There I was, 1000 feet above the airport, flying the pattern, with no safe way to land my plane. I was lonely, angry, afraid and somehow also at peace. “Fly the plane!” Those words kept repeating more than I could count. My past instructors’ words offered encouragement. It’s now been two years since that flight, when I almost made my wife a widow and my children fatherless, but the part that haunts me most is it was all my fault. Here’s what happened.
Highly Motivated
I have always wanted to be a pilot. Life and medical school made it difficult to find the time and money. Finished with my medical training and finally earning a decent income, I sought out a flight instructor, and earned my private certificate in six months and just over 40 hours. I joined a flying club, taking their Piper Archer II everywhere. Along the way, my family was growing beyond its four-place cabin and useful load, and I was looking for other options.
