My first flying lesson

One day as I was washing airplanes, this young girl, I think she was Midge's daughter, was telling everyone that she was going to parachute from an airplane for the first time later that day. After she had made her jump, everyone applauded. Arthur said that he wasn't going to let a woman best him so he checked out a parachute with the understanding that if he used it, the cost would be fifteen dollars for repacking. Midge took him up in the Piper Cub. As the Piper flew overhead, the right wing dipped toward the ground and we could see arthur fall from the craft, his chute opened and we all applauded. Upon landing, Arthur broke his ankle. When Midge landed, he taxied up to our clubhouse and told us that Arthur changed his mind at the last moment, so he did a sharp bank and Arthur fell out. We took him to the hospital for his injuries and he could not stop talking about his feat. We were proud of Arthur. He walks with a limp even today.

Bubba had a talent for flying aerobatics in his PT-19. He would put on a show over Horsehoe Lake most every Sunday, after which he would fly over the field inverted. Once he flew less than 50 feet and was grounded for 30 days by Midge.

Bubba's favorite landing technique was to side slip on his final approach; that is, to lose altitude rapidly by flying sideways and downward along the lateral axis.

When I was 16, Bubba wanted to teach me to fly. At the time, I had never driven a car, but I was ready. I purchased me a used flight jacket, a pair of goggles, a flight helmet, and a pilot's logbook. I wasn't ready for the white scarf.

I had already passed various tests on the link trainer so I was ready for the PT-19. Bubba showed me how to pre-flight inspect the aircraft and how to properly wear a parachute. Bubba would check the aircraft before each flight. He would start with the magneto switch, making sure it was off, check the gas tanks on both wings, then we would start at the propeller, pull it through to assure the engine was free to rotate and wasn't "oil locked," check for gas or oil leaks, loose nuts, and then walk around the aircraft checking for torn fabric, leaks, movable control surfaces, and flat tires. Then he showed me how to crank start the aircraft. He would climb into the rear cockpit and yell to me "switch off."

I would check to see if anyone was near the propeller and yell to him "clear!" then crank the engine a couple of revolutions, prime the engine with gas, and yell "contact!" Bubba would turn the magneto switch to on and reply "contact," I would crank the engine until she started. Then I would stow the crank in its compartment and climb into the front cockpit (student) and strap myself in.

Bubba would increase power until we started to roll from the apron to the taxi strip. He would "S" turn (for straight ahead visibility) to the runway. At the end of the runway, Bubba would hold his brakes, increase power, and check out all engine functions, check out control surface movements, reduce power, and look for other aircraft on their final approach to landing. Most small airfields didn't have control towers as we have today and it was the pilot's responsibility to check for incoming aircraft. With no incoming traffic, Bubba would pull to the runway, lower his flaps, and apply full power. After we were airborne, we would exit the landing pattern and head toward Horseshoe Lake.

Bubba was able to communicate with me through this tube attached to my helmet at the ears. I wasn't able to communicate with him except by using hand signals. Each cockpit had its own set of flight controls and instruments.

Bubba gave me my first instructions; "Place your feet on the rudder pedals and take control of the stick, fly straight and level, keeping the same compass heading." I grabbed the stick as I jammed my feet on the rudder pedals. The PT-19's nose suddenly rose into the air and its right wing dropped as we headed for another compass course. "Big shot!" he yelled. "Let go of the controls." "Relax" he said, "this airplane will fly itself," "you don't have to hold it in the air." "Look at me" he said. I looked back and Bubba was holding both of his hands in the air. My first reaction was "My God!" "Who is flying this plane?" Again he said, "This plane will fly itself." "As a pilot, you can change its direction, altitude, attitude, and speed; otherwise, it will fly till it runs out of gas. Then it will glide back to earth. Now, take over the controls, gently, hold the stick with your fingertips as if it was an egg, keep the nose and the wing tips in line with the horizon" he said.

"Remember this, we are not alone in the sky. We share this air space with other airplanes so keep on the lookout. Look above, below, behind, and to both sides always."

We returned to the airport and I entered one-half hour in my logbook with the notation "straight and level, scan the sky, and hold the controls gently."

During the next few lessons, I learned gentle left turns, gentle right turns, climbing right and left, gentle dive turns left and right, gliding and practiced landings on clouds. Bubba would point to a cloud and instruct me to pretend that it was the runway. We would always be approximately 1000 feet above this cloud and it would be located at about 11 o'clock low relative to the aircraft. I would make a 45-degree turn to the left and look for other airplanes in the downward leg of this imaginary landing pattern. Gentle right turn into the downwid leg. While descending, I would fly beyond the cloud before I made a left turn into the base leg. "You're too high, lose altitude" Bubba would say. "Don't forget your carburetor heat. If you ice up, you're dead" with the cloud off my left wing. I would turn towards it on final approach while trying to lose altitude. "You're too high, go around again." After a couple more patterns, I started to feel more relaxed, but needed more practice. Bubba told me that I was ready for "steep 360 degree and 720 degree turns." "Okay, take the controls" he would say. "Upon my command, I want you to make a steep turn to the right." "I want your wing to be at least 45 degrees to the ground." "Keep your nose on the horizon until you've completed 360 degrees on the compass." "Understood?" I nodded affirmative. "Okay, execute." I dropped the wing about 10 degrees and went into a right turn. "Get it all the way over" he said, and I could feel the pressure he was applying from his set of controls. "Your nose is dropping." "Follow the horizon." "Get your foot off the rudder." "Watch your compass." "Straighten her out, you're past 360 degrees." "Okay, now let's try it again." Upon landing, I entered 360-degree and 720-degree turns. Not too good.