We’ve all been there: At an en route fuel stop—or after a precautionary landing—we find something wrong with the airplane. Could be a bad magneto, a cold cylinder, a starter that won’t engage or a dead battery. If we’re lucky, the airport at which we find ourselves has a shop that can handle the challenge. If we’re really lucky, they have the parts in stock and a mechanic available to install them. We’re on our way in a couple of hours, albeit with a slimmer wallet. But we’ll still make it to Grandma’s house that night.
If we’re not so lucky—which often is the norm—the airport has no such services; just self-serve fuel and some cheese crackers in a vending machine that takes one-dollar bills. You only have twenties. There’s not even a rental car, and the teenager behind the counter is closing up soon to make their soccer practice. No one is answering at the cab company and your ride-sharing app just says, “searching…searching.” The temptation to push on is strong. It flew in, right? It’ll fly out. Maybe. Maybe not.
