Over the last few days I’ve been getting a lot of advice from a lot of people who I would say are a lot smarter than me and who have a lot more experience, in aviation and in life. It’s gratifying to know there are accomplished folks who are willing to take the time to share their own stories of success and failure, to offer guidance and counsel at a time when the right words can make all the difference in the world to someone in need of a little of both.
Really, that’s been my experience in aviation since the start, from my first days as a clueless teenager endeavoring to fathom the mysterious art of flight in the rear seat of a Piper Cub, alighting onto Trinca Airport’s lush green grass, hemmed in by the early autumn corn casting long shadows, and taking it all in with pure, unbridled awe.
According to my first logbook entry that was 28 years ago this month. Can that be? Here’s the entry, scrawled in hasty black penstrokes: Sept. 30, 1987; N91949; Piper J-3; “Familiarization” — 30 glorious, life altering minutes at the controls of an airplane with my instructor, Ernest “Pete” Billow.
Pete was famous for three things: his wardrobe (cowboy boots and denim jacket), the cigarette that usually dangled from his mouth when he wasn’t flying, and his dubious scowl when looking over a prospective new student. Oh, and he could fly airplanes like nobody’s business. I remember him for his great advice. One of the most un-Zen-like people I’ve ever met was a master at teaching the Zen of stick-and-rudder flying.
One piece of advice that stands out from my early days came from one Donald J. Trump. I was 17 years old, working at the old Pan Am East 60th Street Heliport in New York City lugging bags, fueling helicopters and handling the radio. Trump’s Super Puma would arrive regularly, shutting the whole place down because its size forced the pilots to land sideways across all the available landing spots.
One day, Trump, who was famous for not tipping, gave my coworker Frank a crisp $5 bill. Taken aback, Frank waved his hand and said politely, “No thank you, Mr. Trump.” The Donald stepped in closer, pressed the bill into Frank’s hand, gave him that trademark steely gaze and said, “Never turn down money.”
The advice always stuck with me, not that I’ve had an abundance of opportunities in my lifetime to put it to good use. Actually, we all laughed our heads off afterward. But no, really, it’s good advice.
My first editor, Jim Holahan, gave me some sage advice over lunch just before I joined Flying five years ago: “Don’t write about meteorology,” he said. “Pilots hate reading about the weather. Boring as hell.”
My instrument instructor gave me this advice: “If it flies, floats or fornicates, it’s cheaper to rent than own.” He didn’t actually say “fornicates.” Anyway, I’ve yet to own an airplane. I do, however, own a boat. It’s for sale if you’re interested.
I think part of the reason the advice we receive from people in aviation, our mentors especially, is so valuable can be traced to the extraordinary types who are drawn to aviation in the first place. Smart, successful, driven, passionate — they aren’t your everyday kind of people.
Oshkosh this year was a perfect example, but this sort of thing happens all the time. I was talking with a fellow pilot who was wearing a Van’s RV polo shirt and so of course I asked her if she built her own airplane. She did. But there’s more to the story. A few minutes into the conversation I learned she had a career flying for NASA, in the Space Shuttle Training Aircraft, a Gulfstream II that would drop like a lead brick toward the runway at Edwards and the Kennedy Space Center — on purpose, mind you — with its thrust reversers deployed and gear extended at over 300 knots. She taught the shuttle astronauts how to land.
Yeah, I’d take advice from her. Or really any of the countless people I’ve met in aviation with similarly incredible stories and backgrounds.
I’m looking forward to sharing some of those stories with you. That’s why I’ve introduced this new column, “On Course,” to start a dialog, to talk about the important issues facing general aviation, to share experiences, and to help us all learn and grow and thereby hopefully become better, safer pilots.
I’m looking forward to making the journey, and staying on course, with you.
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