear day in May of 1989! It is a moment that will live within me until the day I leave this earth.
By the way, I still have that smile on my face!
May 22nd, 2008 at 1:59 pm
I STILL have that smile, and each and every time I hear a plane go over I imagine being at the controls. Wanting all my life to fly and finally getting to it at age 51, my first solo was so very special I still can hardly believe it.
Here’s the story of my first solo:
wingnut-flightblog.blogspot.com
I hope you all pardon the shameless promotion of my blog, but I figure that’s what blogging is all about - getting your story out there. I’m still a fairly young pilot at a little over 100 hours but I’ve passed two of the four writtens on my way to instrument ground instructor and eventually CFI.
Congrats to all and thanks for checking out my story too!
-Mike
October 31st, 2009 at 10:31 am
[…] on my face. AOPA Pilot Associate Editor Jill Tallman recounts a group of first solo experiences in Flight Training Magazine in May 2008… a good […]