Confessions of a Very Private Pilot: A Jet Pilot's Humorous Life Story

Television."

CHAPTER 2

CATCHING THE FLYING BUG

Arnold Palmer is probably the reason I became a pilot. Back in the ‘60s, the PGA Tour event was held at Oak Cliff Country Club, just a couple of miles from my house. The course was right off the approach end of runway 35 at Red Bird airport. From reading my FLYING magazines, I knew Arnie was a pilot. A jet pilot. He owned a Jet Commander, a gas-guzzling turbojet capable of creating deafening noise at takeoff power. On a windy Thursday, I was walking home from school for lunch, and the ground started to rumble. The trees shook. Stunned, I looked up in the sky to see a smoke-belching jet overhead at 200 feet, making a very low pass over the golf course and me. I froze in my tracks. Arnie had missed the cut and was leaving town early. He decided to make a statement to those still in the tournament by thundering overhead at treetop level. As I stared in amazement at that marvelous machine, I said to myself, I want to be a jet pilot. I have no idea what I had later for lunch but I will never forget that special moment.

I had the opportunity to tell this story to Arnie as we stood at the bar during an aviation event forty seven years later. He smiled and chuckled.

Most of us get this flying virus sooner or later. It’s the insatiable, irrational joy of being in control of your life in an airplane. I acquired the virus before I was a teenager. Each of us has a story of their first flight. Here’s mine:

FIRST FLIGHT

If you are like me you have probably forgotten some important dates during your lifetime. Like birthdays or anniversaries of loved ones. Maybe even the year you graduated from high school. But I bet you haven’t forgotten the exact time and place of your first flight in a small airplane.

For me, it was a Sunday afternoon, exactly one week after the incident. The incident was in the spring of 1964. I was twelve years old and a passenger in my parents’ car. We had just finished church and were returning home when I convinced them to take a detour through our local airport, Dallas Red Bird. I was hooked on aviation and hoped I would be able to see a takeoff or someone in the pattern. Any kind of airplane would do.

As we turned the corner onto the entry road, I saw something fly out of the car in front of us. It looked like a book of some sort. My parents stopped and I ran over and picked it up. It was small and black and full of columns and numbers. It took me about thirty seconds to figure out that this was a logbook. By then, the car had disappeared. When we returned home, I began to leaf through the contents of this amazing journal. It read like a novel. The author had visited faraway places like Chicago and Oshkosh. He flew a Cessna 140, a tail-wheeled, single-engine, all-metal airplane. Surely, he must be a great pilot. I found his name and telephone number on the first page. The good book said his name was John.

I had never flown before and I had an idea. Mustering what little courage a twelve-year-old can have, I called the number. Hello, came the response. Is this John? I asked. Yes it is. Who is this? Yes, well aah, hi, I mean my name is David Miller and I think I have something of yours. Total silence followed and then John said, Did you find my logbook? Why yes, I did, I said. That’s great. I would really like to get it back.

At this very moment in my life, I became an entrepreneur. Not knowing the laws of supply and demand or price theory I decided to wing it. I would be happy to trade your logbook for something, I said. What’s that? John asked. A ride in your airplane, I said. Then, after what seemed like an eternity…I think you have a deal.

I was, to say the least, ecstatic. We made cursory arrangements to meet at Red Bird the next Sunday. I couldn’t sleep all week. What would flying be like? Would I be scared? Would 6 years of reading FLYING magazine prepare me? And I remember the one question my parents had.

Who the hell is John?

Sunday finally arrived windy and turbulent. My parents drove me to the airport and we immediately spotted the beautiful gleaming Cessna. Against their best parenting judgment, they were about to let their only son get into a strange airplane with some man named John.

And off we flew. It was incredible. You could see for miles in the clear afternoon sky. John WAS a great pilot. Indeed the best I had ever flown with. He even told me that the landing would be rough because of the wind. I didn’t mind at all. And then as quickly as it began, it was over.

