Memoir of an Aviator: My Journey from Factory Worker to Airline Captain, #2

By David Craig

This book is ideal for aviation enthusiasts, filled with technical details of military aircraft maintenance, vivid descriptions of civil flight instruction, along with airline pilot training and operations from behind the flight deck door. It is also my very personal story of how I went from a teenager working in a furniture factory to the left seat of a Boeing airliner after a long and tumultuous journey.

Memoir of an Aviator – My Journey from factory worker to Airline Captain, Volume 2: Airline Pilot is the description of the second half of my professional life.  It is also a love story of my relationship with flying. 

My story is in four segments, with the first two being contained in Volume 1. First is my experience as an Air Force mechanic for Strategic Air Command on Cold War-era KC-135s. Next, is a description of the remainder of my Air Force career as an inflight refueling operator (aka boom operator). I tell of my experiences on KC-135 and KC-10 tankers, and of the many trips and operations I have been a part of.

 

In Volume 2, my life takes a turn, and I train as a commercial pilot, ending up flying at the world's largest airline after years of progression. After my flying days were over, I worked for a major US airplane manufacturer, developing training programs for civil and military pilots. I ended my career running a site for a world-class military flight simulation company.

My story is not all just good times and favorable experiences. There was romance, then heartbreak. There were triumphs, then tribulations. There was joy in reaching my lifetime goal and then sorrow after getting laid off. Sometimes I questioned the path I had chosen and through determination, stubbornness, and support from my spouse, I made a career out of it. The people I describe along the way are sometimes humorous, at other times exasperating, but always interesting.

This book will appeal to several interests. Mechanics and airplane aficionados will enjoy the description of my crew chief days and work alongside me as I maintain a frontline war-fighting asset. Military aviation fans will like the description of my time as a boom operator as I haul cargo and refuel airplanes in midair around the world. Pilots and those interested in what goes on beyond the airliner flight deck door will have plenty to enjoy with my description of airline training and flight operations. From flying dogs, furloughs, flight training, military life, and people learning to fly, this book has a lot to offer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Craig
• Release date: Aug 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223247524

Book preview

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Cover Design by 99 Designs

FOREWORD

Due to the length of this memoir, this version is split into two volumes. The first volume covered my years in the US Air Force and all of the interesting people I worked with and situations I encountered. This second volume picks up at the beginning of my journey to become a professional pilot and finishes at the end of my career.

In one of my favorite movie scenes, a character in a war movie is guarding a prisoner. With the prisoner bound and gagged, the character asks, I have had an interesting life. Shall I tell you about it?

That is my intent, to tell the reader about my life, which of course I think is interesting. I’ve wanted to be an airline pilot for as long as I have memories. Aviation, pilots, navigators, flight engineers, airplanes, and pretty much anything that flew through the air was an object of my fascination when I was a child. Being mechanically inclined, I easily understood the workings of airplane systems and felt more at home discussing engines, propellers, fuel pumps, landing gear, and the like than I did world affairs, politics, or the opposite sex. The environment in my formative years was the San Francisco Bay area and all that was occurring in the 1960s and 70s. Hippies, drugs, concerts, demonstrations – none of it affected me, as my attention was captured by aviation, and being in California, fast boats, motorcycles, and cars.

My family moved out to the suburbs of Fremont, CA in the mid-1960s. That was noteworthy because it was a vantage point for watching the smoky jets of the day fly overhead lining up their approach to what I learned was runway 29 at the Oakland, CA (OAK) airport. Some 40+ years later I would take off and land a jet airliner on that same runway. But for adolescent me, watching the smoke trails of the jets was fuel for my airline fantasy. There was no telling where those jets were arriving from. They could be coming from Los Angeles or Hong Kong, Paris or London, it did not matter, if it was a jet it had to come from a place far away and full of mystery.

A neighbor across the street in Fremont was an airline pilot, I never found out who he flew for, but it was probably United. He was a quiet, laid-back, and interesting guy. He did not have kids but had a hot wife and cool cars. He was the envy of our suburban neighborhood. He smiled and waved as he came and went, sometimes in his airline uniform. Teenage me was totally gaga over him. He had it all, and I wanted to be him, even though none of us knew a thing about him.

