Teenage Angst
Aggressively, I cranked the steering wheel over as we entered the first turn of the s-curve near Walters Lake. The tone of the 1983 Firebird's tires against the pavement changed, not quite to a squeal, but tickling the edge. As the road straightened, it undulated, periodically disappearing below the limited breadth of the headlights, giving momentary impressions of careering blindly through the dark of space.
I did not have a driver's license yet. Mom thought that I was too timid behind the wheel, that my lane centering was poor, and that I was too slow to correct deviations. For my part, I had little interest in driving and viewed the whole endeavor as a chore.
Mom had interrupted whatever "important" thing I was doing that evening, dragged me out of the house, and insisted that I drive. Whatever irritation I felt at the interruption was refocused and intensified through a lens of teenage angst and I was determined that she would regret pressing me into service as chauffeur.
As the pavement twisted in the opposite direction, I hauled the wheel over again and the Firebird's prominent nose tracked razor-true along the lane as I accelerated through the turn. When the road straightened, I settled slightly into the seat, clenched my teeth, and waited for the criticism to come.
"That was really well done. I think you're finally ready for your license," she said completely without irony.
Why Do You Fly?
Somehow, I transitioned from timid driver to 1,800+ hour pilot.
My first time taking the controls of a light aircraft, a Citabria, was a revelation. I delighted in the intimacy of the experience, in the subtle sensations of control surfaces interacting with the relative wind. I found joy in the tactile quality of being directly connected. I was reminded of cruising downhill at high speed on a bicycle, of how even the smallest defects in the road were transmitted through the frame and immediate changes in trajectory were precipitated by subtle twists of the handlebars. In the name of comfort, automotive engineers have largely eliminated such direct feedback from cars. My initial reluctance behind the wheel came from a feeling of being disconnected from the physicality of driving, which led me to doubt that I was actually in control. Not so for a small airplane. A small airplane was like a bike and flying one was an honest experience. And I loved it.
That is why I learned to fly.
Aviation offers an incredible perspective on the beauty of the Earth. It gives insights into grand designs that are hidden from observers on the ground. Twisting loops of highway ramps untangle when viewed from above, becoming symmetrical concrete flowers that open only for aviators. A camera became my constant companion in flight, a limited means of bringing some of that beauty back to Earth. I relished both the physical act of directing a ship through the air and the unparalleled vistas that flying brought into reach.
That is why I bought an airplane.
With wings at my immediate disposal, I developed a love of exploring. What would I discover beyond the horizon? Who would I meet at the next new airport and what would I find there? Over time, I ranged farther and farther away in search of new places to visit and new vistas to capture in my camera's eye. These longer journeys brought me back into contact with distant friends and family and I came to realize that the airplane was a bridge. It connected me with people who mattered most. My airplane was a time machine that lowered barriers and made possible visits that we would not have undertaken by car. For all of its virtues, aviation's most transcendent quality is a simple ability to strengthen human connection.
That is why I continue to own an airplane and why being a pilot in 2018 was so important.
Celebrating Normal
In March, I visited Mom in Michigan to celebrate her defeat of cancer. She met the disease head on and beat it. Every tool available to modern medicine declared that the scourge was vanquished. We celebrated the return to a normal life.
| Date | Aircraft | Route of Flight | Time (hrs) | Total (hrs) |
| 21 Apr 2018 | N21481 | SDC (Sodus, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - SDC | 1.8 | 1775.8 |
Mom visited us in April, flying with me and The Bear to "Fuzzy" (Oswego County Airport, FZY) to sample the new Tailwinds Diner for breakfast.
Though every scan failed to detect evidence of cancer, the pain never quite went away and, in late June, Mom was back in the hospital. On June 30, The Bear and I flew to Oakland County International in Michigan to spread some cheer.
Forget the Cheese, Who Moved My Airway?
A GPS-direct route from Oakland County International to Sodus has always proven elusive. When left to its own devices, the FAA prefers a departure route via MOONN intersection that forces a crossing of Lake Erie. Though it may be a preferred route for Air Traffic Control (ATC), it is not preferred by me. A few years ago, I started including a "request no flight over Lake Erie" comment in my flight plans, which effectively put an end to ATC forcing the route via MOONN. To satisfy an apparent need to be on an airway when exiting metropolitan Detroit airspace, I began filing via Victor 2. Victor 2 began well east of Rochester, crossed the Rochester and Buffalo VORs, continued along the north shore of Lake Erie, passed over the Aylmer VOR in Canada, then plunged directly into Detroit's Class Bravo airspace. As an airway route, it was an effective compromise and did not significantly lengthen flight time versus going direct. My last use of Victor 2 when returning from Oakland County International was on May 19.
While planning to launch for southeast Michigan on June 30, I discovered that it was gone. The FAA deleted Victor 2 for all points west of Buffalo. Closure of a physical highway would have left a tangible artifact behind. Not so for Victor 2. It was simply gone.
Poof.
