The cross-country was completed but there was still a long way to go on my road (Victor Airway?) to a Private Pilot's License. My instructor Larry had warned that cross-country flying would sap my skills for the finer things in life, like departure stalls and soft-field landings. Though I knew these maneuvers fairly well, they couldn't be ignored because they were part of the actual checkride. As always, Larry's prediction was borne out, and I had to practice these things again and did, both really flying and in Flightsim.

We already went over those, though, and though I had to backtrack a little in the flight training I don't intend to here. There were three things Larry and I needed to work on. I had to finish my simulated instrument flying time under the hood. I had to begin and complete the night flying requirements. And then there was preparation for the checkride itself. In some ways this will be more like my second article in that it wasn't specifically related to Flightsim per se, but there will be a sprinkling of Flightsim references.

Larry and I needed to decide whether to tackle the hood time or the night flying first. Larry's practice was to save the night flying until near the end. Of course, I wanted to fly at night next--who wouldn't when given a choice between that and flying around with that funny thing on your head? Larry didn't agree with the FFA requirements for night flying. On some things he thought the FFA requirements were unreasonably strict, but this wasn't one of those things. He didn't think night flying should be in the private pilot curriculum at all, instead agreeing with the military philosophy not to start night training until a pilot was more experienced. Larry pointed out that there are no night solo requirements.

Larry in fact did give me a choice since he felt I was far enough along in the training, so we started on the night requirements.

A little ways on the other side of this town is the home field.

Larry and I were scheduled to fly last night. He'd emailed late last week to advise that due to some personal reasons he may not be able to go. The weather was supposed to get nasty, but some thunderstorms that were forecast never materialized. Larry called and said we'd be able to do it after all. The skies were fairly clear except for a light ground level haze. The moon was full.

Preparation for night flying mandated some changes and additions to the preflight. I'd arrived before Larry and had turned on the hangar lights. He said that it was usually better to leave those off and to just use the flashlight. He reiterated what I'd learned studying for the written, to avoid exposure to any bright lights for a half hour before the flight. I needed the flashlight anyway to look in some places. And we obviously also had to check the plane's lights.

He had me roll the plane onto the runway and stop so that I could look around and get a picture of how everything would look when we came back in to land. He told me to rotate at 55 instead of 50 to rule out any possibility of not having enough speed to get completely off and up. We climbed up to 3000 feet and just flew around some so I could get used to the new environment. He said flying at night was just like flying during the day--except you can't see anything. To the extent that one must rely more on instruments, it was like IFR flight. Obviously he was exaggerating when he said you couldn't see anything. The view was as beautiful as one could imagine. He said in some ways flying cross-country at night was easier because towns as landmarks were much easier to see. In fact, we could clearly see the lights of my hometown, nearly 30 nm to south. He said on some nights you could even see its airport's rotating beacon from that distance.

Larry told me the airplane didn't know if it was day or night; it flew the same, and had me do some maneuvers to prove his point. Then he reached up and pulled the throttle back, reporting that we'd lost the engine. Of course, losing the engine at night is one of the worst things that can happen. He said that it would be likely that the only thing I'd be able to do would be a little last second dodging of wires, fences, or trees. He also showed me that you could trim the plane full up so that it glided down at the slowest possible speed. Larry then took over and did the first landing of the evening. Then it was my turn.

Day or night, this is always a welcome sight.

"Though the wind was fairly calm right at the surface, there was a little easterly crosswind a couple hundred feet up. We were using runway 18. Larry wanted a power-on landing, meaning 1500 RPM. He had me take the plane up into the pattern and I had to crab to the east on downwind. He wanted the turn to base done sharply so the wing wouldn't be dipped down and hiding the runway for long. I got the plane configured pretty well on final. He had me leave the landing light off and use the runway lights only. He told me not to get 'hypnotized.' He's had students over focus on the lights to the extent that they've forgotten to flare and he has had to pull up the nose at the last second. I cut the power as the green threshold lights disappeared under the nose, waited as the runway lights on either side began to rise a little, and pulled back into the flare. The technique of progressively pulling back into the yoke pressure is extremely important at night, because it's hard to tell exactly when the mains will hit. We touched down softly and rolled down the runway. I had trouble getting the plane stopped at mid-runway to turn off, and Larry reminded me there was no headwind. We ended up getting in five landings before calling it quits. The last one seemed to be going well but there was a surprising little thump when we hit. When I said, 'Jeez, Louise,' Larry told me it was still a good landing and reminded me that I can't expect to know exactly when the wheels will contact, and not to expect night landings to be greasers."