It took me five years of summer jobs to earn the money to take flying lessons. For five long years, all I could do was think about that flight and what the next one would be like.

Today, because of a great program from the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) kids don’t have to wait five years to experience the wonders of aviation.

In more than 1,000 chapters around the world, the EAA and its members have provided more than 1.8 million young men and women the opportunity to experience flight through the Young Eagles First Flight program. An impressive number of these kids develop into pilots, air traffic controllers, and mechanics.

Recently, I met two young men, Scott and Sammie, both Dallas high school seniors and recipients of financial support from the EAA to attend aviation summer camps through the EAA Air Academy. They are excited about their aviation life ahead and said it would not have been possible without the EAA.

Flying has given me great joy and a sense of accomplishment. And just like the logbook that flew out the window 46 years ago, the EAA is giving a new generation of pilots the gift of flight.

Some kids will do anything for an airplane ride.

CHAPTER 3

WHY WRITE THIS BOOK?

By now, you can agree that I definitely don’t write for a living. So why did I spend over three hours penning this masterpiece?

Originally, I wanted to title this work, SEX IN THE COCKPIT. Unfortunately, Patty refused to allow me to do the in-depth research necessary for a thorough presentation.

In 2007, I was one of the first pilots to take delivery of the new Cessna Mustang, a wonderful machine and probably the best bang for the buck of any jet they have built to date. It was full of new features including the Garmin G1000 avionics system. Times were pretty heady back then if you can remember. Cessna couldn’t build jets fast enough. Their marketing department decided to publish a quarterly magazine dedicated to the Mustang and the new breed of pilots who flew them. In mid-2008, I got a call asking if I would like to be on the cover of the first edition. Sure, why not. All my arrest warrants had expired.

A few weeks later , five folks including a camera crew, ad agency reps and a gal named Dianne White landed in Dallas. For two days, they followed me and Patty around taking pictures of us doing what we like to do, working with various children’s non-profits in the Dallas area. Dianne wrote a nice story and sent me hundreds of pictures they took during the visit. After a month or so, I called Dianne and asked about the magazine. It’s been killed, she said. The stock market had crashed. There was no money for a new magazine.

The owner-flown jet market would never be the same.

Fast forward a few months. I opened my monthly copy of Twin and Turbine magazine and lo and behold, Dianne White was the new editor. At the time, the magazine was not loaded with great articles. Oh, it had articles, if you were interested in IRS audits, how to buy life insurance, or how to invest in the stock market. But very little about airplanes.

I fired off an email to Dianne about how she needed to add stories about real pilots and real airplanes. I penned a paragraph about a trip I made to our favorite destination, Gunnison, CO (GUC). She wrote right back. Do you mind if I print this? she asked. I was shocked but didn’t have a reason to say no. Those paragraphs became the genesis for the next six years of writing for the magazine.

Here is that first story.

CONFIDENCE AND COMFORT

Every pilot has a level of comfort. That comfort, or lack thereof, comes from training, experience, risk, etc. The vast majority of our flying time is relatively boring. But occasionally we find ourselves in challenging or stressful situations. The more confident and comfortable you are, the more likely you can successfully complete the flight.

Consider a recent flight I made to GUC. Nearing Gunnison after a two-hour flight in the clear at FL380, Denver Center says, N396DM if you can slow down it may be helpful. You are number three for the approach into GUC and holding may be necessary. I had been watching the weather on XM through the Mustang’s MFD. At the start of the flight it was 5,000 scattered to broken. Now it was coming down. Sure wish the METARS would update more frequently, and I am too far out to get the AWOS.

Power back. It’s nice to see the TCAS traffic on the huge MFD. I can see the traffic begin the full approach into GUC and I can tell that I am going to get to practice many of the maneuvers that I did in the sim at FlightSafety in Wichita. But it’s a lot different today. This is not practice. It’s very real. Ice in the clouds. Mountains on both sides today. And shortly I will get the uncomfortable radar service terminated from Denver Center.

