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| 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.