There's also a requirement for a dual night cross-country flight to an airport at least 50 nm away. The airport Larry usually used was getting new runway lights installed and we weren't sure how long that would take. The only other realistic choice was to go to the airport in the "big city" where I'd gone on my last solo cross country. I was ecstatic. The trip was great, but mildly disappointing. It was cold and there was an awesome headwind on the return. Seeing a major city from the air at night is a sight to behold. But I suppose someone forgot to tell the managers of all those big downtown buildings that I was coming because they weren't all lit up like they are in Flightsim. In rural areas, the converse is true. In reality, at night, there are a surprising number of lights scattered across the landscape. In Flightsim, the landscape can be too devoid of lighting. This was my experience, even though I'd long ago installed the FlightsimWorld night textures. This was before the release of FS2004, but the new version isn't much better in this regard.

Larry and I finished the night flying one evening after we'd already done a half hour of daylight dual. By then I only needed three more night take-offs and landings. On my last one, I forgot to turn on the landing light until we were just a few feet off the ground. I began to reach for the switch but figured it was too late and just brought the plane down the rest of the way. There was a thump at touchdown, but it wasn't too bad.

Perhaps more notable than finishing the night requirements was the conversation Larry and I had when we were through that night. Suddenly, the traffic pattern altitude had been lowered eight feet. He told me he was going to start to get really nitpicky, and thenceforth he'd expect the pattern to be flown at exactly 800 feet AGL, 1692 feet as opposed to 1700. What does it mean when one's instructor gets so nitpicky that he says he wants an eight foot difference in the pattern? It means one is at the beginning of the end of the flight training.

Larry had me under the hood doing unusual attitude recovery again today. This time he took control while I looked down and flew the plane up, down, this way and that, trying to fool my inner ear and get me generally confused.

I tried not to pay any attention to what he was doing, but it's impossible not to notice some. The first time he had me look up I accidentally looked all the way up out of the airplane. The next time I looked up and we were actually nearly straight and level. I can't recall the third time but the fourth time we were in a powered dive. The Attitude Indicator was buried, the VSI showed 1500 fps descent, the ASI was in the yellow, and we were in a slight bank. I leveled the wings and killed the throttle, then slowly applied back pressure trying not to tear off the wings. The VSI wasn't coming up. Larry said to give it a little more back pressure and we began to level and soon began to climb. I had to get the nose back down to avoid a stall.

I said I was afraid to pull back too hard. He told me to gradually apply back pressure until it started to level. You have to avoid G's, but ensure the plane does not go beyond the red (Vne). He also said the natural reaction was to yank the yoke back, and he was ready to block that if I'd done that.

Afterward, he also told me that he often takes the student for a ride only to leave him or her back at straight and level. He said that is often very confusing as the student doesn't expect it and is set to take quick corrective action. He also said it tends to trip up the people who cheat and look.

Unusual Attitude Recovery. A reader of my first article warned me about this. Unusual Attitude Recovery-such tame terminology. I suppose the FAA can't just call it "Topsy Turvy." Readers of my first article may recall I have a slight fear of heights, which was no problem during the flight training to this point. But in this phase of the training one is wearing the hood, and is told to look down at the floor while the airplane is being lead into who-knows-what attitude. I didn't think this would be a problem, but I was apprehensive. I had some idea of what might happen because earlier Larry had demonstrated spiral dive recovery, taught me to level the wings first because pulling back in a bank only tightens the spiral. As it turned out, this was possibly the most fun part of the training. Larry told me he was having a hard time "fooling my inner ear." He was trying to make me spatially disoriented, to give me the "leans," but as far as I know he never succeeded. Perhaps by letting go and not trying to remain oriented, I never became disoriented. The rub is that if ever in a real situation such as this, I will be trying to remain oriented, trying to fly the plane, so this is not to say that disorientation will never occur-that that won't happen to me. I just think this part went better than I expected.