I have arranged this memoir mostly in short chapters, so you can move on if you don’t like a particular subject. I also tried to make the book feel like we were sitting across the living room from one another, and I was telling you the story. There is a lot of detail on the training and duties of a U.S. Air Force airplane mechanic and inflight refueling operator, of which not much has been written about in the plethora of aviation memoirs. I also go deeper into the long grind of flight time accumulation and airline training than I have seen in other memoirs.

My story contains a lot of snippets about the many interesting people I have come across. There are dozens of short descriptions of funny or scary situations which I hope you will enjoy. In one chapter you will see my flight time building bit by bit, capturing the long grind of time accumulation and what civilian airline pilot candidates go through to get enough flight hours in their logbook to get noticed by an airline.

My memories were augmented by the records I have. Some of these are military performance reports which contain some details of accomplishments and the name of my supervisor at the time. I was pleased to see many names I had forgotten and that spurred my memory in recalling detail. Other records that helped me flesh out the story are my military graduation certificates, class photos, military flight time summaries, some personal notebooks I kept for some years and not others, and then my pilot logbooks that contain names, dates, places, and the all-important flying time. Some conversations I recall verbatim, and others I have reconstructed to what we would have likely been saying. I have not stretched the truth to make things more interesting, what I have written is accurate as far as I know. I love a good war story that gets a little better with each telling, but I have tried to put down my memories in this book without embellishment.

Aviation is an acronym rich field. I found the story flows better for me to use military and civilian acronyms and airport codes rather than spelling out the name each time the term is used, so the first time I introduce an airport or acronym, I put the airport code or name in parentheses after the full spelling. So, Philadelphia (PHL) becomes PHL, and First Officer (FO) becomes FO from then on. Aviation savvy readers will recognize this convention right away, and readers new to aviation will feel like a part of our community having broken the code. At the suggestion of my editor, I’ve added an appendix of acronym definitions for the reader to refer to as needed.

Not all of the personal things I write about are pleasant. I have tried to show both sides when possible and not drag the reader through sordid details when it was not necessary. Some things are best left unsaid.

Thanks for picking up this book. Now, I would like to tell you about my interesting life.

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ii

Commercial Pilot

With my brand new FAA 1st Class physical certificate safely tucked away, I started the next phase, which was looking for a flight school to use my VA benefits for flight training. The benefits were outstanding, reimbursing 80% of most of the flight training costs. When I first started the commercial program back at Grissom, they paid 90%, but the benefits had been reduced somewhere along the way. I had done some preliminary research on flight schools around the country and narrowed the search to about four. It was summer in ’93 and I felt the need to get moving.

The challenge was in finding a school that was VA approved for the entire spectrum of what I needed. Some were authorized for the commercial certificate, some for the instrument rating, and more still for multi-engine and instructor. Few were approved for all the ratings I needed. My desired training path would be commercial pilot, instrument rating, multi-engine, flight instructor, instrument flight instructor, multi-engine flight instructor. The school needed to be big enough to have a good-sized fleet of training planes to support a demanding schedule, have good maintenance, a flight training device, and have a student population that would make for steady work after I was an instructor. Still working for Jim at the insurance office, I called using our office phone (with Jim’s blessing) and talked to enrollment people at several schools. This was before the days of the internet search, so the choices came from library research, magazine articles, and reading advertisements in aviation magazines. I narrowed it down to a big flight school in Tennessee, and Aviation Atlanta, in suburban Atlanta, GA.

Making tentative appointments at both places, I set off for Tennessee. After a day’s drive, I ended up in a small town near the school and found an inexpensive motel. Jogging around town before dinner, I thought that the town was okay, about the same size as Bossier City that surrounded Barksdale. So far, so good. In the morning, I found the airport and flight school without too much trouble and was not impressed. The place had a run-down feeling, and nobody seemed to know whom I was meeting. Finally, a young lady gave me information about the professional pilot program and showed me around to see the facilities and the airplanes. She was a student herself and had good things to say about the program. The classrooms were messy and unkempt. The airplanes were kind of trashed out and the ramp seemed in disarray. The airplane tires I looked at were well-worn and had flat spots. There was not much air traffic that I observed. I saw lots of international students, many from the Far East and they seemed like rich young party boys to me. Housing was part of the program, with multiple students sharing an apartment. I asked to talk with a student that was using VA as I wanted to, and she could not think of any. There did not seem to be any kind of adult leadership or management in evidence. I asked about working as an instructor after getting the certificate, and she did not know anything about that. When I asked to speak to a member of management to get some more details, there were none to be found and nobody had any idea where they were or when they would be back. I left after about a 20-minute stay. I crossed the Tennessee school off my list.

