THE VINTAGE INSTRUCTOR
Invulnerability DOUG STEWART I once had a client who owned a straight tailed Cessna 150. His airplane, although not a show winner, was in rather decent condition. The owner was contemplating relocating to Arkansas where he was hoping to buy some property with enough acreage to put in a runway, albeit a short one. In anticipation of his potential operation out of a short runway, he decided to put a STOL kit on his airplane. The STOL kit certainly improved the short field performance of the 150. Pulling up the Johnson bar to get 40 degrees of barn door flaps gave a fairly short landing as it was, but with the addition of the droop tips and vortex generators to the wings it was possible to land this airplane and clear the runway in less than 350 feet, without much effort. One day this client decided he would do an experiment to see another way in which the STOL kit affected the airplane’s performance. Without consulting anyone on the ground he took off and began to climb up over the airport. And he climbed…and he climbed. After a while he was barely visible from the ground. This airplane, although able to land and take off in rather short distances, was not a rocket ship in climb. Slowly the airplane’s best rate and best angle climb speeds converged as he got closer and closer to the service ceiling of his little aircraft. Determining the increase in service ceiling and then finally the absolute ceiling was his self-imposed mission. Who knows how long it took him to climb above 12,500 feet (any time spent above this altitude beyond 30 minutes requires oxygen for flight crewmembers, per regulation), or above 14,000 feet (oxygen all the time) before he finally reached that point where the airplane would no longer climb. I do know, however, that he did not have oxygen on board his airplane. Not only was he demonstrating the hazardous attitude of anti-authority, but he was also risking his life as he demonstrated the hazardous attitude of invulnerability. After hearing of his foolish exploit I sadly had to admit to myself that I had failed in trying to foster safe flying habits in this pilot. This same person, as a student pilot of mine, had demonstrated the very same hazardous attitude of invulnerability on a dual cross-country flight we had taken. It was a winter day, and there were scattered snow showers about. One of these snow showers lay directly in front of us as we flew towards our destination. I waited for
him to turn and deviate around the snow shower, but instead he penetrated right into the snow. As the forward visibility immediately dropped to less than a mile, he turned to me, and with a huge grin said, “Don’t you just love flying in the winter?” I was astonished. He had seen the snow in front of us, and rather than deviate around it, had flown right into it. My response to his question was, “Tell me, what the h… are you going to do now?” To which he responded that he would just continue straight ahead and we should come out the other side, hopefully, in just a little while. My questioning about the mountains, some of which were not much below our altitude and laying to either side of our route did nothing to impress upon him the danger of our current situation. Taking charge I had him enter a 180-degree turn, which at this point had to be done on the instruments, as our forward visibility had dropped to almost nothing although we could still see down. As we exited the snow squall I entered a dissertation on the risks that he had just exposed us to. But apparently this fell on deaf ears. Although this pilot was in his late fifties, his mentality was that of a teenager. A mentality that says: “It can’t happen to me! I’m immortal!” Whereas I was able to teach this pilot good stick and rudder skills, I was unable to convey upon him the requirements of good aeronautical decision making. Throughout the rest of our training together I would attempt to reinforce the lessons we had learned that snowy day in the mountains of New Hampshire, but apparently I was unsuccessful. As the saying goes: “you can lead a horse to drink…but you can’t make him water” or something to that effect. So it is with many pilots. No matter how hard one tries it is sometimes impossible to teach good decision-making habits. As I have said in the three previous articles, the difficulties with hazardous attitudes are threefold. First we must recognize the fact that we harbor the attitude in the first place. Second we must learn the antidote for the hazardous attitude, and then, finally, we must apply the antidote. The antidote for the attitude of invulnerability is: “It could happen to me.” But if you carry feelings of omnipotence and invincibility within yourself you will probably have a real hard time convincing yourself that yes, it certainly could happen to you. I can’t help but think of another pilot I
knew, the owner of an old Mooney M20, who departed on his first flight after obtaining his instrument rating into known icing with three passengers on board. I heard how he had received the lecture of his life from his instructor, after exposing not only himself, but also three innocent and oblivious passengers to great risk on that flight. But that lecture was to no avail, for not long after that flight he proceeded to fly across the Sierra Mountains at altitudes above 14,000 feet without oxygen. He related to me how he “knew everything was OK, because I was able to do very complex mathematical equations in my head, and come up with the right answer.” Right. I’ll agree that at least he thought he had the right answers. For this particular pilot the problem was not that he could not apply the antidote to his attitude; he couldn’t accept the fact that he had a serious hazardous attitude in the first place. Even with numerous people telling him of the risk to which he exposed himself, he continued to do it. What finally saved his bacon was a woman he fell in love with. When my ex-wife said to me, “It’s me or the airplane.” I had to say, “Gee, I sure am gonna miss you!” But when the ladylove of the aforementioned pilot gave him the same ultimatum, his old Mooney quickly went on the auction block. Since he had refused to accept the fact that he had some hazardous attitudes that were seriously threatening his safety, this was probably the best thing that could have happened to him. I certainly hope that all of you reading this article are not of like character. We all, including myself, harbor at least one, if not more, hazardous attitudes within our being. Learning to recognize that fact, then learning the antidote to the attitude, and, most importantly, applying that antidote will keep us flying a lot longer. If you are one of those people who feel invulnerable, you need to remind yourself that the truth of the matter is: It can happen to you! Applying this antidote to your attitude will be one of those things to help you transition from being a good pilot, to being a GREAT pilot. I hope you are up to the task! Doug flies a 1947 PA-12. He is the 2004 National Certificated Flight Instructor of the Year. Visit his website: w w w.dsflight.com . Vintage Airplane
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