It was fun because it was problem solving like a puzzle, going from tangled to untangled, from unusual to, well, usual. Essentially, the instructor is saying, "I broke it (the attitudinal situation), now you make it right-fix it." It was also fun because of some of the things Larry said as he was about to take us into attitudes unusual, like, "Here we go, I always get a barf out of this one." On another occasion, I was the victim of his vaunted "triple snap." I don't know what he did, exactly, but we jerked around pretty good before he had me look up and recover. I ought to call him and ask, "What the hell was that 'triple snap,' anyhow?" (Actually, I did-but I'm not telling!)

I was still only about halfway through the three hour requirement. It seemed like we'd done more. Larry said I could go somewhere and finish it on an approved simulator if I wanted. That didn't sound appealing so we discussed maybe doing a two-hour session.

"That may not be necessary because today we did almost the whole lesson under the hood, all but the take-off and two landings, for 0.8 hours. The first landing he had me do the approach under the hood, simulating a radar or 'surveillance' approach. He was the controller and vectored me in until we were about 500 feet AGL, then had me un-hood and land.

Larry had me track to the nearby VOR (seven nm west of the airport). It was a little tricky because of the wind. He said the main thing was to pick a heading and stick with it until the needle began to center, and when on course, pick another heading you think will keep you on course, etc., in other words, to pick headings and not to chase the needle around. He also said to use the rudder to make 5° course corrections to avoid overcorrecting.

He had me do one of the local instrument approaches. After we crossed the VOR he had me turn to the 254° radial outbound for a minute, do a procedure turn, and cross the VOR at 2600 feet. He said to start timing again and in three and a half minutes I'd be able to see the runway. Sure enough, after the elapsed time he had me un-hood and we were about a half mile out. He had me do the missed, a right climbing turn to 3000 back towards the VOR."

These two pictures are from the same point in time and illustrate how one can practice unusual attitude recovery in flight simulator. You can use the IFR paneled Cessna 172, beginning straight and level. Then as you look down at your keyboard, turn 3-7 seconds each way back and forth while opening and closing the throttle and while pitching up and down some. Do it until you're unsure of your attitude, but do it quickly.

We slugged out the hood requirement and on the last day of that Larry brought along an approach plate. It was really cool to do a real published approach after having done so many in Flightsim. I believe it was the same approach as the one he'd talked me through before, but there was something about doing it with the plate that made me feel like an honest-to-goodness pilot.

After the second and last landing of the day we were taxiing back to the hangar when Larry said something along the lines that I was well prepared. After we got the airplane in the hangar he said he wanted me to get back to learning how to fly. He said we'd been distracted by having to complete the hood requirements. He wanted me to go out and spend half the time doing stalls, turns-around-a-point, and the other half landing. He said after that we'd do what he called a 'wash-out ride' to see if there was anything I still needed to work on. I took this to mean a pre-checkride dress rehearsal.

I figured when he was discussing the solo time he was meaning maybe three hours worth before the wash-out ride. But then he started talking to me about setting aside a day to go up to where the examiner is based. I replied, 'What're we talking, like three or four weeks?' I started mentally reviewing my work schedule when he said, 'We may be able to do it before the end of the month.' My jaw nearly dropped as the immediacy of it all really began to sink in.

He also said we had a lot of ground schooling to do yet. I always look forward to that--getting to sit around and talk with a flight instructor about flying isn't a bad way to spend time the way I see it.

I spent more time schooling than flying. Larry told me, "Sleep with your POH under the pillow." I scoured the Federal Aviation Regulations (FARs) and made myself a little outline of the significant Parts. And Larry and I talked a lot. We talked about weight-and-balance, about positive and negative stability, about airplane inspections and all the paperwork, G-loads and utility category, Vx and Vy, and a plethora of other topics. He told me to give complete answers but to be careful not to volunteer too much information. He reminded me that many FAA requirements were minimums. He quizzed me and gave advice and explained what traps to avoid. At one point, he asked me why it wasn't a good idea to take-off with an overweight airplane, what would happen. I said, "I don't know. You'd need more roll for take-off and landing; it would effect the wing loading--"

"Wait a minute. You were right when you started out-you don't know." He tapped the POH. "That's why airplanes come with these. Any time you fly outside the specs in this book you don't know what will happen. Anytime you fly outside these specs you become a test pilot for the airplane's manufacturer."

