other, stories

I have a little story to tell. It starts just like one my regular summertime days here in fairbanks–I get up around 8, eat a bowl of cereal, brush my teeth, go to the coffee shop to get coffee (surprise, right?), read the comics and get the weather report for my flight lesson, which is usually at 10. The weather looked good. I was excited to go fly–the previous day, I’d done well with my landings and I was eager to do it again. We did pattern work, and sure enough I was landing safely and correctly each time–Forest* didn’t even have to say anything, or touch any of the controls. It felt good. At the end of the lesson Forest says: why don’t you come back at 1:30? We’ll do another lesson. Cool, I thought! If I keep this up, I’ll be able to land really well every time in a week or two, then maybe I’ll be able to solo!

I come back at 1:30, and we do more pattern work. It went well, just like the morning lesson. I was close to getting my landing on target each time, and it felt good. At the end of the lesson, for some reason, Forest asked for plane right after we landed–which is funky, usually he lets me taxi and park. Funky, but ok, I’m sure there’s a good reason. I take my hands and feet off the controls and Forest takes the plane. He fast-taxis (like taxiing, but, well, fast. about 40mph) down the runway, turns on the taxiway, then immediately pulls off the taxiway into some random parking spot. Funky, but ok, I’m sure there’s some reason. Forest pulls out airplane logbook and logs the flight, puts it away, then pulls out my logbook from the behind-the-seat wall pocket and begins to log the flight lesson. Funky, but ok, I’m sure there’s some–oh. Uh. Now he has turned to the back of my logbook and is filling in the student solo-flight forms. Oh. Ohhh. At this point, I say something like “Ummm..Forest..you’ve got my gears turning here..I’m kinda wondering..” and he smirks for a moment, then finishes filling out the form.

“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. You need three takeoffs and landings–come back and pick me up when you’re done. Don’t forget, you need to call ground to ask to taxi for takeoff. Oh and hang on a second, I need to get my coat. Ok, go have fun.”

And with that, Forest hopped out of the plane, closed the door, and lit a cigarette.

DSCF4981
That’s my logbook. See the second line up, where it says “solo?”
*”Forest,” i.e. Forest Kirst, CFII, is the flight instructor I’ve been learning from. He is outstanding.