Raven asked in a comment what it is like to fly. So I thought I would start at the beginning and do a true flying story every once in a while. This is my second favorite topic other than women, Marines, politics, guns. So here is the first episode:
My first flight was in an old Cessna 172 when I was six. From that point on I was hooked for life. The desire to fly has guided my life through school, the Marines, college, and work. My first lesson was from a retired Army Colonel when I was just 18 before I entered the Marines. I did this without the knowledge of my parents. I flew for an hour in this old plane that really amazed me that it was able to start let alone fly. It was the best airplane I could afford at the time working on minimum wage at McDonald’s while in high school. Shit hit the fan at home when I told them afterwards.
Years later in the Marine Corps, I was working with pilots every day and was finally able to talk one into teaching me to fly in the off time and I had positioned myself in a way to afford the lessons. I took a couple lessons and then got deployed to another desert with my unit and was not able to continue. I studied all of the flying books I could but would not continue while active.
After I was discharged from the Marines I got a ramp job (fueling airplanes) at the same local airport, with another former Marine, that I spent much time at growing up. I was in college so I took whatever work there was to pay for flights. We had two lessons and he was killed in a airplane accident that almost stopped my will to fly. I started again with another Certified Flight Instructor’s (CFI’s) a month later. Death is a part of life in the military and also in aviation. You have to move on.
Well we got to a point that I was comfortable with all aspects of simple flight. My CFI & I were doing touch and goes at my home airport when he said come to a complete stop, pull off the runway, and he jumped out and said do three more touch and goes.
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