Some of Larry's advice I may have taken too literally.

I went up for an hour of solo practice and the next time Larry went along. It was the "wash-out ride." We did a little bit of everything. He gave me some advice to quicken my approach-to-landing-stall recovery. When we were finished that day he did two more things. In my logbook he wrote, "Recommend for Private Pilot." From the airport office, he called the Examiner as I looked on. "Hello, David, it's Larry. I have another one I need to send up to see you..." We made the appointment two weeks off. I was given my "homework." Before going up for the checkride I had to do a weight-and-balance with mine and David's weight, and I had to prepare a flight plan. On Larry's recommendation, I flew one more hour of solo practice in the interim.

I was apprehensive. When there was a slight chance for thunderstorms along the route to the checkride, part of me hoped I wouldn't be going so I'd have more time to get ready, maybe even fly one more time and work on crosswind landings. But Larry told me to get ready to go, to turn around if any bad weather really did materialize. He still had to review my flight plan to the checkride since I was still his student, and I also showed him the one I'd done for homework and the weight-and-balance. He told me if anything I'd over-prepared. (I'd already done an FAR cheatsheet.)

The weather was good most of the way, smooth as glass and visibility to spare. I passed well south of the big runway of the Air Force Base along the route, avoiding its Class D airspace, and followed a RR track to the next significant town. After passing that town things went a little sour. Frankly, I got lost. The visibility halved. The tailwind turned and I got blown off course. I thought I had my next checkpoint, a smaller town, and reported 10 miles from my destination. But when I thought I should be seeing the town hosting the airport where I'd be doing the checkride, it did not appear. I started searching the sectional for landmarks but there weren't any good ones nearby, at least that I could see. Beyond the town a major river bends southeast, and the town lies between a major Interstate and the river. I couldn't even find the Interstate. I mean, a major highway and a major river, what more could you ask for? Being lost in a Cessna 150 isn't easy. There's no autopilot, so you have to fly the plane, scan, and look at the sectional. There's only the one VOR receiver. I put it to use and cross-haired a couple stations to find that by then I was southeast but not yet to the river. I followed a radial and before long had the airport in sight.

Low visibility can be so unkind. Actually, the visibility appears worse in the picture than it really was here.

I met David, the examiner, at the door. He was an ex-Marine, a little older, close cut hair balding some. David was the local airport guy, the voice on UNICOM, the local instructor, etc. I supposed he'd been wondering where the hell I'd been since making that 10-mile report so I confessed I'd been 'positionally impaired.' He laughed at that, and I figured I hadn't blown it by my unplanned delay.

While he went over my personal paperwork, including my logbook, I pulled out my stuff and began to organize it. You have to establish the plane is legal to fly, that is, you and it have all the required paperwork and log entries. I suppose once he saw I had it there he didn't figure he needed to look through it or quiz me on it. It seems like we started out by discussing inoperative equipment and I handled that fairly well. We quickly moved on to my flight plan and then on to the weather. All in all, the oral exam seemed cursory. I had either over-prepared or he had seen early that I was prepared and perhaps didn't require a good grilling. He said the oral would continue into the flight test.

When we got to the plane the wind had become harsh, a straight crosswind. When I checked later it was well over 10 knots and gusting higher. My first landing was really lousy. David asked me how to prevent that from happening again. I said more tilt of the wing and more rudder. He said to really 'stick that rudder.' Next was a soft-field take-off and landing. I flew a better pattern and really let the rudder know who was boss--and nailed the landing pretty good. David said, 'That's a lot better. That one was so good it made up for the last one.' Short-field was next. He said to be conservative; not to try so hard to get within the target range that I blow the landing altogether. This landing was decent, maybe not as good as the soft-field, but not bad and within the target. (To give some flavor of how difficult the wind truly was, the person flying in for the checkride after mine went around three times before making it in.)

