Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

This blog entry has been bubbling around in my head for quite a while, and I feel like it’s time to get it written down.

I haven’t flown an airplane in over a year.

Now, there are a number of reasons for me not flying an airplane in over a year. To be very clear, it’s not because of a lack of interest. I really miss flying airplanes. I love flying airplanes. And every time I hear anything that resembles an airplane, I look up to see what’s flying overhead.

Aviation is, and will always be, awesome for me. But here’s the thing: I have not found a flying situation here in Tucson that gels with my expectations.

Prior to moving to Tucson, I had the opportunity to fly hundreds of hours in Upstate New York and around greater Chicagoland and southern Wisconsin. In both home bases I found awesome flying groups that shared my enthusiasm for General Aviation. And in these instances I enjoyed flying the club airplanes. Whether it was the Piper Cherokees, Diamond DA-40s, or something like a Cessna 172 or 182, I had fun flying, even ducking under O’Hare’s airspace to get into the home airport. Folks from the clubs would get together and go flying somewhere as a group, we’d chat about aviation back at the base, and there was a camaraderie that aligned well with my pilot heart. It was awesome.

Flying in the Tucson area is different. The weather is a heck of a lot different than what I’m used to. The landscape is a lot different than my old stomping grounds, to say the least. And honestly, flying over the desert is, well, rather boring. At least in these parts.

Plus, General Aviation is getting to be a very expensive hobby. It’s always been pricey, but these days the prices are really going up and it didn’t make financial sense to spend a couple hundred dollars for Earl and me to fly over the brown, brown, and more brown of the desert. Getting my Instrument Rating while here in Tucson was awesome, but the flight school didn’t really hang together like I knew other flight schools to do. There wasn’t nearly as much in line with peer encouragement. My instructor was encouraging, but not nearly as engaged as I was used to. I didn’t find this disappointing as much as I found it slightly disheartening. There was no one to shake my hand and wish me congratulations when I earned the latest certification. The examiner signed the certificate and I went out and put the airplane away myself.

After trying a couple of other flying clubs, I found a club that had three Cessnas and the folks seemed like good folks. It seemed to be reminiscent of what I had experienced back in Rome, New York and in Chicago, which in turn was very reminiscent of my memories of the pilots association my dad and grandfather belonged to. And while the folks in the Tucson club were enthusiastic, they didn’t seem to hang together as much as the other clubs, or maybe I was just too new. Plus, there was something with the Cessnas that I didn’t enjoy: a few little maintenance issues from time to time, and honestly, even though they’re a dime a dozen and probably a majority of pilots learned to fly in a Cessna 172, I don’t find them as fun to fly as the other airplanes I’ve flown in my career. The Cessna 182, the bigger brother of the 172 is fun to fly as well, but again, to me the Cherokee and especially the Diamonds feel just a bit sleeker. It’s like flying a truck versus flying an Acura RSX. I found my enthusiasm waning.

Then, there’s a little bit of a change in attitude in these parts. Earl and I were flying into Marana last year and there was arguing between pilots over the radio at this non-towered airport. Non-towered airports are not a big deal, when everyone communicates. Like other pilots in the pattern (the area around the airport), I was announcing my intentions to land and position myself accordingly, when another airplane ignored everyone on the radio and said he was coming in on the downwind, and then he flew under me. It wasn’t a close call, but in my book that was a no-no, and I said to Earl that night, “the hell with this, I’m flying us back to Tucson”. We promptly departed the pattern.

Earlier this year there was a mid-air collision at Marana because a Cessna came up under a homebuilt that had decided to do a go-around because the Cessna was on the runway at the time. Apparently there had been words between the pilots of the two airplanes before the mishap. I don’t know if it’s society in general, but there used to seem to be an unspoken bond between pilots. An “I got your back” type of attitude. I’m not finding that here.

Lastly, because I wasn’t completely feeling the flying situation in these parts, I felt my head wasn’t into it as much as it needed to be and while I am always a safe and responsible pilot, I was starting to feel rusty and slightly distracted. Instead of flying at least once a week, I’d be lucky to get one or two flights in a month, due to finances and availability of the airplane. When I started feeling even a little bit distracted I became very aware of the responsibilities all pilots have to themselves, their passengers, and the people on the ground. I’m well aware, very well aware, that pilots die in airplane crashes. I refuse to be one of those pilots. On last year’s storm chasing trip I decided to sell my share of the flying club and let someone that was more into flying in the Tucson area buy my share of the club.

In my heart I know I made the right decision, but man, do I miss flying. I am a pilot, I’ll always be a pilot, and I am incredibly proud of that achievement. I have flown faster airplanes than my dad or grandfather, and I have more endorsements and certifications than either of them. I have flown in places they never ventured. This isn’t diminishing their experiences as aviators, because after all, they both built airplanes, something I will definitely never do. Ying and yang.

I really miss both my dad and my grandfather.

I also had hopes that contacts at the NGPA (National Gay Pilots Association) would have an interest in flying, but there doesn’t seem to be much interest outside of the airlines with that crowd. That’s disheartening as well. I have never had an interest in flying airliners, and if I did, it’d definitely be cargo. Cargo doesn’t have hissy fits.

If I find the right situation again, I’ll take it, get current, and start taking to the skies, with the hopes of actually going places instead of just punching holes in the clouds in the greater Tucson area.

In the meanwhile, I’ll just keep looking at the sky every time I hear an engine up there.