Since purchasing my Cessna 170 two summers ago, the specter of bad luck and I have become very well acquainted. From an idiotic oversight that ruined cylinders (and was entirely my fault) to weeks upon weeks of unflyable weather to winter runway maintenance that commonly appears to have been handled by an insolent helper monkey, it’s fair to say we’ve spent a lot of time together. At times, I suspect this specter maintains a small staff of assistants to ensure the joys of aircraft ownership remain fleeting and special.
But from time to time, I’m welcomed by profoundly good luck. On rare occasions, days off align with fantastic weather, a usable runway, and a properly functioning, squawk-free airplane. On these occasions, I approach my flying with a healthy dose of suspicion and brace myself for the worst, but I make sure to appreciate the good fortune.