David next had me start to fly my plan. After a bit he claimed the weather ahead was lousy and had me divert to the northwest. Then he said we'd just flown into clouds and gave me the hood. He asked me what I would do. I said, quite simply, 'Turn around.' He said, 'OK, do that, then.' We talked about lost-procedures and ended up tracking a VOR. The recovery from unusual attitude was from a highly banked stall.

He told me to remove the hood and we did a straight approach-to-landing stall and a departure stall to the left. Steep turns and turns-around-a-point were next, and then a forced landing. The forced landing was a little tough because it was hard to tell what kind of crops were beneath us. These river bottoms are some of the best farmland in the world, and everything below was plush green. I couldn't tell the corn (bad) from the beans (good). David gave me some hints in that regard. I was over corn and was able to extend to the beans, and slipped down until he told me to recover and get back up.

Next on the agenda was a simulated electrical fire. I knew mostly what to do but there were a couple things he added. By then we were close to the airport again and he told me to head for the pattern and bring it in. Of course, the electrical fire had 'busted' the flaps, so I couldn't use those. This landing was therefore a little long, a real floater, but I kept it straight and touched down gently.

As we taxied into the ramp area, David said, 'You're going to need fuel. If you can taxi back around there to the pumps without hitting anything, you pass.' I did, and I did!!!"

I was ecstatic. This was one of the greatest moments of my life! I'd worked for this for a year, and had dreamed about it through three or more years of flightsimming. Twice that day I thought I'd blown it. Wandering around "positionally impaired," the pressure of not being able to find my destination had been bad enough, but there had been the added pressure of that sinking feeling that I was blowing my checkride even before getting there. And then after that first landing things didn't look so good, but I redeemed myself quickly. As the checkride progressed there was a growing feeling that I largely had things under control and was going to pass unless I did something really stupid. All the training began to kick in.

David and I returned to his office. I paid the fee. He filled out the temporary paper certificate and signed it. I was a Private Pilot!

This is the card the FFA sends you later, but until you get it the paper one is just as valid.

I was a Private Pilot--so now what? Larry and I sat down and talked upon my return from the checkride. The gist of what he told me was that I'd be "lost." I was used to being "spoon-fed" what to do, and now I had to make my own way. As you may recall, I mostly took lessons just to take them, just to learn to fly, with no real ulterior purpose. Of course, now that I was a pilot I had no intention of quitting. Larry knew that many new pilots take friends for rides. He suggested I check out and familiarize myself with as many airports in the area as I could. He suggested I rent planes for a while, and to try to fly as many different types as possible. He also suggested I take a look at a book by Private Pilot editor and columnist Leroy Cook, entitled "101 Things to Do with Your Private Pilot's License/p>

(See here; this is great reading for a freshly minted pilot, I discovered, with plenty of ideas for flightsimmers, too).

As I write this, I've been a pilot for a brief time. I haven't flown nearly as much as I wanted, but that's probably true for most pilots. I'd like to buy an airplane someday. I'm still working on the missus on that one. I've tried to hook up with as many other pilots as possible and have flown in a few different planes. Larry's been very gracious about answering questions despite I'm no longer his student, and there are plenty of opportunities to chat with him partly because I rent from him. But he was right; I feel a little lost sometimes.

My first passenger was my sixteen year old stepson Mark. We flew to a lakeside town where I do a lot of work. We chatted on the way, got there and flew around some, and landed. The airport was unattended but we got into the pilot's building by entering into the lock the numerals of the frequency of a nearby VOR. Before long we were airborne again, only this time I eventually noticed we weren't chatting as much. I looked over at Mark. His head was turned away as he gazed out the window. I scanned around and looked back and Mark was still transfixed and motionless, looking out the window as the ground passed beneath and the seconds ticked by. There was a great feeling of contentment at that moment.

The epiphany was that flying was a gift. The experience of flying was a gift I could now give to Mark and later to others. It was a gift that I have received from many; but particularly from all my friends in the Flightsim world, and then from my instructor Larry. My sincere hope is that by recounting the experiences of one Flightsim enthusiast who grabbed the chance to become a Private Pilot, I've been able to pass along to you some of the gift of flying.

Joe Zuzul
jzzl@earthlink.net