Harry

My mother flew with me only once (in 1945). Every time we made a turn
she would climb up on the high side of the cockpit using the steel
frame of the fuselage.. We flew around Davenport, IA and looked at
where she lived, etc. 45-50 minutes.

In later years when all the old widows got together I would hear her
tell how she flew with me once and what a good pilot I (her son) was.

(I was a good pilot but she didn't know it G)

Get a good sunny day with no turbulence and take your MIL for a $100
brunch. If she drinks get her a martini G Do you have any children
she can shepherd and show them what to do in the bird and act like a
mother hen? All good to keep her from freezing up.

Best of luck with your MIL.

Big John.


N.B. While waiting in front of FBO for plane to get back another
private bird (Piper, T-craft, etc.???) taxied out and made a run up
right in front of us (20 or so away). He ran up downwind and the tail
came up and wind got it and bird turned over upside down right there
(where if I opened the car door I could touch. Didn't seem to bother
mother a bit. Probably had already convinced herself that she would
die if she went flying in one of those little birds even with her
son????



On Sat, 08 Nov 2003 13:17:47 GMT, "Harry Gordon"
wrote:

George,

Very interesting :-) !. My wife's mother lives near by and we want to take
her flying but she is scared to death of flying. Before her husband died,
they flew once in a while with commercial airlines and apparently she hung
on to him during the entire trip. I want to take her up in the 172. Getting
her in/out shouldn't be a problem...it's the in between time (from takeoff
to landing) that I am concerned about. She is in her '80s. The only
motivation for the flight is to have some fun. Any suggestions you or
someone else might have would be greatly appreciated. Thanks again for the
entertaining posting.

Harry
PP-ASEL

"G.R. Patterson III" wrote in message
...
My mother remembers when Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic. It wasn't too
long
after that when she last rode in a light aircraft. She regards a 19
passenger
turbo-prop as "one of those little planes". Before today, I regarded the
odds of
her climbing into my Maule right up there with the chances of sprouting
wings
and flying around the room.

Guess it just takes the right impetus. She signed up for a tour of Cape
May, NJ.
Got there allright. Then she started trying to figure out how she could
make the
100 miles to my house after the tour was over. When I pointed out that her
options were a four-and-a-half-hour bus ride, plus a 45 minute ride from
the
terminal, an eight-hour-plus train ride with four changes, or a 52 minute
ride
in the Maule, she decided that the plane looked a lot bigger than she had
thought originally.

I got off the ground a few minutes later than planned, but there was a
tailwind,
so I made it to Cape May on time. Nobody answered me on the Unicom, so I
picked
one of the runways and plunked down. Then I headed for the terminal,
pulled up,
and shut down. Nobody there. Closed for the season. Cranked up again and
headed
down the line. I was pulling into the next building that looked like an
FBO,
when the radio crackled to life. "Maule, your party is down here at
Classic
Air." With a heartfelt "Thank you", I waddled down that way and shut down
in
front of the building.

I suggested that Mama use the facilities before we left and had a chat
with the
line man while loading her luggage. He has a Maule M-4 he's working on,
and we
swapped stories a bit. Then it was time to load Mama.

For those who haven't tried the exercise, getting in a Maule is a bit of
work.
Short, chubby, old women are not well suited to this. On the second
attempt,
Mama managed to get her right foot up on the step. Grabbing hold of the
bar
across the windshield was out of the question, but she did manage to get a
good
grip on the door frame. After that, it was a matter of only about three
tries
before she was able to crawl into the seat.

I climbed in the other side, got her seat belt fastened, and went over the
passenger briefing (which takes about 5 seconds in a Maule). When I
offered her
a headset, she looked aghast and told me she'd just turn her hearing aid
down.
She didn't feel the need to talk. Got started and headed for the runway.

Cape May was still under a grey 2500' overcast, but twenty miles north,
the sun
was shining. We stayed at 1,000' to 1,300' up the coast. I had just come
down
that way, so I knew the turbulence wasn't too bad down there. Gave her a
view
of the Atlantic City casinos as we passed Bader. We stayed east of the
McGuire
alert zone, but that still pulled us away from the coast a bit, and Mama
started
checking her watch. I'm starting to worry about airsickness and such, but
I
found out later that she just needed a bathroom. Already.

So, feeling a little pressure to get her down, I entered the downwind for
06 at
Old Bridge. Wind was from 360 at better than ten knots at pattern
altitude, and
I forgot to allow for the fact that this would produce a short base leg.
As soon
as I leveled off on base, it was obvious I was high, so I dumped in full
flaps.
As soon as I turned final, I was slipping the plane for all it was worth.
At
first, I was worried about what Mama would think - lots of people don't
like
slips. Mama didn't bat an eye. I realized later that slipping the plane in
would
have been SOP back in the 30s when she last flew in one of these things.
Or
maybe it was just hydraulic pressure.

Anyway, we touched down halfway down the field and made the next-to-last
turn
off. I pulled up at the FBO to let Mama out. Whoo-boy! If you thought it
was a
problem getting her into the plane, you should've seen the gyrations
needed to
get her out! If I hadn't told her there was a bathroom behind the FBO
door, we
might still be there!

On the way home, she thanked me for the "adventure". Maybe I can bribe my
sister
into finding out what she really thinks. On second thought, maybe I'd best
not
do that.

George Patterson
If you're not part of the solution, you can make a lot of money
prolonging
the problem.