I was about halfway through my private pilot training, and returning to my home base from an uneventful solo cross-country. I was in the Cessna 150 I had first soloed, and despite my relatively few hours, had become comfortable with it. One habit I had adopted, especially when flying solo, was to fly my landing approaches a tad faster than might be recommended. I rationalized it by noting I was typically well above the airplane’s stalling speed, but also well within the airspeed indicator’s white arc. All the runways I used were long enough it didn’t make much difference in the 150.
For the last landing of the day, I carried a few extra knots over the runway threshold and into the flare, as usual. Rolling past the intersecting runway I wanted to use taxiing back to the FBO, I slowed to almost walking speed before swinging around on the runway and returning to the intersection.
