The numbers—specifically the Hobbs and the Tach—were not adding up.
The school used dispatch software that kept track of the hours flown so that oil changes and required inspections were not overflown. There was a 0.8 hour discrepancy in the Hobbs number of one of the planes, then a week or so later another aircraft had a 1.2 hour discrepancy. The discrepancies were found first thing in the morning by student pilots during their preflight inspections, leading the flight school to deduce the flights had happened after hours.
Flights after hours were supposed to be dispatched in advance—and this had not happened. An email was sent out reminding all the schedulers, dispatchers, and CFIs to dispatch after hours and contained step-by-step instructions on how to do this. CFIs were reminded to oversee the recording of the information at the end of dual flights.
About a week later, the chief came in before sunup and found one of the low time CFIs flying the pattern in a (surprise) airplane that had not been dispatched. As the chief told the story, the low-timer tried to say he forgot, but that quickly dissolved into he “got caught.” The chief said the low-time CFI was the poster boy for hazardous attitudes—anti-authority, macho, and invulnerable. He knew he was breaking the rules but thought he was too smart to get caught, and if he did get caught, he could talk his way out of it.
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It did not work out that way.
Does this sound familiar? I bet you know someone like this at your airport. They walk among us. It is difficult to reign them in if they own an aircraft. You can’t really do much except refuse to fly with them if they continue to break the rules.
There is a fine line between coaching the pilot and enabling bad behavior—like flying an aircraft without proper certification. You want to help them, but you don’t want to be connected to someone who willfully breaks the rules—you have your career to think about, not to mention your life. And just as you cannot force a horse to drink water after leading them to the trough, you cannot force someone to change their behavior, even if there are consequences.
One particular pilot candidate came into the flight school looking for a flight instructor who could provide three hours of dual instruction in preparation for the check ride. He said he had wasted a great deal of time and money at another flight school, but it simply refused to sign him off for the check ride, and the CFIs wouldn’t teach him how to enter the pattern.
Something wasn’t adding up, and when the CFIs at the new-to-the-applicant flight school asked more questions, they learned the pilot had his certificates pulled by the FAA and was facing reexamination—a 44709 ride, also known as the “709 ride.”
The FAA doesn’t arbitrarily assign 709 rides. They are usually in response to a pilot breaking a rule or doing something that adversely impacts safety, like knowingly flying a not-airworthy aircraft or entering controlled airspace without a proper clearance, or flying without proper pilot training or certification. The airman usually receives a formal notification letter letting them know they are to be reexamined and why. This letter often comes via certified mail.
This pilot claimed he’d never received such a letter and that his only infraction was flying for an hour without a valid medical. Another time it was flying with an expired sectional and entering Class D airspace without a clearance because he didn’t know the airport now had a tower. Despite the red flags three CFIs at the school worked with him.
According to the CFIs who flew with him, he wouldn’t follow directions, and his flying was erratic at best. He supposedly had held a commercial pilot certificate for both single and multiengine aircraft, yet he struggled with the open book pre-solo test.
When he wasn’t endorsed for the check ride after two flights amounting to 3.1 hours of flying and two hours of ground instruction, he demanded the school owner give him the pre-solo knowledge test he’d filled out, then took his business elsewhere—much to the relief of the CFIs.
It was the pilot’s attitude that bothered the CFIs the most. He knew he was breaking the rules. He didn’t think had done anything wrong and was angry at those—the FAA and CFIs—who held him accountable.
When you think of all the time and money it takes to become a pilot, does it make sense to you that someone willfully and knowingly would break the rules and risk losing the privilege of flying? Are you willing to risk your life, career, or certificates on someone like that? I’m not.
