Look Out, Red Baron! (Maggie)

Meet my newest friend. I'm calling her Piper, because I'm a fan of Charmed, Witches, nicknames for vehicles, and besides, it says "Piper" on her tail fin. (Probably not the technically correct term for it.)

So anyway, yesterday I celebrated the first day of my favorite month, (October, of course) by taking my first flying lesson. Yep, I flew Piper! And it was amazing, exhilarating, scary, exciting, fun, frustrating and wonderful. What an adventure!

I left the house a half hour before my scheduled flight time. I'd been warned that if the weather was bad, we might have to cancel, but up until the time I left, we were still on. It had been raining on and off, but had cleared a bit. Then, as soon as I left the house, the clouds gathered, it grew dark, and within five minutes, it was absolutely pouring. I felt a rush of disappointment, but then I remembered--things always work out well for me. So I drove along, repeating that mantra, just knowing it would all be fine, and it rained and rained. And then, about five minutes before I got to my destination, the clouds parted and the sun broke through. The rain stopped, and I thought, "See that? Things always work out well for me." And I drove the rest of the way, smiling, while a little voice kept asking me if I was really going to do this thing.

I arrived, and was greeted by my flight instructor, Jim Spaller. I was nervous. I went outside and took a few pictures of "my" plane. Then Jim came out to join me, and I followed him around the plane doing a pre-flight check. And then he showed me how to climb up on the wing, how to open the hatch, how to get inside. I was a little surprised that he had me get in first, since we entered from the passenger side (I promise, I'll learn the lingo as I go along.) But he said, "Yes, that's right, you get in first, and slide over into the pilot's seat. You're going to do most of the flying."

Ooookay.
So I got in, and this is what was looking at me. (Yes, I took the camera into the plane. And my purse. Next time I'll leave the purse behind, but I don't think I'll ever leave the camera.) So I sit down, and gaze at this control panel that looks to me like it's plenty complicated enough to belong on the Bridge of the Starship Enterprise. And Jim gets in beside me, and he tells me to put on my headset and fasten my seatbelt. My first instinct was to make a joke about how little good that seatbelt was going to do either of us if he was really serious about letting me do most of the flying--but I bit my lip and buckled up. We did further pre-flight checking, and he explained some things to me, the most memorable of which was that I would be steering the thing with my feet.

My FEET. There are pedals on the floor, of course, one for each foot. If you push on the lower half of the left pedal, you turn left--right pedal, you turn right. Top portions of the pedals are brakes, which you can also use for sharp turns. I really don't intend to be making too many sharp turns. And then he has me start the plane--there's actually a key! Who knew?--and with my heart in my throat, and my hands on my thighs to try to keep them from using the--oh, what did he call the steering wheel? It had a name. Anyway, I'm to use only my feet, and drive this thing out to the runway, trying to keep it on the yellow line. With my feet. It felt like walking a tightrope for the first time. I was very wobbly and uncertain. Of course I was wobbly and uncertain, I was steering with my freaking FEET!

I got through that part, but I feel like I should practice in a big Walmart parking lot for ten hours a day for a week or so, and then I might get used to that steering with the feet thing. And then we got to the runway, and he had me throttle up, and then helped me steer and told me what to do, and we went very fast, and then we took off. We actually took off!

It was so incredibly thrilling. But mostly in hindsight. During the actual flight, I was so nervous and paying so much attention to what Jim was saying and what I was doing, that I realized much later, I didn't relax enough to really enjoy it. And I will make sure I do next time. I was flying, and the sun was shining and the rolling hills of Cortland County were spread out around and beneath me all dressed up in their glorious Fall colors. I wish I had taken just a moment to relax and breathe and look. But again, I was as tense as a cat on a hot tin roof.

We climbed, and we descended. We turned using just the wheel, and using just the pedals, and then using both. He messed up the trim and had me adjust it again. It's a handle overhead that you turn clockwise when you want to go up, or counterclockwise when you want to go down (I'm sure Jim's not going to get it if I start saying "deosil" and "widdershins," Witches' terms for those directions.) It makes it easier to pull or push on the wheel which isn't called a wheel when doing those maneuvers. He also showed me how to keep the horizon just within sight when I want to fly level.

When it was time to land, it felt as if no time at all had passed, and then it felt like, "Goddess, please don't let him make me land this thing! I'll kill us both, and Piper with us!" But he didn't. Oh, he let me think I was doing some of it, but I wasn't. I turned us around and lined up with the runway, and throttled down and lowered the plane, but he was definitely keeping it level and working those directional pedals once we touched down.

I've taught five daughters to drive. It's terrifying. I can't even imagine how much worse it is teaching someone to fly. You must want to take over constantly. But I guess some people are just good at this sort of thing. Thank goodness!

There was a lot to take in, and it's going to take a lot of time and practice to become even adequate, much less proficient at this. I took home a boatload of books and my very first flight log to keep track of my hours and things. There will be study, lots of reading, homework. But that'll be the easy part.

I'm so amazed at myself and really proud to be doing this. Excited too! You know, for years, I refused to fly at all. When the Romance Writers convention was in Chicago, I drove. In DC, I drove. In Orlando, I drove. In NYC, I took the train. Drove to Boston, Drove to Jersey. Drove everywhere. I wasn't afraid to fly. I was just fairly certain that I would crash and die if I did, and I still had kids to raise.

Then one day, while making plans for a convention in New Orleans, one of my friends asked in frustration why on earth I wouldn't just fly. And the question made me realize that the feeling of certain doom was gone. I didn't know where it had gone, or why it had gone. Just that it had gone. I no longer had any resistance whatsoever. I assumed that maybe the time when flying would be dangerous to me had passed, chalked it up to some metaphysical sixth sense, and went ahead and bought tickets. And from that first flight, I knew I wanted to learn to fly a plane myself. I loved it. I sat by the window, enjoyed the view, and felt as if my heart was soaring along with the jet.

And now I'm doing it. And it's amazing.

This is one of the things on my soon to be created "Bucket List;" the list of things I want to do before I die. I've never really given much thought to such a list before, but now that I've done this, and seen dear friends facing life threatening illnesses with courage gained from lives well and truly lived to the fullest, I've decided to make one, and becoming a good pilot is right on top. I'm going to have to give some thought to what else is going on my list.

What's on yours? What are some of the things you've always wanted to do, but never done?

Hugs,
Maggie