Oh, those early flying years—making no money to speak of but being a commercial pilot flying for a living. Troubles seemed so far away. I had my first job after graduating college as a flight instructor in Indianapolis. Life was grand, what could go wrong? I was married to a registered nurse who could support us, and I could go flying every day.
It was a beautiful Indiana winter morning in 1973. What a great opportunity. One of my instrument students owned his own aircraft, a Cessna 210, and was letting me borrow it for fuel to take a quick two-day vacation to Disney World in Florida. My wife and I were so excited. We’d been married for not quite two years, with no children yet—three to come later—and we were inviting our chief of maintenance, Jerry, his wife and their two small children to go with us.
