top of page
Search
Randy Stein

The CFI Chronicles



One of the scariest days of my life.


When you are trying to get enough hours to go to the airlines (1500), there are numerous routes to get there. Some choose to drop skydivers, some do pipeline patrol, many become a Certified Flight Instructor (CFI).


For me, CFI was the way to go. I LOVED teaching people how to fly! It was, by far, one of the greatest privileges I have ever had in my life.


I had this one student who will remain nameless for this story. She was definitely one of my favorites. She was always enthusiastic, funny, and just a joy to fly with.


When you're learning to fly, it is one of the most overwhelming experiences one can have. You roll slowly on to this massive runway. You line up the plane's nose with the center stripe. You push the throttle all the way in and it gets REAL. You roll faster and faster down the runway. The engine is deafeningly loud. The faster you go, the plane starts to feel lighter and the wheels start to get a little squirrelly. It's that feeling like when you go too fast around a curve in your car and that tingle in your spine tells you that you are right on the edge of losing control. You pull back on the yoke or stick and voila, you're in the air. Everything is moving at light speed. Your brain is having trouble keeping up. It's insane.


This student and I had been flying together for a while and I think she had roughly 35 hours by the time I felt she was ready to solo. Her landings had improved to being very consistent. She had a good handle on the communications with air traffic control. She understood how to fly in the traffic pattern at the airport. Most importantly, I felt like her confidence was high enough to where she was ready to go off up on her own.


The day came and we went up together a couple times just as a final precaution to make sure that she was ready. I decided she was and I told her that it was her day. Your solo is definitely one of your most memorable flights of your whole flying career.


We pulled over on the ground, I gave her some final words of caution and wisdom and sent her on her way to take to the skies on her own.


She takes off and does one lap in the pattern, she comes around for her first landing, she nails the landing...


when all of a sudden...


she forgot to put the flaps down. For those of you not schooled in flight, flaps make the plane fly better at slower speeds, kind of. She didn't put the flaps down and when she pushed the throttle full forward, the plane leapt in to the air startling her. In case you didn't know this already, when you are taking a plane in the air for the first time and you are traveling 80 mph, the last thing you want is to be startled.


SHE HANDLED IT LIKE A PRO.


I was standing on the ramp at my flight school watching this whole thing go down. I saw the plane leap in to the air, move side to side over the grass. She was headed right toward the control tower. The plane was snaking to either side of the runway before she regained control. I aged 15 years in that 10 seconds. I was white as a ghost. I was scared she was going to die. My whole thought was that when I signed her logbook to endorse her, it was also her death certificate. I am getting goosebumps while writing this because I can still feel the sheer terror I felt that day.


She did 2 more laps in the pattern, we landed again and we celebrated by cutting the back of her shirt off to signify the solo.


Moral of the story: She acted when she had to. When there was no other option and it was perform or die, she performed. I don't think she even knew she was capable of such a good recovery but sometimes, you have to just do what you need to do and figure out the rest later.



131 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Perspective

Comments


bottom of page