With no more to do in Tennessee, I headed for the Atlanta area and hopefully a better experience. Approaching the metro area in late rush hour after a day-long drive, I found the DeKalb Peachtree Airport (PDK) and Aviation Atlanta at its fringe. Since it was after business hours, I looked and looked for a motel after a long period of flailing around, getting intimidated by the traffic and the never-ending sprawl of the big city. I finally found a place and managed to get to the hotel entrance without getting run over. This was a vastly different pace of activity than sleepy little Shreveport. In the morning I called the flight school and after being professionally greeted by what sounded like an adult, made an appointment with the Chief Pilot for later that morning. Now to find my way back to the airport.

Arriving early, I drove around and got an idea of the airport layout. There were several flight schools and a couple of Fixed Base Operators (FBOs) that seemed busy with business aviation airplanes. There was a control tower, something that the Tennessee school did not have. Overall, the airport appeared busy and was thriving. Showing up at the door at the appointed hour, I met the lovely and cheerful Ms. Barbara who was a co-owner of the school with her husband Phil. I was glad to see some adults in charge, this looked promising already. She said Chief Pilot Bob was finishing a lesson and would be out soon, handing me a professional looking price sheet that summarized the professional pilot program. She readily named several students that used VA and said I was welcome to talk with them about their experiences. I then met with co-owner Phil until Bob was available. I was impressed with his youth and business acumen. He had the routine down cold, explaining the high points and going over the program.

When I asked about joining the school as an instructor, he was upfront about it. We’ll let you instruct part-time until a full-time opening comes up. That way we can get a feel for your work ethic and productivity. If you are a good fit, you can come on full-time. There is no base salary, you get paid for flight and ground time. The more you fly and teach, the more you get paid. He walked me out to the desk and showed me the schedule for the five full-time instructors. They had full schedules nearly every day.

Students and instructors were coming and going during our discussion, all seemed cheerful and busy. Barbara checked the students and instructors in and out with efficiency and it seemed chaotic yet organized. Bob showed up around that time and apologized for running behind. He was an older guy, rather portly with thinning white hair and a permanent grin. Let’s go look at a few airplanes! We walked out to the ramp and saw a good variety of Piper and Cessna single-engine planes, and a couple of multi-engine Seminole planes, all parked neatly. The planes were well used but clean. The tires were in fairly good shape. We walked into the maintenance area, and I met Chief Mechanic Dave. He seemed competent and busy. The shop was well organized and clean.

Bob and I went into his small office and chatted for a while. Spotting the price sheet I was still carrying, he was quick to point out that the prices listed were based on the absolute minimum flight time that the FAA required for the various certificates. Nobody gets done in the minimum time, he wisely pointed out. Looking at my logbook, he told me how I would complete each phase. The school was certified under FAA part 142, which allowed accelerated completion, but realistically few achieved early graduation. After a bit, he asked if I wanted to go to lunch. I agreed, and we walked out of the flight school and across the street to an FBO, where he walked through to the flight line and approached a shiny new Beechcraft Bonanza single-engine plane. Wow, I thought. If this is our ride to lunch, I am impressed so far.

We both got the plane ready and were soon airborne heading east to a small airport in Winder, GA. Great BBQ place at the airport, Bob said. The Bonanza was a sweet ride, and I enjoyed the brief flight. We landed and parked in the grass off a taxiway out in the middle of nowhere, and seeing my puzzlement, Bob laughed. The place is across those railroad tracks. We walked through the grass, across the tracks, and were soon in a tiny restaurant with a definite Southern flair. We chatted through lunch and Bob explained more about the pro pilot program. They could help with housing if I wanted, but I could probably find a cheaper place on my own. If I flew every day, I could finish the instrument and commercial multi-engine in two or three months, then get working on my CFI. VA paperwork was no problem and Phil was speaking truthfully about working as an instructor. Most instructors are younger, in their 20’s. You will have a niche market as a more mature instructor. Trust me.

