At last, the truth...

Most of our guests at the hotel are not pilots. It's simply a matter of
numbers -- there are a LOT more non-pilots than there are pilots, and they
need hotel rooms, too. Many of our guests are "wannabes" or aviation
enthusiasts, however. Although we have found many people who are afraid of
flying, we have yet to meet someone who doesn't like airplanes -- and those
people are our "bread & butter."

An amazing number of guests tell me that they have taken flight lessons, but
quit flying for one reason or another. I have never been able to understand
this phenomenon, since -- after the first lesson -- I was hopelessly hooked.
I would have done anything to finish getting my ticket (and did go so far as
selling my blood plasma for flight money) -- so the concept of quitting just
never made sense to me. I always inquire about their reasons for quitting,
and I often hear the same old explanations (money, time, kids, wives,
etc.) -- but I often sensed that there was more to the story than they were
telling.

I've often suspected that these near-pilots had lived through some
life-changing event, or had been badly scared during flight training. I
simply couldn't fathom what else could cause someone to simply jump off the
horse and walk away from it, forever -- but I had never been able to coax
the story out of any of these "almost-pilots." The macho, gung-ho attitude
that seems to envelope aviation seemed to preclude ever finding anyone who
could admit (perhaps even to themselves) what had happened to them.

Until a few days ago. As many of our guests do, this fellow was hanging
around the lobby, studying all the gizmos, gadgets, books, models and
memorabilia that have spread like lichen all over the place in the last
three years. As is my wont, I struck up a conversation with the guy, and we
casually discussed aviation and airplanes for a few minutes.

It soon became obvious that this guy knew way more about flying than our
average "wannabe" guest. Sure enough, upon inquiring, he admitted taking 18
hours of instruction, and he had several hours of post-solo flight time
under his belt -- before he quit.

Maybe it was the relaxed nature of the setting, or perhaps it was the fact
that he was on vacation and simply let his guard down, but when I asked him
why he had quit (as I ask EVERYONE who tells me they had stopped flying), he
actually told me truthfully and sincerely what had happened.

It seems he had just soloed a week earlier, and was out practicing touch and
goes on his own. There was a bit of a cross wind -- nothing bad -- which
apparently increased while he was working the pattern. On his last
take-off, when he rotated the cross wind kicked up and carried him out over
the adjacent bean field, and in his confusion he found himself sinking
toward the beans.

In a panic, he luckily overcame the urge to simply pull the yoke back into
his belly, and pushed the nose over. Doing so gained some speed, and he
climbed out normally. He then came around and landed with some difficulty,
but without incident.

This seemingly innocent incident scared him so badly that he walked into the
FBO, sat down with his instructor, and told him he was through.

His instructor asked him what happened, told him that what he had
experienced was easily countered with good technique, told him he had done
well and acted properly, and immediately booked him for a few more dual
lessons.

To no avail. This guy was so taken aback by his brush with disaster that he
just couldn't get into flying anymore. He did fly a couple of more times
with his instructor, but he could never get back in the saddle. He quit
altogether.

That was over ten years ago. When I encouraged him to try again, and told
him that it was never too late to get back into flying, he wistfully but
firmly replied that it would never happen.

At last -- I've *finally* found someone who could explain what had happened
to foil their dreams of flight. I've never, ever been able to understand
this all-to-common occurrence -- and there are other good reasons to quit
flying, for sure -- but I have often wondered if this kind of scare during
training isn't happening more often than we know about?

(And before you dismiss a drifting take-off as being non-life-threatening,
see: http://www.ntsb.gov/ntsb/GenPDF.asp?id=CHI05FA080&rpt=p This is an
accident that happened in nearby West Union, Iowa, earlier this summer, when
a low-time pilot in a Cherokee 235 drifted off the runway centerline,
bounced in the weeds, flipped the plane, and killed himself and his two
passengers.)

It was with a heavy heart and a feeling of dismay that I bid our guest
farewell. Perhaps it was for the best that he quit flying, but I couldn't
help but think that he had given up too soon, and that with a little extra
guidance he could have made a good pilot.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"