Lesson #7 — 1.5 hours (8.8 total)
Although every lesson so far has been interesting, challenging, surprising, or exciting (and not always in a good way!), today's contained a bit of a landmark.
I was still skeptical that my takeoffs were solid. Were the last few just flukes? Apparently not. Today, they continued to be good. I stayed close to the centerline, got the tail up about the right amount and the plane flew itself off. I still need to work on nailing the climb out speed—I tended to be a bit slow initially—but takeoffs are pretty good. Landings are still lagging behind in quality. However, I'm making more positive adjustments when I see that we're high or low, adjusting throttle and pitch and getting us lined up on the runway. Before we got into the plane, I asked the instructor if we could fly the length of the runway a few times so I could practice controlling my lateral position while keeping the longitudinal axis of the plane parallel to the runway. He said he was going to suggest that anyway. That was challenging and I need to work on it more. I feel like it will reap big benefits.
After 3 takeoffs and landings, we came to a full stop. A buddy called us on the radio while we were on final and said he thought he found my fuel cap by the pumps. In fact, it was mine. We never did end up using that tank, but that's okay, because the one we
were using was full and that was plenty. I don't think any fuel was siphoned because that tank was only half full to begin with, so no big deal. Another lesson learned. I told the instructor he could sit tight and I'd get the fuel cap back on the tank. He said he was going to get out because I was going to start flying out of the left seat. The plan had been for us to go up in his Cessna 140 to start me off in the left seat, because then the instructor would still have brakes. However, he clearly thought I could handle the plane okay without his having brakes. Was his faith misplaced? Would I get psyched out? Drop it in and break the gear? Get brain overload, fowl up the controls, and ground loop? My instructor no longer could save the day with brakes.
I took off. So far so good. I stayed on the centerline and executed a good takeoff. I headed south to a practice area dodging a few clouds and doing Dutch Rolls along the way. I proceeded to do several 360s, both directions, including the steepest turns I'd done yet—around 60°—turns around a point, and s-turns along a road. I tried to fly a constant distance from a street intersection in a rectangle, and completely sucked. Couldn't keep my distance consistent. I found it hard to judge. We then proceeded to do some power-off stalls and then some power-on stalls. Not perfect, but not bad.
Then, the moment I was dreading. We headed back towards the airport. I asked if we had to land, although I already knew the answer. There was no getting around it. I asked if we could do a couple more low passes first. I expressed a few times how strange it was, banking the wings and slipping with the rudder. I felt retarded, or drunk, or something. However, I almost felt like I was improving at the tail end of the second pass. Maintaining altitude over the runway while attempting that wasn't easy, either. In general, I was less coordinated in the left seat while using my left hand than I had been in the right seat. I almost felt like I was having to re-learn what I had just learned. I was fighting my muscle memory. On downwind at mid-field, I began to take my left hand off the stick to pull carb heat, but I caught myself. That's the hand I
had been using up to that point, so that's the one that automatically went. I have a few more hours before retraining the muscle memory.
Now, the moment of truth. "This time, let's land," Gene said to me. Crap.
Way too high on final. "Slip it," Gene said. My first forward slip ever. Gene never lets up. I started a little timidly. I gave it left aileron and right rudder. "Give it full rudder!" After stepping all the way down on the rudder, I adjusted aileron a bit to get us a little farther to the right. I checked our airspeed. Okay. Good speed. Ease out of the slip. I'm lined up. I'd been ballooning consistently in my landings just prior to touching down. Level off a little earlier, hold it off, let it start to settle, keep pulling back. Touch the rudder, make sure we're straight.
Hmmm. We're down. My best landing yet. Whaddya know?
Although I knew it could ruin the good ending to the day, "let's do one more," I said, and so we did. A little high, a little fast, a little off to the right. Pull throttle, pull back on the stick, coordinate a slight turn to the left, then back to the right. That landing wasn't as good, but I made adjustments and got us down without bending or breaking anything. I actually felt good about it, not because it was good—it wasn't—but because we bounced and got a little crooked and I dealt with the issues and got us down in reasonable fashion.
Onward and upward.
Jay