We got back in the Bonanza and headed back. Bob put me in the left seat, and I flew back, relishing the heavy and luxurious airplane feel. Back at the flight school, he asked what I wanted to do. I’d like to start right away. He nodded knowingly. Barbara gladly took my credit card and handed me a pile of books and flight materials. Bob introduced me to Ken, who would be my instructor for the instrument and commercial phases. Ken was a cheerful and enthusiastic guy who put me at ease and started working out a schedule. I would start flying the next day, and Ken pointed out what to study in preparation.

Now to find a place to live. Barb (nobody calls me Barbara except my Mom, she said with a smile) gave me a few pointers on relatively close by extended-stay hotels that had weekly and monthly rates until I found an apartment. She called one and used the flight school name to get a better rate for a reservation and sent me over. Unpacking what I had in the car, I sat down and reflected. I was alone in the big city of Atlanta, about to plunk down a bunch of money for training in search of a job that wasn’t even in sight yet. It was all a bit scary. What the hell, Go big or stay at home! as my former colleagues would say. I found a grocery store with a funny name – Piggly Wiggly – and a liquor store and settled in for the night. After some microwaved dinner and a Jim Beam and Diet Pepsi on the rocks, I opened up the Instrument Commercial textbook and started reading. I had a flight to get ready for the next day, and this time I was the student.

Back at the flight school, I realized that Atlanta in the summer was similar to Louisiana, warm and muggy. I would be drinking a lot of water. Ken reviewed our lesson and soon we were in N6555D, an airplane I would later spend a lot of time in. It was Saturday, June 12th, 1993. We flew an introductory profile so Ken could get an idea of where I was on instrument training, which was at the basic learning stages. The DeKalb Peachtree Airport (PDK) was busy on this nice weekend day, and the control tower was professional and efficient in keeping things running smoothly. We went to an airwork area nearby as I saw the sights and got a feel for the local traffic. Then I donned the hated ‘foggles’ view limiting device, so I was controlling the airplane solely by instruments and not peeking outside. Ken gave me a series of exercises and kindly corrected me as needed. It was harder than it looked. I could tell that Ken and I would get along well; he was funny yet serious, always correcting without disdain, and had a buoyant personality. While he had not been instructing for long, he was professional and organized. Best of all, he had plenty of room on his schedule.

Back on the ramp after the flight, I was soaked in sweat and worn out. We tied the plane down and went in for the debriefing. Overall, not too bad, several things to work on but that would come with practice. We stood at the schedule, and I booked at least two flights a day for the next 10 days, with Ken cheerfully agreeing. I was a man in a hurry. I arranged to go back to Shreveport for a few days to get more of my gear that was stowed at Bonnie’s house and called Ms. Jonnie to see if I could work a few days at the simulator. With that all worked out, I needed to be finding a semi-permanent residence. The hotel bill, even at the discounted rate was eating my credit card alive.

After some of the usual flail looking for apartments, I found a townhouse up I-85 in the town of Norcross about 15 or 20 minutes from the flight school that would not be too hard to get to during rush hour. With a move-in date specified and a deposit laid out, I was ready to live like a human again. One of the other pro-pilot program students had agreed to share the two-bedroom townhouse with me, which was a welcome relief on the lease payment. I headed back to Shreveport for my first trip of many. I eventually found after doing the trip several times, it always took about 10 hours to drive the 620 miles or so. Pulling into Bonnie’s place, we shared some drinks, and I got ready to go to work at the simulator.

