Flying
I started taking flying lessons this week. Being in the Bay Area, a little extra care was in order to choose a place to learn that didn't have me dodging jets half the time. I did some research on flight schools, emailed a pilot I used to work with for suggestions, asked around and settled on going out of Livermore Muncipal Airport -- relatively good weather, just outside the busy air traffic area and has a school with the required quirk factor.
And actually, to be most correct, I started taking flying lessons about 17 years ago. I just ran out of money when I was young and dumb (dumber?). So, I took 17 years...off...to...think about it. Or something.
I'm learning in a Cessna 152. Now, I'm 6'4" and my flight instructor is about 6'2". However, the inside of a 152 is much more suited to Tom Cruise and the creepy lady from Poltergeist. We literally have to fold ourselves into the plane and then unfold ourselves out. Human origami. Hope no one has a camera.
The other thing about where I'm learning is that it's a school that specializes in unusual training -- quirk. For instance, I'm in a Cessna 152, which is about as basic a plane as you can find...but this particular version is modified to do aerobatics. That was made crystal clear when my instructor showed me the red handles dangling near each door. He told me not to pull them because they make the doors instantly fall off. "A few of the guys like to wear parachutes while doing some unusual things in this plane," he said.
Well, okay then.
So, lesson #1 was a blast. Lesson #2 coming up tomorrow.
I will try not to pull the red handles.
Comments
More military/WW II related recollection...remember that great picture book he had in the room that us boys in the class must have poured through hundreds of times...I think he rescued it out of the trash, someone had cut out the pictures they wanted and then was done with it (as cool as some of the pictures were, I was always so curious what pictures we didn't get to see). What happened to it??