Throwing Caution to the Wing, and Going Solo.

I soloed a full scale airplane today; a 1981 Cessna 172 P Model to be precise. I went out flying with my instructor, and as we’re taxiing back, he freaks out on me: “AHH STOP THE PLANE! STOP THE PLANE!” So I jam on the breaks and look at him with probably the most “What the hell” face ever. He’s like, “I’m getting out, latch the door behind me.

I was ungodly nervous. I’ve been delaying my solo not because I’m not capable but because I don’t really fly often. I just wanted to make sure I was super sharp so I could nail it down. So I taxi out, and get the old, “Cessna 53751, Position and Hold on Runway 22R” For those who don’t understand the jargon, you just go to the middle of the runway and sit there until they say go. It’s not that common, and it really made me nervous just sitting there with 5000 feet of runway in front of me and no one sitting next me.

After what seemed like an eternity, I hear: “Cessna 53751, Clear for takeoff, 22R”. I hesitated a moment, said “TallyHo!” to myself, and advanced the throttle. I was a nervous busy bee going down that runway, but as soon as the wheels lifted off the ground, I was ice man. Cold water ran through my veins. It was awesome. I had total and complete confidence … which is good because if I didn’t I think that I’d have been in BIG trouble.

I did two of the nicest squeaker touch and goes of my life, and turned it around for a full stop landing. I’m still buzzing about it now. It was one of the most exhilerating things I’ve ever done. I feel like such a bad ass.

Next: Getting my grubby paws on someone’s Extra or something.

The picture says it all. I’m still walking around like I’ve nailed a porn star or something. I totally understand why pilots are such cocky fuckers now.