It was like old times working at CAE, I enjoyed seeing my colleagues and they were encouraging when I told them what I was up to. I got a few days extra work in thanks to Ms. Jonnie and was glad of it. I also saw my friend Jim at the CAP, and we flew one last time in the CAP plane. He watched me do a few NDB approaches and gave some pointers. It was the last time I saw him. I coordinated with the Air Force for the move of my household goods from Bonnie’s house to the Norcross townhouse and the movers came to pack up my belongings and load the truck. Anxious to get back to flying, I drove the 10 hours back and got ready to make a run at finishing the hours needed for my instrument rating.

I moved into the townhouse on the first of July, and my household goods from my Air Force shipment arrived soon after. That was nice, except that the moving company had sent only the driver, and it seemed that if I wanted the bigger pieces of furniture in the townhouse and upstairs, I had to help him carry the stuff. This was the final insult from the Air Force transportation system and the moving company.

Now divorced, I had looked up a female acquaintance that lived in the Atlanta, GA area near where I was training, and we had dinner together a few times. I had known Marylin as a colleague at some airlift conferences while on active duty and she always seemed a fun loving sort. A civilian Department of the Army recruiting official, she was dialed into airlift and my former military life, and we shared lots of stories about past experiences and the different characters we knew.

Over one such dinner at her place at the end of June, she remarked that a retired Army friend of hers in Destin, FL had a good arrangement for the July 4th holiday – a boat on a lagoon near the fireworks display and had offered to host Marylin and a companion for the event. If only there was a sensible way to get there. Driving would be long, hot, and crowded with holiday traffic heading for Florida. I offered to fly us down in one of the single-engine Cessnas and proposed to share expenses. I would take care of the transportation and lodging arrangements, and she would cover meals, drinks, and sundries. We struck the deal and headed down on July 3rd. After arriving at the municipal airport in Destin, we got a nice room on Hurlburt AFB due to my reserve military status. We then went for a quick dip in the gulf at a local beach, cleaned up, and went off to find her friend for the party. We flew back on the 5th after recuperating. It was a great break, but I was anxious to get on with my training. I got so busy with flying that I lost contact with Marylin and did not see her again.

Buckling down to get finished, Ken and I flew 27 training flights in about a month, getting me ready for the instrument rating check ride. I had taken the written test on June 29th and got a good grade of 95%. Bob gave me a stage check and pronounced me ready for the check ride whenever Ken said I was ready. I was getting pretty comfortable with flying ‘under the hood’ using the basic instrumentation in these light single-engine planes which is what we called simulated instrument flying with the foggles view limiting device. Ken had flown us in actual instrument conditions in cloud on an Instrument Flight Rules (IFR) flight plan on several occasions. It was great experience.

With all the requirements completed, I flew up to Gainesville GA for my instrument check ride with Mr. Al. The flight school always used Al for some reason even though there were FAA designated examiners on the field at PDK, probably because we had to fly up to Gainesville and Phil got more rental time out of the airplanes. He was a savvy business owner. Mr. Al had done so many check rides for the flight school, there was particularly good intelligence as to the content of his oral exam. I had studied it, and Ken had quizzed me sufficiently so that it was a non-event. Al’s instrument flight check was also well known, and I had rehearsed it several times. The flight went without a hitch, and I flew back to PDK on the afternoon of 7/13/93 a newly minted FAA instrument pilot. It was the first time since my private pilot check ride in 1973 that I had gotten an FAA check ride. There were many more to come.

With Al’s sign off in my logbook, I made the last entry in the log I had started in December of 1972 and graduated to a ‘Big Boy’ logbook I had recently purchased. From then on, I used the much larger format book which was also easier to record the plethora of information needed to write in FAA-required entries. The next entry was the next day when Ken and I flew the C-172RG airplane and practiced commercial maneuvers for real. Back then, the FAA required the commercial flight test be accomplished in a more complex airplane having retractable landing gear and a controllable pitch propeller. We had flown about a dozen commercial preparation flights in the RG while waiting for my instrument and total flight hours to get to the correct level, but now it was full-on maneuver practice in preparation for the commercial check ride.

On a miserable cloudy day right after that commercial practice flight, I got an opportunity to ride along and log some actual instrument time in an RG with one of my friends, Mr. Bob C. He was a businessman that had retired from some sort of consulting firm and was working on his instructor certificate for something to do in his spare time. We flew to Louisville and rescued a private pilot that did not have an instrument rating and had gotten stuck in bad weather. Phil used these rescue missions as extra income. For him, that is. There were always pilots hanging around wanting to get free flying time, and this was an example. Bob and I went to pick the stuck guy up with the guy paying for the plane. Win-win for Phil. I did this several times for him over the years.

