Editor’s Note: Welcome to the final installment of Chris McGonegle’s experience as a rusty pilot – a relatable category for many. Chris is an Instrument-rated Commercial pilot and product manager with Sporty’s Pilot Shop.
Rust Free… and Sharing It with Others
As a new homeowner I’ve learned that a yard left unattended will quickly take advantage of such lack of devotion and make a house stand out for the wrong reasons. Similar to those persistent blades of grass is the metaphorical rust that clings to every idle pilot’s ability to fly an airplane. When a beautiful weekend day presents itself in the dog days of summer, it’s borderline criminal to skip addressing the landscape of your abode…but how come pilots don’t use the same rationale for getting airborne?
The late Chuck Yeager is quoted as saying, “The best pilots fly more than others, that’s why they’re the best.” Among other colorful quotations from the first man to travel faster than sound, this one resonates with me the most because it sets a rudimentary standard for proficiency while simultaneously offering a challenge. I’ve accepted that I’ll never be in the top 1%, 5% or even 10% of worldly pilots. Heck, I’ll probably never crack the top 25% in the United States. But I can strive for it, and within that symbolic goal, I’m assured to stay proficient and safe.
My final leap towards rust removal was a personal objective of flying once a week in the month of June last year. In southwest Ohio, June typically provides warm days that upgrade to balmy when it’s time to head home from work, with the occasional pop-up storm in the afternoon when that big ball in the sky has had plenty of time to charge the weather. To negate these worrisome storms, I scheduled all my rental time in the early bird flight blocks which also provides the advantage of mostly empty airspace.
Week one was a short jaunt to grab some coffee at a “local” air cafe while the sun was climbing over the horizon. Week two I flew to Sporty’s local practice area and got reacquainted with performance maneuvers in addition to some NAV tracking before heading into the office. Week three involved a trip to an airport frequented during my training for its 36/18 runway, almost always offering crosswind practice. The successful crab to flare was an empowering feeling and another sharpened arrow in my aviation quiver.
The joy of flying with retractable gear and a constant speed propeller added to the confidence, in addition to the smile that was on my face when we shut the engine down that day. I’ve spent many a moments over the years wondering what 1903 Orville and Wilbur would think if they were to jump in a Cessna 172 with me today. And for the duo who revolutionized the propeller, I’m confident the twisting motion of the constant speed propeller would have appeared paranormal to them.
After those four flights in June, I’d shaken the final grains of rust off my aviation competence and I considered myself a rust-free pilot.
A goal in life should always be paired to a reward. “I’d like to buy a house within a couple of years so that I can start gaining value in my monthly payments,” or “I’d like to lose weight within the next six months so that I’ll be able to fit in clothes better and be healthier.” For me the reward of becoming a rust-free pilot was the ability to share this love of flight with my significant other.
I know a few people who are marathon runners and I’ve come to realize that just as they finish one race they start preparing for the next. This isn’t necessarily because they’re gluttons for punishment; it’s more to keep their bodies in peak endurance shape and reduce the required conditioning as the next race approaches. While I’m not suggesting what I accomplished is anything similar to running 26.2 miles (honestly the thought makes my stomach quiver), but flying an airplane is a degrading skill set when not used periodically, similar to the marathon runner taking a month off from jogging.
With the removal of all my rust, I was back in peak flying shape and I wasn’t about to kick my legs up and start trading my proficiency for comfort.
I’ve been flying consistently since, in addition to setting new goals for myself and my logbook — to keep getting airborne every chance I can. Consider this an open proclamation that I will never hold the iron oxide letter on my being again. Having reflected on all the devoted time, study, sweat (literally), and monetary commitments towards earning this skill, it would be a slap in the face to my younger self not to keep this ability sharp.
Also worth mentioning again, this isn’t an ability that lacks benefits. Some of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever witnessed were from the left seat of a Cessna. Time saved by flying to a destination rather than driving can’t be overlooked. Taking in the rolling morning fog or enjoying the red, orange, and yellows of fall above the seven hills of Cincinnati is a view that even Monet would have trouble fathoming. And lastly, flying an airplane is just darn fun!
Lastly, to two men from Dayton, Ohio, named Orville and Wilbur. More than 115 years ago they laid the foundation for the millions of pilots that have followed in their footsteps, leaving the bounds of earth by powered flight. Countless industries have been improved or created thanks to these two men spending over three years tinkering with designs on that windy beach in North Carolina.
Clear skies and strong tailwinds.