In place of Victor 2, two shiny new T-routes (GPS-based airways) popped into existence over southern Ontario, T608 and T781, that come together at HAVOK intersection near London, Ontario. From T781, ADRIE intersection appeared to be a suitable transition point between the airway and Oakland County International. This is progress. Still, I am a little sad that riding the radio beam between Michigan and New York is no longer an option.
A Victory Too Short
| Date | Aircraft | Route of Flight | Time (hrs) | Total (hrs) |
| 30 Jun 2018 | N21481 | SDC (Sodus, NY) - PTK (Waterford, MI) - SDC | 5.9 | 1807.5 |
The Bear and I filed the new route to Michigan, though we were cleared direct to Oakland County while partway across Ontario. After a bumpy run through the clouds on the RNAV 27L instrument approach procedure, we shut down on the ramp at Michigan Aviation. As usual, Scott was there to greet us. I had requested a courtesy car in advance and it was waiting next to where we parked, already idling with the air conditioning at maximum to counter the hot day. Michigan Aviation has always been generous with their crew cars and I always repay that generosity by topping off the fuel.
 |
| Mom and The Bear, October 21, 2017 |
At the hospital, Mom was uncharacteristically tired. Her system was awash in pain medication and she struggled at times to express herself clearly. I remember little of our conversation except for two phrases: "stage four pancreatic cancer" and "no treatment options".
She delivered this news with such placid grace that I struggled to reconcile her words with the way she spoke them. I had no words in response and simply sat in stunned silence trying to force myself to process this unwelcome information.
Others came and went during our visit and all struggled with the news. "Hope you feel better soon," came one absent-minded parting comment reflecting the denial we all felt.
I immediately thought of our pending journey to Alaska. Just two days later, Kristy, The Bear, and I were scheduled for a two week trip in Alaska, an adventure that was two years in the planning. "Go on your vacation," Mom urged. "I'll still be here when you get back."
Eventually, it came time for us to go home. The Bear was hungry and cranky. She had became withdrawn, a clear sign that she understood something bad was happening, even if she neither fully grasped the meaning of Mom's revelation nor the depth of its implications. Mom stood uncomfortably, painfully, so that The Bear and I could hug her simultaneously. Only then did her serene exterior crumble.
How many more times will I be able to hug my mom? As much as the unbidden question troubled me, more troubling was the realization that an answer was waiting in the near future.
Compartmentalization
As we drove back along M59 toward Oakland County International, I was filled with worry. As a son, I worried about the seismic changes coming. As a father, I worried about my daughter's emotional well-being. More immediately, as a pilot, I worried about whether I could safely fly us home that evening. Stress, worry, and distraction are antithetical to the conduct of a safe flight.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery famously wrote, "I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things." This is true. The mental focus required for aviating pushes trivial thoughts aside and they simply fade into the background. However, the news that we received in the hospital was hardly petty or trivial.
From experience, I would offer that even important things dim in priority while flying. For me, thoughts outside the sphere of aviating, navigating, and communicating are necessarily deprioritized while at the controls. Flying is an incredible aid to compartmentalization. To my mind, that is one of aviation's many blessings.
I was able to refocus while flight planning, only stumbling once when I habitually tried to plot a route home via Victor 2 and was unable.
Right. Because the FAA deleted it...and my mother is dying.
I cannot say why I conflated these very different ideas. Regardless, I needed to pause and collect my thoughts before plotting and filing a reverse of the ADRIE route that The Bear and I used that morning. Preparing for flight and returning to the familiar discipline of bringing Warrior 481 back to life settled my mind into a comfortable aviation groove.
"Pontiac Ground, Cherokee Two One Four Eight One, Michigan Aviation, Kilo, IFR to Sierra Delta Charlie, requesting clearance."
"Cherokee Two One Four Eight One is cleared to Sierra Delta Charlie via radar vectors, then as filed; climb and maintain three thousand, expect seven thousand one zero minutes after departure, departure frequency one two seven point five, squawk four seven five two."
"Cleared as filed" from Oakland County to Sodus! That was a first. I had stumbled upon a unicorn clearance and its discovery stands as one small aviation achievement for the day.
I read back the clearance, verified that we were ready to taxi, and acknowledged our taxi instructions. My radio communications were crisp and on-point and, with that being the case, I knew that I was mentally fit for flight. Radio communication has always been a litmus test for me. If am distracted, poorly rested, or muddled in any way, my radio work is always the first thing to unravel.
Good, I thought to myself. Because I have precious cargo on board. The Bear was already fully engaged in something on her iPad and happily isolated from ATC chatter with the flip of a switch on the Warrior's audio panel.
Airborne, Detroit Departure queried me about the first fix along my route. "I am unfamiliar with ADRIE, say on course heading." I was glad to know that unfamiliar intersections are problems for air traffic controllers, too. In the coming weeks, I would have many discussions with Detroit Approach about ADRIE, many of them having different outcomes.
"Zero four five for Cherokee Four Eight One."
After a brief pause, "Cherokee Four Eight One, direct ADRIE, climb and maintain five thousand."
With that, we climbed away from metropolitan Detroit and made our way home. For my part, I took solace in the familiar regimen of flying across Canada on an IFR flight plan and the compelling beauty of the world passing below our wings.
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