Mustang 396DM you are cleared to hold over the Blue Mesa VOR as depicted. Descend and maintain flight level 190. Expect further clearance at 1815. Okay, here we go. Now into the murk. Picking up ice. Remember reading the recent NTSB article about the importance of using boots at the first sign of ice unlike what we were taught years ago about waiting until it accumulated. Boots on AUTO. In the Mustang, they work well and the ice snaps off at each cycle. Patty, my wife and non-flying co-pilot of 37 years, keeps a close eye on the ice. Holly, the aging golden retriever needs to pee. Come to think of it, so do I. All that will have to wait.

Denver Center, N396DM is entering the hold at Blue Mesa. Keep the airspeed at least 160 knots to lessen the effect of airframe icing. Fuel looks good. I have plenty to hold for a while, shoot the approach, and head for Montrose if I have to go missed. 396DM, radar service terminated, you are cleared for the ILS runway 6 approach into GUC. Cleared to advisory frequency. Cancel with me on this frequency or on the ground at GUC.

Now I am really on my own. Center can’t see me and doesn’t even want to talk to me. I have no friends up here. It’s just me and my airplane. Flying the Mustang is mostly about pushing buttons. The airplane is a marvelous machine run by numerous computers. It’s the ultimate video game. It will do whatever you tell it to do. But that’s part of the challenge. Tell it to do the wrong thing or push the wrong button, and the confidence factor can evaporate instantly.

Outbound on the procedure turn, boots cycling. I have already calculated Ref speeds, which are higher today due to icing conditions. Check and re-check the appropriate altitude. The G1000 TAWS shows high terrain all around. Not a lot of room for error and even the dog doesn’t like the screams of TERRAIN! TERRAIN! through the speakers. Still in cloud. Should we have waited a day for this trip? The weather is not exactly what it was supposed to be but we begin to see a completely snow covered landscape at the FAF.

Gear down and configured for landing. Make my call on advisory frequency. Tempted to cancel with center so someone behind me can start the approach, but if that commuter pulls out on the runway and I have to miss without a clearance it could be uncomfortable. Boots OFF. Don’t forget to lower the Ref speeds after the boots are off. Over the numbers at ref speed. Decent landing and lots of runway remaining. Today, I had to put it all together. Not perfect but a real confidence builder.

Now, where’s that bathroom?

For the next two years, I wrote the back page of the magazine every month for FREE! I was getting paid exactly what I was worth. The magazine called the page, ON FINAL. In early 2011, my hangar rent increased by $200 per month. Crap. I called Dianne and asked if my writing was worth $200 a month. Well, that’s a lot of money, she replied. Surely she was kidding, I thought. Nope, she would have to check with the publisher and see if she could get actual money for me. Did I mention that Dianne has the first nickel she ever earned? Weeks later she had a response. I was worth it! Now, I was published AND paid.

Two years later, at a Citation Jet Pilots event in Houston, I cornered five of my pilot friends at the bar and convinced them to walk over to Dianne and tell her that I was worth a $50 raise. It worked. Now, I am paid $250 a month. See, you CAN get rich as a writer.

Today, Twin and Turbine is a pretty darn good publication thanks to Dianne and current editor LeRoy Cook.

The ultimate compliment for me is to have a reader say, "I open Twin and Turbine magazine to your article on the back page every month. That makes my day. And while we are talking about great aviation writers, there are two that I feel the same way about. First is the great Mr. Richard Collins, a pilot’s pilot and someone I have admired since I began reading him 40 years ago. The other is Fred George, the go to" source for aircraft evaluations. Fred writes for a number of publications including Business and Commercial Aviation. My favorite up and coming aviation writers are Neil Singer and Matt Thurber.

Because I write a monthly column for an aviation magazine, some people assume I know something about aviation. I think I have fooled them. For example, last week I was standing in the fresh fruit section of my local Safeway when my cell phone rang. It was Bern, an acquaintance from Canada who owns a CJ1+ like mine. Only on this call, Bern was in his airplane at 41,000 feet over northern Canada. He was calling on