Fast forward six years, Jim (my first husband) and I moved to the small mountain town of Big Bear in the San Bernardino mountains of Southern California. I decided to take night community college courses that were held at the high school. One of the classes was worth 4 credits, Private Pilot Ground school, taught by the local flight school owner, Mike S. I signed up for the course for the college credits, but I got so much more. First, because we were new to Big Bear, it introduced me to new people and it lead to me working at the airport, but I wasn’t working for money, I was working for flight hours. Getting a private pilot license isn’t exactly cheap. You have to pay for the plane, the fuel, and the instructor, and if you’re on your game it takes a minimum of 40 hours to get your license. So I finished the college course, worked in the office and drove the fuel truck to earn my flight hours to find my head in the clouds.
My Second First Flight…
On the weekdays, the flight school also did “bank runs” flying papers, receipts, etc from the local bank branches to the main branch in Burbank, Ca. The flight went from Big Bear to Burbank then back to Big Bear. You could hitch a ride down the mountain or go along for the round trip, and even get a little training in. It was an evening flight that you could see the expanse of the Inland Empire and almost all of The LA area. The view is extraordinary as you realize how small you are when running around on the ground, like watching ants on a mission.
Before I started working at the airport, I took advantage of going for the round trip flight, I thought it’d be just like the scenic flight I took in high school, I was going along for the ride and the view. The night I went, Mikey G was flying the bank run and we were dropping off a passenger in Yucaipa and a short flight to a tiny desert airport. In Big Bear, I got in the backseat and was handed a headset, while Jan and Mikey G piloted us into the skies. I sat quietly in the back and watched them talk, but couldn’t hear them. I figured they had a switch to separate the front seats from the back seats so passengers didn’t interrupt the radio calls. they would turn around and look at me, I’d smile and look out the window. After all, that’s why I went for the flight.
When we landed, taxied, and stopped the engine for Jan to get out in Yucaipa, they both asked if I was ok. I didn’t answer or talk during the flight they both thought I was either scared to death or going to be sick. That’s when I found out a headset had two plugs that go into the intercom system, one for speaking and one for hearing. Apparently, when I plugged in I only plugged in the mic.
Mikey G told me to get in the front left seat for the remainder of the flight, and as soon as I was buckled in, he started turning knobs, moving handles, turning the key and the propeller started to spin as the engine roared to life. He told me to put my hands on my lap as I tried grabbing the yoke and feet on the pedals as we taxied out I kept trying to grab the yoke thinking it’s like a car steering wheel, but on the ground, you steer the plane with the pedals. When you add pressure to the left pedal the airplane moves to the left and the same for the right pedal. then he said, it’s your plane, fly us out of here. Wait…what?? I’m along for the ride, not my first lesson. Instantly my hands were sweaty, my heart was racing, and my mind telling me we’re gonna die! I immediately said no, no, no, and he said well I’m not going to, if you don’t we’ll crash. He was joking of course, but I didn’t know it at the time. As we taxied into position for take-off, he added power and the plane began racing down the runway, it was noisy, and rough barreling down the asphalt. In the right seat Mikey G was as cool as a cucumber and calmly told me what to do as the airplane felt “ squirrelly” he gave step-by-step instructions to keep the plane in the center of the runway, as the speed built up the plane begged to get airborne and the wind beneath its wings. Mikey G now allowed me to put my hands on the yoke and told me to gently pull it towards me, I could feel the plane ride smother as the nose wheel raised from the ground, and even more so as the main gear followed, the wings dipped a little side to side as I figured out the sensitivity to keep them level, which is a skill all in itself. As we gained altitude I became aware of how tightly I was gripping the yoke, like holding onto it for dear life. The yoke is built with finger grips built in, but I think yokes actually start out smooth and flight students like me grip the yoke so tightly we actually create the finger holds. They call that white knuckle flying. As we climbed to altitude and my panic started to subside, he let me know he was on the controls with me the whole time.