A Philosophical Interlude
This evening, I saw a special screening of One Six Right by Brian Terwilliger. On the surface, it's a movie about an airport in southern California, but it's really about general aviation, and why we who love it, love it so.
At one point, late in the movie, I became homesick. However, my homesickness was not for our house in DeLand, though I'll be happy to see it again, and miss those I love who are there; and it wasn't for some previous abode. It wasn't really 1C5, Clow International Airport, although that was closer, and it wasn't really the other airports I've been to, though they figured in as well.
What I was homesick for was the airplanes. I miss good old 4661B, the white and blue Cessna 152 I first flew solo; and it's tiedown mate, the beater Archer II that i'd take on longer trips because no-one else rented it; the various Cessna 172's at the flying club up in Waukegan; even Steve's "restored" Ercoupe with the leaky altimeter plumbing and no rudder pedals.
One has a relationship with every airplane one flies. Whether it's compensating for a plane's shortcomings, finding out what she (and you) can really do, nursing a sick bird home, or letting that bird salve your wounds, every plane leaves its mark in your logbook and in your soul. That's a part of the fascination of aircraft. Do you ever wonder why it is that pilots look into the cockpits of airplanes? It's not like they're going to find any suprises there. But it is where you can get an idea of what this plane might be like to fly. "Is she forgiving? Is she hot-tempered? Does she need a firm hand, or a light touch?" It's where the pilot and the plane pursue their relationship, always communicating, hopefully cooperating, and sometimes -- if you're lucky -- merging into a greater self, one that soars, and dances on the wind.
-- Mike
At one point, late in the movie, I became homesick. However, my homesickness was not for our house in DeLand, though I'll be happy to see it again, and miss those I love who are there; and it wasn't for some previous abode. It wasn't really 1C5, Clow International Airport, although that was closer, and it wasn't really the other airports I've been to, though they figured in as well.
What I was homesick for was the airplanes. I miss good old 4661B, the white and blue Cessna 152 I first flew solo; and it's tiedown mate, the beater Archer II that i'd take on longer trips because no-one else rented it; the various Cessna 172's at the flying club up in Waukegan; even Steve's "restored" Ercoupe with the leaky altimeter plumbing and no rudder pedals.
One has a relationship with every airplane one flies. Whether it's compensating for a plane's shortcomings, finding out what she (and you) can really do, nursing a sick bird home, or letting that bird salve your wounds, every plane leaves its mark in your logbook and in your soul. That's a part of the fascination of aircraft. Do you ever wonder why it is that pilots look into the cockpits of airplanes? It's not like they're going to find any suprises there. But it is where you can get an idea of what this plane might be like to fly. "Is she forgiving? Is she hot-tempered? Does she need a firm hand, or a light touch?" It's where the pilot and the plane pursue their relationship, always communicating, hopefully cooperating, and sometimes -- if you're lucky -- merging into a greater self, one that soars, and dances on the wind.
-- Mike