First Solo

I'm in there alone, and I'm about to fly this thing!

It was a great morning to go flying, and I was up early in anticipation of my first solo flight. I had flown the pattern at Gillespie for nearly 30 hours with my instructor, and with my endorsement in hand I headed out to the field.

Since this was a supervised solo, the first 3 landings would be dual and then the next 3 would be the solo ones. My wife was able to come along as a passenger for the first 3, and then watch me from the terminal where my instructor would be supervising.

I knew I was ready, but the realization hit me that everything I was about to do was all on me. I was the pilot in command, and the decisions were up to me. If I did something stupid, the consequences are on me. This was all going through my mind as I taxi'd from the terminal to the runup area for 27R. However, stronger than any of that was the sense that I knew how to do this. I've had awesome instruction, and studied every chance I had.

Cleared for takeoff, I turned onto the runway and hit full throttle. Airspeed alive, 2300 RPM, 60 knots and time to rotate. The tires eased off the pavement and I was airborne. Just me and N8441B, out to circle the skies. I knew how to do this, and the rest was just pure fun. I made three of my best landings that day and picked out my favorite plane among my flight school's fleet. 41B isn't really liking the recent cold mornings but primed a few times she's ready to soar, just like the morning of Sept 15th, 2011 when I finally soloed.

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Why Fly?

On a clear day, the mountains around San Diego are a beautiful sight.

I'm sometimes asked why I am learning to fly, and I find that to be a strange question. Why does one learn to bake? Why does one learn to sing or dance? It really is as simple as "because they want to".

For the first 27 years of my life, my feet stayed on the ground and I had never stepped foot in an airplane. That means nearly 3 decades of just southern California living and road travel.

I rarely looked up.

Back in February 2007, I stepped foot onto my first airplane. It was a Delta flight to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, where I'd get on another flight to Detroit Metropolitan, for a weekend with the woman who I'm now happily married to. I had a window seat right behind the wing, and when that bird started screaming down the runway, then pitched up into the sky, something just switched in my head.

"That was the coolest thing ever, and I want to be able to do it."

I flew to DTW every other weekend that summer, with layovers spread about the country. It amazed me how efficiently we could travel cross country, how fast we could go, how amazing the view from FL360 was.

Being up there was something pretty special and life changing. Some people may experience this at a very young age and take it for granted, but for me it was one of those rare moments of true childlike discovery.

I'm not going to work for a major or regional airline. I may never own a plane. So why am I getting my pilot's license? Because it's the most amazing, fun, complicated, peaceful, stressful experience on 3 wheels. I just want to.

My eyes have been turned forever skyward.

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