A couple of weeks ago I received a summons for jury duty in the mail. “Check the website after 3:30 PM the day before to see if your number comes up!”
Today is the day, my group number came up, and I am not pleased.
First of all, the letter’s composition, design, and general aesthetic makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. I haven’t done anything wrong and I’m certainly not ready to be herded through some public building with a bunch of people I don’t know at the tail end of a worldwide pandemic. Especially in these uncertain times where people like blowing up public buildings and the like.
Second of all, with all the crap going on in the world, I really don’t want to hear a bunch of bloviating from lawyers as to why person X is guilty or not guilty. I don’t need any more bad news, I certainly don’t need to hear about something criminal, and I’m really doing my best to be a good member of society by not getting involved with the law. Why are you dragging me in?
I know, the American court system is amazing because of juries of my peers that can dole out of a fair sentence and I should feel honored to do my civic duty. Blah blah blah.
Honestly, I’d rather be drafted. At least then I’d get to shoot at something.
A roadrunner stopped by for a bit to make sure I was working on a Monday morning. Once I snapped his photo he beep beeped out of here and went on to his next destination.
It’s a quiet Caturday in the desert. Truman is chilling out on his family room catch tree for the first time in a long while. He’s looking quite adorable.
I’ve mentioned before that I am a third generation private pilot. Both Grandpa Country and my Dad were private pilots, and I can vividly remember my first flight with the both of them. It was at a very young age, I sat in the backseat of a Cessna 172 while Grandpa was in the left seat and Dad was in the right seat. He had not began his private pilot lessons yet. I always remember this all occurring at age four. I was wearing a checkered patterned shirt and I remember getting sick during the flight, the only time I’ve ever gotten sick in an airplane. Dad and Grandpa cleaned up the airplane but brought me home to Mom and Grandma Country to be cleaned up. Aside from the vomit, I remember enjoying that flight. I flew with my Grandfather a couple of times since then, but did most of my flying with Dad after he got his Private Pilot’s certificate. After they both passed it was up to me to get my certificate to fly if I wanted to keep on flying, which I did.
Today I earned my Instrument Rating as a private pilot. This is one step beyond the basic Private Pilot’s Certificate, and I have proven my skills at successfully planning, flying, and navigating through IMC, or Instrument Meteorological Conditions. I can fly in the clouds now. I started training for this rating when we lived in Upstate New York but didn’t get to finish it before we moved to Chicago. General Aviation in Chicago proved to be a bigger hit on the budget than original anticipated, so it wasn’t until we moved to Tucson that I was able to resume this training. There’s three parts to the certification: a written exam (I passed in June), an oral discussion/exam, and a proficiency checkride. The latter two happen on the same day unless something happens with the weather during the oral discussion and then you can defer the flight to another date, but otherwise you do both on the same day. I took the day off from work.
I’ve been studying like crazy for the past several weeks, and on Wednesday I flew with a different instructor to make sure I was ready for what today’s adventure would entail. I walked away from the flight on Wednesday feeling good about things. I contacted the FAA Designated Examiner on Thursday and he had me plan a flight from Tucson to El Paso, Texas, which would be the basis of our discussion. As I was finishing up my flight plan last night, I noticed a NOTAM, or a Notice To AirMen (actually now Notice To Air Mission) that the main runway and the instrument landing system at my home airport would be closed. All of the approaches I had practiced for the checkride were no longer available.
When meeting with the examiner, he suggested we try approaches at nearby Tucson Airport. I’d never flown these approaches before, my instructor had a look of surprise on his face, especially when I said, “OK, let’s go ahead and do that instead”. It took a few moments of discussion with the examiner to build the scenario and then he said something to me that struck a chord, “you’re not going to be flying the same approaches every flight”. So instead of using muscle memory and acquired skills through repetition, I’d be flying like an airline pilot onto the main runways. Tucson Air Traffic Control normally doesn’t allow general aviation pilots to practice approaches to the main runway, but I told them I was on my FAA Checkride and they sequenced me in between Boeing 737s and Airbuses as I made my way down the approaches to minimums. Overall the flight went very well, I received my “satisfactory” blessing from the FAA Designated Pilot Examiner (who was very, very pleasant to fly with) and I am now an Instrument Rated pilot.
I am going to continue my aviation training and career and will be starting my Commercial Rating training in a couple of weeks. I’m looking forward to the challenges, and I have a feeling the two previous pilots in the family are smiling down as I progress through this adventure.
It’s well beyond monsoon season but another Nature continues to be in a stormy mood.
While out for my walk yesterday afternoon I noticed more air traffic than usual overhead. A little digging into Twitter and it turns out Phoenix has being hit with 50+ MPH winds and an impressive sandstorm, so inbound flights to Sky Harbor were in holding patterns over Tucson. This ties in well with my instrument training currently in progress as I’ve been practicing these types of holds in much smaller airplanes.
Here’s one of the tracks of holding airliners overhead during the sandstorm.
It looks like this pilot wanted to do their own thing, though.
I enjoy storms, as long as I’m not flying in them.
Once or twice a year I’ll receive a handwritten letter from a local person encouraging me to find myself, reduce my stress, bring serenity to my life, etc. by becoming a Jehovah’s Witness (or is it ‘join the Jehovah’s Witnesses?). I’ve received these letters for many years, in all the locales that we’ve lived in. Apparently my name and needs are on a mailing list somewhere.
These letters don’t bother me. I actually read them. I don’t feel compelled to take any action, as I have my own spiritual beliefs and I’m quite solid in what I believe, but I find the correspondence interesting. No two letters are the same. Perhaps the senders are provided many templates.
I hope the authors find peace through sending me these letters.
Early flights are beautiful here in the desert. Here’s a picture of the Cessna 172 I flew this morning. The photo was taken right at sunrise here in southern Arizona.
This time of day is particularly business for General Aviation aircraft here in the desert. By the time the sun heats the desert later in the day, it becomes quite bumpy and there’s increased chance of thunderstorms this time of year. The morning provided for a smooth flight.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