I set a date with Mr. Al again for the commercial check ride later in the month. This focused my sessions with Ken, and we were again doing 2 flights a day knocking out the practice. The commercial maneuvers the FAA required had not changed much since the 50s. They were a combination of precision flight maneuvers that a commercial pilot would not use in revenue flight but were rather a series of events that required ever-changing control pressures and movement to maintain a prescribed flight path. Some had a practical application, such as short and soft field takeoffs and landings, but the rest were ancestor worship. We did the maneuvers because the FAA expected us to control the airplane smoothly in accordance with the specified flight path. Do the maneuvers well, pass the check ride, and go home happy. No sense worrying about why. I took the commercial written exam on July 16th (97%) and again passed a stage check with Chief Pilot Bob. I was ready.

Back to Gainesville on July 20th, and back to Mr. Al’s office for another oral exam. Like the instrument oral, we had solid ‘gouge’ on the commercial oral and it went exactly as expected. We hopped into an RG for the commercial maneuvers demonstration which I did fairly well at, then it was back to the airport for some landing demos. We were back in the office within an hour, and I flew home this time as the newest commercial single-engine pilot in the US. In a little under a month and a half, I had knocked out the instrument and commercial check rides and burned through some major piles of cash in doing so. It would get even more expensive as I started multi-engine training.

Starting multi-engine training with my new instructor Gary was an experience. He was younger than Ken and more serious without a sense of humor. He was good at his job, and he got me used to multi-engine flying in a hurry. Training in light multi-engine airplanes is mostly about the various bad effects of one engine quitting at an unexpected time. The Piper Seminole was a great example of the light twin, it flew nicely with both engines running but like most light twins could barely fly away from the runway with a low altitude engine failure. This was an area we practiced extensively. We also had to prepare me to demonstrate various maneuvers showing that I understood and could recover from the demo profiles without losing control of the airplane. There is a long history of multi-training accidents that the airplane got away from the student and instructor and crashed. It was hazardous flying that Gary took seriously and let me get closer and closer to the precipice of control loss to show my understanding and gain proficiency.

Since I now was instrument rated, I would have to demonstrate instrument maneuvers and approaches with two engines and also with a simulated failed engine. For the commercial pilot aspect, there were some performance maneuvers and engine out demonstrations along with an oral exam. It would be the most challenging check ride I had yet faced.

Taking about a week off, I did a round trip to Shreveport and worked a few days for Ms. Jonnie. I stayed with Bonnie on these trips, and she as always was glad to have company. On this trip, her friend ‘Foot’ came through on his way back from a Professional Military Education (PME) school in Alabama. I recall him falling asleep on the couch after telling us we could drive his new Corvette while he caught up on rest. After a few drinks, we decided to road test the Corvette and in a lapse of judgment, I decided to see how fast it would go on some rural Louisiana road. Doubly bad judgment, and the next day I spent considerable time beating myself up for what could have been an accident or a career-ending DUI. Never again.

Back from Shreveport, it was one day of practice and then I flew the Seminole across town to the Fulton County airport on the west side of Atlanta. I had to have Gary ride with me as I was not rated in multi-engine planes yet and the insurance company would not let us fly solo. My flight examiner for all my multi-engine check rides would be Captain Stan. He was an active airline pilot working for a turboprop feeder for Delta Airlines. He had been doing the training and checking business for a long time, and also had his oral and flight checks well established. Stan was a neat guy and had a peculiar habit. He would make sure you had all the required paperwork and airplane logbooks, then announce, My fee is $$$ and I’ll collect that from you now. Then he would sit motionless and smile until your check or the right amount of cash was received. Interesting.

Stan’s orals were also learning sessions. He would sometimes stray from the normal questions to discuss a particular subject, and it was always welcome. I believed in the adage, If the examiner is talking, you don’t have to. I liked it when Stan talked, it meant he was not quizzing me. Satisfied with the oral, we headed out to the Seminole and after the usual maneuvers and a couple of approaches, one with a failed engine and a missed approach, we landed, and he signed me off. It felt like a real accomplishment.

