September 27, 1999
Some Glad Morning….
by Joshua Carden
I think I’ve mentioned somewhere along the way, that I like to fly. So much so, that I used to take flying lessons before I-and my money-went to college. I will skip the obvious joke about my arms being tired (Go ahead and groan). Anyway, when I was 16, I began learning to fly a small plane at a one-runway airport in Parker County, Texas. Right off, I have to tell you that Texas is a great state to learn to fly in. There are nice flat emergency landing places everywhere! Which was a good thing, because my instructor’s method of letting me know I had made a mistake was to turn off the engine. Really. He would calmly sit there while my blood pressure skyrocketed and I began to look for a nice field with no cows to set ‘er down. This was called “emergency landing practice.” Believe me when I say this: I never made the same mistake twice! He’d let me get down around 10 or 15 feet (okay, okay, 200 feet) above the ground and then fire up the engine again. He’d sort of smile out of one side of his mouth and ask: “You gonna do that again?” Usually I just shook my head and waited for my tongue to quit sticking to the roof of my mouth.
On one of these occasions, he encouraged me to pretend like I was going land on a fairly wide empty road. Well, mostly empty. There was one small pickup about 300 yards in front of us and 500 feet below us and headed in the same direction. Of course, I knew that Jim would fire up the engine as soon as I got close to the ground. Of course, Jim knew that he would fire up the engine as soon as I got close to the ground. Unfortunately, the pickup wasn’t tuned in to our frequency. Small planes don’t go much faster than cars but we were slowly getting closer and closer to Mr. Pickup. Finally, he must have looked into his rearview mirror and seen us. I didn’t know a small pickup could corner that fast without rolling over! He swerved once or twice and then slammed on his brakes and got off the road, right about the time Jim restarted the engine and we continued on our merry way. I often feel sorry for that man.
After about six hours of lessons, I knew I was getting close to the time when I would “solo.” Pilots have some strange traditions. When you take off and land for the first time by yourself, your instructor takes a pair of scissors and cuts out the back of your shirt. He then writes your name and the date you soloed on the cloth while you hunt for something to keep the draft out. Anyway, my instructor and I had set Friday as the day for my solo. I had already picked out the old t-shirt I would wear. Wednesday, I went out for my last prep lesson before Friday. We did some of the usual practice routines (“You gonna do that again?”), and then headed for the airport to finish off the lesson. As I landed the plane, Jim turned to me and casually said, “Well, I’m getting out. Go ahead and take it around again.” It took a moment for his words to sink in, and then I looked down sadly at my best flannel shirt I had worn to town that day. I took off and flew a few sweaty-palm maneuvers around the airport and then landed. I don’t remember the conditions around me, but as I touched down I’m sure the sun broke through the clouds and cannons sounded and somewhere James Brown began to sing “I Feel Good!” As I approached the office, Jim was waiting with the scissors. I have to tell you that I was still so charged up after my solo, I could have been wearing a solid gold shirt and I wouldn’t have cared a bit! I took it home and showed my mom and dad. With a typical parents’ reaction they said, “You’ve been doing WHAT?!?!” Just kidding, they said “Let’s frame it!” I don’t think that would have occurred to me. Does that phrase become part of your vocabulary only after you have kids of your own? Anyway, the back of my shirt now hangs proudly on my wall, just underneath my poster that says “Flying is the second greatest thrill known to man. Landing is the first!”