Page 32 - Volume 20 Number 8

30 • TWIN & TURBINE AUGUST 2016his castle doing whatever 20,000 hour pilot/magicians do. But, near the end of the classic movie, as the wizard is drifting away in his balloon that had escaped its mooring, he shouts to Dorothy that he doesn’t actually know how to fly the thing. Perhaps the reason he ended up in The Emerald City in the first place. After his earlier “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” reveal, it’s yet another admission that he issimply a “humbug”. As a vagabond fortuneteller in Dorothy’s waking life, he is but a pretender. He is no clairvoyant, no wizard and he is no pilot. The notice on his door that reads “no one gets in to see the wizard” is nothing more than his camouflaged line of defense.And so it is with the sign above my office. The words are an admis- sion, my reveal that I am but a hum- bug. I can only pretend to be The Wizard. And try to not get bitten by fate as I practice my craft. Al- ways watching for the boogey man so as to avoid getting caught with my britches down, having done some- thing stupid. Those that have been in airplanes for a while know that no matter how much you study, practice and continue to learn, the volume of knowledge available and variety of skills obtainable is a nearly unsur- mountable mountain. There is always new information, a new system or procedure, always someone smarter, faster, more coordinated, more of a“natural” pilot or more proficient than you. And there is always luck, destiny, fate and the opportunity for our competence to intersect with another’s incompetence. Eventually, bad things will happen and we must overcome them before the ground arises to smite us. Like analysis over passion in literature, we suppress some of the romanticism of flight in order to remain vigilant.Winged HumbugThat’s how I fly and write, or hope to: with my heart on my sleeve, per- haps, but vigilant with my brain fully engaged. Sacrificing a little of the ro- manticism to achieve more precision. Endeavoring to actually become who I pretend to be. I’m not smart enough or quick enough to be cavalier, but airplanes and I are friends. And if a glitch develops in that friendship, I know it’s my fault, not the machine’s. I’m fortunate to do what I love for a living, and I know it. You, me and Frank Sinatra: doing it our way. En- joying the view while we practice to