Gary had caught a ride back to PDK, so it was up to just me to fly the Seminole home. It must have been a late afternoon check ride, as I logged .3 of night flight time and a night landing along with some instrument time going back to PDK. This was interesting as I had never flown the plane at night. I was glad the lights worked. There was no adoring crowd to meet me as the school had closed for the evening. I put the plane to bed and walked to the car in the dark. Anti-climactic to say the least.

As I drove back to the townhouse, I thought about the last few months. From June 12th to August 13th, I earned commercial pilot certificates in single and multi-engine airplanes with instrument privileges in both. I was a professional pilot.

The trouble was, I was out of money with maxed out credit cards. I still needed to get two instructor ratings and start earning some money flying airplanes instead of paying for them out of pocket. Over a glass of Jim Beam and Diet Pepsi sitting on the couch at the townhouse, I had to come up with a course of action. I put on some music and did some serious cogitation.

Certificated Flight Instructor

The day after my multi-engine check ride I was back in the flight school office and for some reason flew a C-172 to Lawrenceville and back. I believe it was to rescue someone that had an airplane malfunction. Outside of that, I was a non-entity at the flight school. I could not make them any money and I could not spend any. I must have gone back to Shreveport to do some much-needed work for Jonnie, as I logged some flight time in the CAP plane with my good friend and former squadron counterpart Dale.

I had discussed my financial dilemma with Chief Pilot Bob. As I learned, he was quick to capitalize on someone else’s misfortune and we discussed a method of payment in exchange for Certificated Flight Instructor (CFI) and Certificated Flight Instrument Instructor (CFII) training and airplane rental. After a review of assets, I offered up my paid-for MGB automobile, which seemed to interest him. We decided that I should bring the MGB to Atlanta, and he would evaluate it to see if it would equate to paying for airplane rental for my CFI and CFII, along with the instructor and ground training. I was sure it was worth more than that, but I was in a particularly sticky spot.

I borrowed my roommate Dawn’s Ford Ranger pickup to tow the MGB back from Shreveport and set out to bring the thing back. I rented a U-Haul trailer and with the help of Bonnie’s friend Dave loaded it up and got ready to head back. Dave was a Colonel in the Air Force Reserve and offered to have me stay in his assigned room at billeting for the night, you know, so I could get an early start in the morning. What a crock. He wanted to have Bonnie to himself instead of me sleeping in the guest room. I agreed to give Bonnie and him some privacy for whatever reason and enjoyed the night on base in the Colonel’s Distinguished Visitor Suite.

I had communicated with Bob, and he wanted me to bring the MGB by his house the following evening. They were throwing a party and I was welcome to attend. I wanted to make a big impression with him, so I planned to stop short of his house, unload the MGB, give it a quick polish and drive it up to the party so the guests could all ooh and ahh at the cute little sports car so he would be convinced to accept it as a medium of exchange for my instructor ratings. I hoped the MGB would not exhibit its usual stubborn trait of not wanting to start when cold. I had charged the battery before leaving Bonnie’s and hoped for the best.

After the long drive with the MGB in tow, I made it to Bob’s Atlanta suburb neighborhood about an hour after the start time of the party. I called from a gas station and said I would be there shortly and keep an eye out. I then unloaded the MGB from the trailer and after removing the cover, gave it a quick wipe, and put the top down. The electric blue paint glowed and glistened. She was a thing of beauty, and for a moment I regretted that I would have to trade her for instructor training. I climbed into the driver’s seat, crossed my fingers, and hit the starter. She fired right up and with the exhaust burbling happily, I drove it to the house and honked the horn. The entire party crowd came out to see the car and were excited. Bob took his wife around the block in the car, came back, and with a big grin on his face and in front of a dozen witnesses said, We have a deal! 

I began a series of ground training sessions with Bob in which we purportedly covered 37 hours of required CFI academic ground school training. I’m sure we covered it all, as he signed my logbook stating he had administered the training. In the middle of that, I had flown and made a