It was on a short final into Palo Alto in a Grumman Tiger that things began to go weird.
I was a relatively new private pilot and it was my first flight in the Grumman; in fact, it was my checkout flight. For several months I had been making maintenance runs for my flying club in various single-engine Cessnas and Pipers, perhaps flying a 172 from the club’s base in Palo Alto to the mechanic in Hayward for an annual, then running some engine parts in a freshly serviced 152 down to Reid Hillview south of San Jose, then heading home. It was a bit more purposeful than just hacking around, it was free, and it provided good practice navigating the Bay Area’s complex airspace.
