Part 2 of 2
by Bernie Willis
If I detailed the lessons learned flying across the continent in that Arrow, it might take a small book. There was the heat and humidity in Florida. The night I slept in the airplane nearly naked hot and sweaty, until the bugs took over. The midnight run after the thunderstorms died. The eastern haze, though legal, was blinding. The winds in the prairies. The density altitude approaching the Rockies. Then finally the wonderful West or at least the Eastern side of Washington.
What I really learned is that I didn’t know very much. I had escaped trouble because I was cautious (scared) not daring. Back to school, I faced some decisions. My absences were beginning to work against me. I had to drop some classes or get a D or even an F.
Dropping classes would extend my time to graduate. Flying was a lot more rewarding than school, but I realized that after putting so much time and money into it I just had to finish. A careful review of the requirements to graduate led me to change majors to of all things, philosophy, from a narrow view of life to a broad view. From looking at a bolt to seeing a whole airplane. From looking at how to pay the bills this month to seeing a way to live life.
This broader view was enhanced further when the local community college contacted the airport owner looking for a ground instructor for its new program. He recommended me. Now I had to explain what I thought I knew about aerodynamics, theory of flight, maintenance and an instrument ground school. The college was desperate to get an instructor, or I wouldn’t have been considered with so little experience. I was determined to do it well. Then a miracle happened. I got an appointment with the academic dean at my college and explained my situation. I needed credits, better grades and flying was paying the bills. He saw through my problem and said, “sign up for the classes you’re teaching, give yourself A’s and transfer the credits here. We’ll accept them. You never learn a subject better than when you teach it.”
Teaching from a series of Kershner books developed my view that flying was based upon principles of aerodynamics, physics, mechanics or maintenance and decision making that had to mesh or it wouldn’t be safe. And the public would condemn it.
I knew the basics of mechanics, tools and procedures from childhood helping my dad with his projects. Apparently, I did too many of my own projects in his space because at around 10 years old he made an addition to the house beyond the garage for my shop. It really was my shop. My own tools, bench and projects. In time there were model cars, airplanes and real boats. Just through the fence the electrical engineer neighbor who led our Sea Scouts troop had machine tools, a lathe etc. His kids and I had free use of them. So with this background I needed building and fixing to round out my aviation experience. I logged every time I worked on an airplane until I got the hour requirement to take the A&P written. After passing them I forgot about the practical until almost the 24th month and their expiration. I was a flight engineer on the B727 with 23 hr. layovers in Juneau. I mentioned my issue to Captain Gene Riggs. I wasn’t expecting a solution, just sympathy. Another miracle! He introduced me to the FAA maintenance inspector in Juneau. I explained my situation and he said, “Show me your schedule for the next month and I’ll reserve the days you’re here for the oral and practical test.” After that I didn’t need someone looking over my shoulder and in time became the guy looking over somebody else’s shoulder. I couldn’t be happier with the turn of events in my life. Philosophy taught me to think in basics, principles, like the lowest common denominator in my grandkids’ math lessons, a concept to extrapolate from to everything else.
Reduced to its basic elements I see three interconnected features of physics that control flight: shape, temperature and weight. Shape contributes to lift, drag and speed. Temperature controls power and lift. Weight is balance, payload, range and physical integrity. Whose job is it to keep track of all these different, competing but complimenting characteristics. In commercial aviation there are four primary jobs connected with a flying business, director of operations, chief pilot, director of maintenance and dispatcher. For us who fly on our own we are all four. It’s not our mechanic that preflights the airplane and says it’s good to go, it’s us. We select the fuel load and balance it with our stuff to make the trip. We make the choice of how hard to push the engine. We make the choice to change the worn tire and spark plug. We check the weather and make the go, no go decision. While there are experts in each of these fields to seek guidance from, the choices are ours. I like the freedom to choose.
If I want to fly for its beauty, there’s nothing better than an early North bound departure as the sun comes up over the Chugach mountains in the Winter. For design I admire the nude fuselage of the Beech Stagger wing or read Antoine de Saint-Exupery. It’s an adventure checking out the colors of the exhaust valves with a borescope or learning to torch weld the perfect bead around a tube cluster, or I can read Ernest Gann. I want it all, so I build it, fix it and fly. The EAA is here to make it safe, legal and fun.