May is a special aviation month for me. On May 30, 2010, I soloed in a Piper J-3 Cub and my completely unplanned, unexpected venture into the general aviation industry began.
To commemorate the occasion, here is a little story I wrote several years ago summarizing my very memorable entrance into piloting – one I surprisingly have yet to share here. I hope you enjoy!
Four days. I soloed in four days. Not even an entire workweek had passed, and my world changed. And it was not until afterward that I realized soloing that quickly was not the norm, especially in a Piper J-3 Cub. But in actuality, no part of my entry into flight training could really be considered normal today.
I grew up around general aviation from the get-go, with multiple pilots in the family and a frequent backseat passenger in our Bonanza. I undoubtedly enjoyed flying, but the idea of actually piloting was intimidating. I preferred just to gaze out the window, enjoy the view and sort through my adolescent thoughts. Plus, I had several other hobbies and interests to distract me. But little did I know, the so-called flying bug would catch up to me nonetheless.
In 2010, like most college students, my bank account was low and the need for a job was high. So, while home for summer break, my friend and I decided to apply at the new local airport restaurant together (Stearman Field Bar & Grill at 1K1). A week later, I was offered the waitress position I applied for. But then another offer came I was in no way expecting: flight lessons.
Airport owner, and family friend, Dwayne Clemens wanted to teach me to fly – for fun. A proposal that is unheard of nowadays. But lucky for me, Dwayne is not known to be conventional. I will never forget the big grin on his face when he plopped down in front of me at the restaurant as I filled out paperwork and said, “Let’s teach you to fly in the Cub and surprise your Dad.” Needless to say, there was no turning him down. I began flying the next week.
We flew two flights a day for the first four days – one at sunrise and one at sundown to avoid the relentless Kansas heat and wind. I practiced taxiing, stalls, steep turns, slow flight, and takeoffs and landings on the airport’s grass runway. The lightness and ease of the Cub’s controls and maneuverability amazed me. No complex buttons, knobs or radio posed intimidation. I had only the feel of the airplane and its handful of basic instruments. Quick, regular scans of the panel and then my eyes went back outside (a fundamental lesson I am eternally grateful for).
On the fourth day, Dwayne and I were wrapping up the evening with touch and goes. After completing three smooth landings, we were on downwind for a full stop when he asked how I felt about soloing. Butterflies instantly fluttered in my stomach. Was I ready? Although it had only been four days, I built up eight hours in my logbook and felt comfortable with the airplane. (Growing up riding horses, tractors and dirt bikes assuredly aided my confidence and comfortability). And it would be cool to solo on my Dad’s birthday…yes, let’s do it.
One magnificent go-around later, I made an unforgettable phone call to my father with the exciting news. His resounding “WHAT,” followed by nervous laughter and speechlessness, gave me my first clue I might have accomplished something a bit untraditional. But once the shock subsided and words came back, he was incredibly proud. He then demanded to speak with Dwayne and requested no more solos for another 10 hours. We obliged.
Excellent story and photo, Rebecca : )