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I Wonder What Got Me Started?

I first learned to fly while stationed at Fort Hood in 1972. I don't remember what it was that sparked my interest in flying at that particular time. I may have taken a friend to the Killeen Municipal Airport and there saw small planes flying in the area, or parked on the flight line. Or maybe it was the continuous presence of helicopters flying over and around Fort Hood. Or maybe it was the re-emergence of an interest from years earlier.

It could have been memories of my first flight, a 16th birthday present. My parents bought for me a round trip ticket from Wichita Falls, Texas to Dallas Love Field. I boarded a Braniff International Airways prop-driven airliner. I took my seat and right away my knees started shaking. I didn't feel afraid, but they shook anyway! The takeoff run was something I'll never forget. Having nothing to really compare it with, it felt like a rocket. It was a very cloudy day and I remember the sight as the plane broke through the narrow layer of clouds. It was like moving from one world to another. The top of the clouds were bright white, being illuminated by the sun. It was like skimming over a field of snow.

At the terminal, walking around, waiting for the return flight to Wichita Falls. A jet airliner this time. Knees not shaking. More zoom down the runway. Back home in a flash. It was a fun birthday.

Whatever the spark, I found myself at Four Winds Aviation at the Killeen Municipal Airport, inquiring about learning to fly. I was met by one of the instructors. Out to the hangar and over to what turned out to be a Cessna 150, a small two-seat, high-wing airplane. After a thorough pre-flight with accompanying explanations, the instructor pulled the airplane from the hangar. I was sort of surprised that those little planes were so light - just under 1100 pounds, empty.

We got into the plane, me in the left seat and the instructor on the right. In fixed wing aircraft, the left seat is usually for the pilot-in-command. Another surprise was how cramped the cabin was. We were almost rubbing shoulders. Start-up and run-up, checking the flight controls and all of the instruments. Taxi out to the active runway. Radio call and take-off.

I was invited to get on the controls and follow the movements of the instructor. Climbing, diving, turns and straight and level flight. Back to the airport, landed and walked back to the office. Signed up for the private pilot course. The most memorable day was my first solo. Off the ground, all alone, no one to save me. Perfect flight. Back then, you needed a minimum of 35 hours flight time, dual plus solo, before you could take the flight test. They said I was ready after 35.8. Not too bad.

Maynard