Taking a different path to awesomeness

Brace yourself. I’m going to go off on a tangent for a bit. Not so far off the beaten path that you’re likely to get lost or take offense. Still, I think it’s time we took a slightly different look at this aeronautical pursuit we enjoy so much. Because the traditional route leaves out so many folks who would like to participate but, for one reason or another, can’t.

We can fix that.

First, we have to acknowledge that learning to fly and earning a pilot certificate are two entirely different things. The first pilots, the truly bravest of us, were un-certificated. The FAA didn’t exist. Its predecessor the CAA didn’t exist. Certification didn’t exist. In fact, the U.S. government didn’t start issuing pilot certificates (or licenses) until 1927, nearly three decades after heavier than air machines had been taking to the air.

Next, we would be wise to accept that flying is relatively easy. Heck, a kid can do it. Building the knowledge base that allows us to fly safely is a lifelong pursuit. Learning, studying, and pursuing a greater understanding of the various topics a pilot needs to know never, ever ends.

Flying is, at its core, mostly about risk mitigation. How do I, or you, or anyone take to the skies without accepting that a certain amount of risk goes hand-in-hand with this aeronautical adventure? Our goal is to be aware of those risks, to address them individually and as a whole. Ultimately, we seek to reduce those risks to the point that they are negligible, nearly non-existent.

In my earliest days as a CFI, I took on a student pilot who had been flying for more than 20 years. Let’s call him Jim. Jim was a fairly proficient pilot. He had some bad habits and a few areas of unfortunate ignorance. He was a reasonably good pilot, though. Which didn’t really come as much of a surprise to me once I found out that Jim owned an airplane, flew regularly, and was only seeking flight instruction because a friend told him he’d turn Jim in to the authorities if he didn’t get an actual pilot certificate.

Yes, there are people in the world who fly without the benefit of a pilot certificate. Some might think this impossible, but it is not. Truthfully, it’s not even hard.

That certificate we pilots are so proud of, and rightly so, provides not one gram of lift to get us airborne. It does not improve power output, fuel economy, lessen drag, or decrease weight. In the aeronautical sense, it has no actual value. Yet many of us, perhaps most of us, see the pilot certificate as an absolute requirement for those who dare to take to the skies at the controls of an aircraft.

I’m pleased to report that Jim successfully completed his private pilot practical test on his first try. His success was my success. Jim was the first student I ever signed off for a practical test and he did me proud. Granted that success came after some coaching, the correction of a few curiously bad habits, and the introduction of some basics that had escaped his notice to that point. My student went home with a temporary ticket in his pocket and the legal privilege to fly his airplane without the risk of his friends turning him in. I learned something important from our time together.

Being a CFI is not all about helping students earn a certificate or rating. It’s not just a pathway to a thicker logbook or a more impressive paycheck. It can also be about introducing others to flight in a hands-on manner that enriches their life in ways that dreaming of flying just can’t.

A year or so after working with Jim, I flew with an older gentleman who had washed out of pilot training in World War II with a punctured ear drum. By the time I met him he’d retired from his business and was ready to finally realize his lifelong dream to fly. He had the time. He had the money. He had the drive. The boxes were checked, all good.

I enjoyed flying with him very much. I found it far less enjoyable to have to explain that I would never be able to solo him, as he was beginning to show signs of dementia. Nothing catastrophic, but there were times when he just couldn’t remember what to do and so he did nothing. That’s not a desirable quality in a pilot. Student or otherwise.

Surprisingly enough, my student took the news well. He’d faced disappointments over the course of his life. This was certainly a blow, but not an earth-shatteringly debilitating one. He asked a pertinent question, which impressed me greatly. He simply wanted to know if he could continue to take lessons, to fly, knowing he would always have a CFI at his side.

The answer to that question is of course.

And so, we did. He lived his dream to fly with his own hands on the controls. The fact that I was along for the ride and available to keep him safe if needed was no big deal. He flew. His lifelong goal had been realized.

Being a part of that process feels pretty darned good, let me tell you.

Over the years I’ve flown with and instructed a number of people who have never even attempted to obtain a pilot certificate. Some knew they weren’t eligible from the start of our training.

Perhaps because of a medical issue. Or maybe because of some questionable decision-making in their youth that left them with an official record that would haunt them for years to come.

In some cases, it was just an issue of anxiety, a lack of the emotional stability needed to handle stressful situations in an organized fashion, should the need ever arise.

It made no difference to me. They wanted to learn to fly. They were aviation enthusiasts who wanted to experience flight first-hand, even knowing that they’d never fly solo or earn their certificate.

In some ways the role of a CFI can be to spread the love of flight. To encourage a deepening of the enthusiasm folks feel toward flight, and aircraft, and airports in general.

To my mind, broadening the pool of aviation enthusiasts is noble work. Even if a percentage of those folks will never fly on their own. They’ve flown. And that memory lasts with them for a good long time. That’s a win in my book.