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middle of a check ride. I grope around for a bit and cannot find one labeled as described by Tim, so he says, “Here, let me look for it.”
I switch back to “pilot flying,” while he reaches awkwardly across my lap to find the errant breaker. As it turns out, it is labeled differently than the checklist describes, but he eventually finds it and we complete the items required to re-boot the autopilot.
Obviously, this part of the flight was not on the prescribed set of check ride maneuvers, so I glance back into the cabin where our DPE is sitting, and to my alarm, see his expression appears less than pleased. In fact, he is a bit pale and looks unhappy. I can’t decide if he dislikes my flying or is ticked off that we departed from the briefed check ride maneuvers – or does that slight pallor suggest he is sick? I give him a thumbs up and a questioning look, and he just swallows hard and grimaces. Whatever the problem is, it does not look good for my check ride.
Our next maneuver requires setting up for a holding pattern at Port Angeles (KCLM) to be followed by an engine failure, an ILS and a missed approach at which time one of the engines is supposed to fail at the worst possible time – when you advance power close to the ground on the go-around. What you have to really watch for is heading and pitch control because as the “good” engine comes up to full power, it tends to change the airplane’s heading rather quickly unless you are right on it with opposite rudder and a slight bank into the good engine. Of course, you also have to be calling “missed approach,” hitting the “go-around” button on the throttle, pitching up to get a positive rate of climb and then instructing the co-pilot to pull up the gear and most of the flaps and start the missed approach checklist. It feels like way too many things to do at once, but like the proverbial duck who is calmly swimming across the lake with its hidden webbed feet moving like crazy, I seem to get the items done in correct sequence and within limits. Leveling out at the correct missed approach altitude and turning the autopilot back on, I look back for approval from our DPE, only to see him frowning. Again, I think, “Uh oh, this is not going well at all.”
We circle back around, complete a holding pattern on one engine, then another approach with the autopilot off, which seems to work out (at least to Tim and myself). We then head back to KBVS, our home airport, for the last approach; this one being what used to be called a “non-precision” approach as opposed to an ILS. The weather at KBVS is down to 400 and 1, and we break out at minimums, at which time the I click the autopilot off, and say, “Runway in sight, landing.” Tim replies, “Checklist complete, gear down, runway clear” in proper CRM fashion. I have the airspeed almost nailed at Vref, and as luck would have it, proceed to make a “greaser” of a landing on the wet pavement. When clear of the runway, we finish the after landing checklist and I again glance back at the DPE, looking for what I hope is an encouraging nod after my great landing, but he appears even more unhappy.
I pull the Lear up to our line gal Gwyn, and stop the airplane so gradually you cannot tell when movement ceased, then shut the engines down. As we are finish- ing the checklist, the DPE opens the door and heads into the FBO without saying a word. When they do that, it just has to be “pink slip” time, and I start to wonder just how and where we screwed up.
But, on entering the FBO myself 10 minutes later, our DPE is not sitting at a desk writing on pink paper, but rather is nowhere to be seen. So, I ask Lori the receptionist where he went, and she just nods toward the bathroom door. After another 10 minutes or so Rob, exits the bathroom looking pale and shaken, and says “good check ride,” then promptly makes a 180 back to the bathroom. A little while later, he emerges to say the
club sandwich he had at lunch did not go down well, and he feels too sick to complete the following check ride with one of our other pilots. I ask, “You sure it was not my flying that made you airsick?” He musters as much humor as he can and replies no, it was definitely the club sandwich. He says he would like to go back to the hotel and will finish the paperwork tomorrow when he feels better. We arrange for a ride to take him there, and that evening I call his room to make sure he is doing okay. He appreci- ates my concern and says he should be just fine by the morning.
The next day, I show up at the airport and see Rob still looking a little under the weather but working away on his laptop in order to get my new temporary license printed out. After a few minutes, he hands me two copies of my new li- cense (just in case one gets stolen), and says, “Nice check ride. You guys are a bunch of real professionals.”
As I get ready to leave, we shake hands, and he says though he is feeling well enough to finish the remaining two check rides, he will never again eat a club sand- wich at our airport café.
Kevin Ware is an ATP who also holds CFI, MEII and helicop- ter ratings, has more than 10,000 hours and is typed in several dif- ferent business jets. He
has been flying for a living on and off since he was 20, and currently works as a contract pilot for various corporations in the Seattle area. When not working as a pilot he is employed part time as an emergency and urgent care physician. He can be reached at kevin.ware2@aol.com.
Recurrent Training Center 1/8 H
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