Unrealistic Expectations

[SDF2BUF2MCO]

Turbo, I was in the same boat as your son at age 19 except deep down I still liked airplanes. When I was 14 we moved to Utah and lived in a neighborhood where there were (Hill AFB) Air Force pilots. Lived next door to a pilot and became best friends with his son. However, I was more interested in playing baseball at the time. Never really talked to his Dad about flying. Besides, I thought you have to be in perfect health (eye sight, hearing, good looks, etc.) to be an Air Force pilot. I was also under the impression all airline pilots came from the service so I never gave it another thought. Now it is obvious that good looks are the main requirement .
Finally got a "mentor" when we moved to NJ. Moved next door to a former WWII fighter pilot who flew P-38's and P-51's. This is my favorite era of aviation. He kept urging me to take up flying. Finally did after we moved to Louisville.
Getting back to your son. From personal experience, if he's good the scouts will find him. I had a three teammates who signed. Neither made it to the bigs though. Encourage him to enjoy the game and have fun. He'll probably play better too. At age 19 and playing college, we all thought we're going to turn pro!

 

[TurboS7]

My hand is very sore from catching him yesterday, he just gets tougher and tougher to play with everyday.Thanks.

 

[Typhoon1244]

Got a question for all you fathers (and mothers) out there. Most of the pilots I've talked to who have older children...their children went to one extreme or the other about aviation as they grew up. Either they lived and breathed airplanes, or they didn't want anything at all to do with them. (Maybe the parents pushed too hard....) Has anybody else noticed this all-or-nothing trend?

My son is five months old; this is a topic I think about a lot...alhought granted, I've got lots of time to think about it...like about eighteen years. As far as I'm concerned, he can do whatever makes him happy when he grows up...but I gotta admit, I'd sure like him to be interested in what I do.

 

[TurboS7]

2 sons 5 daughters and 1 wife. Oldest son could care less. My youngest son loves airplanes and has all his life. Oldest daughter loves airplanes and the next, middle daughter could care less, next daughter just loves horses, next daugher loves to travel. My wife a private pilot but a great one loves airplanes and loves to travel. Crazy the way it works out, I havn't put pressure on either or any of them one way or the other.

 

[avbug]

My kids will be whatever they'll be; it will be their choice, and I'll support them fully in it. (That's right...wilbur's gonna be the best heroin junkie on the planet...). No pressure to fly, but I'll help them if they want to.

When I turned eighteen and got a job in an AgTruck, I thought that there could be nothing better on God's green earth. When I flew a PB4Y I thought back to one of the fist model airplanes I built as a kid; a B-24, and remembered every moulded plastic rivet on that poorly constructed dream. I remembered it because I picked it out, and in a single parent family that couldn't afford new clothes or three meals a day, or heat for the house in the winter, I was lucky enough to get that model I coveted. I sat up late nights unable to breathe with painful asthma, concentrating on making that model the best I could.

Years later I flew the airplane, not just as a passenger, but a pilot. I revelled in it. Grattitude for the chance, payback to the boy who made me possible, humility for the thousands upon thousands who lost their lives in those airplanes who made my chance to fly today possible.

This summer I climbed back into an ag airplane, a tanker; certainly a far cry from what I've been flying. I took a temporary job, and I can't begin to describe the immense enjoyment and satisfaction at flying that airplane. Like a handpolished soul. It made my year.

The season ended and I was fortunate enough to still have my job back on salary again. The first flight was through a broken layer, and as we climbed, I looked at cloud canyons and virga and blue water below and blue sky above, and silently thanked God that the chance even existed. Inside, I questioned why I was so forutnate to be there, what I had done to deserve this marvellous opportunity, this blessing.

Last Sunday I attended the local drop zone to get checked out in their Caravan. I'm going to do a little relief work this winter. The takeoff and climb was routine, all the way to eighteen thousand. Slowed to 80 knots, put out ten degrees of flaps, and worked the yoke a bit while each stick of jumpers climbed out and fell away. Then retarded the power lever to idle, raised the flaps, rolled off into a steep left bank, and let the nose fall through vertical...and passed the jumpers on the way down. A beautiful sight that made my day, and my month.

I flew recently to Elko, and while there, two T-6's landed on their way to the Reno air races. I visited them, touched them, inspected them, and inwardly appreciated them. I felt lifted by the chance to simply be there, and then to listen to them, and watch them depart in formation. Not even the flying of them, but just the chance to watch, to listen, to smell the exhaust, was a privilege.

Right seat or left, turbojet or turboprop, flat piston or radial, how can we feel anyting but gratitutde and deep humility at being permitted to do what we do? As a kid we didn't have a television, we couldn't afford it. I dreamed about being able to make a flying model airplane, never even remotely daring to imagine that I coudl one day fly. Yet here I am. I am not lucky. There is no such thing as luck. I am blessed. I believe that what goes around, comes around. I have been provided a marvellous opportunity, and to be worthy of that, it must be shared.

The recent film "pay it forward" was just a film, but the concept is valid. Take your profession, your art, your gift, and share it. In one way or another, open the world to others. Forget those whose noses are so high in the air that it's snowing on their brains. Let them have their superiority and stupor. Revel in the chance to fly where man for millenia has only dreampt of going. Then share that joy, that reward, in your own way. Take your talents, whatever they may be, and repay the world around you for the gift.

Furloughed again, your gift goes beyond your flying; it's also in your words. Thank you for your comments here; they've lifted me.

 

[Britpilot]

You know, I wrote this as reaction to the many conversations and arguments I've shared with my flying partners over the last few months.

As a furloughed major airline pilot I often have a difficult time picking which side of the issue (any issue) I want to argue. My perspective is skewed by the time I spent in a Boeing cockpit.

Today though, I'm a regional airline pilot -- and I'm darned proud of it. I'm ecstatic to have found a flying job ... regardless of the fact that it is in the right seat of a turboprop. I love flying, so when one was offered, I took a job flying. I'm a pilot -- pilots fly.

Its different this time though. When I first went to work for the regionals in the early 90s the guys in the left seat had all been there before. Most of them not only flight instructed, but also flew freight or charter for a few thousand hours before being offered the "privilege" of flying a Metroliner into Utica, New York in the middle of a blinding snowstorm. These pilots had upwards of 3000 hours total time before they took this job flying a 19-seat Jetstream or Metro, 10 legs a day, with no autopilot.

I always had a smile on my face when I spun the prop (had to cool the shaft) after each flight because I was proud to be an "airline pilot".

Fast forward to today -- and back to the unique perspective that I wanted to share with you. Many of the pilots who were hired at the regionals in the late 90's (a decade) later were hired directly from university flight programs (UND, ERAU, you name it...). Many of them did very little flying outside of school -- maybe a few hundred hours of flight instruction and not much more. They came to the regionals and in less than two years -- sometimes less than a SINGLE year -- they have upgraded to Captain on high performance turboprops and regional jets. They have autopilots, EFIS, and FMCs...a long way from the Metros I flew a decade ago.

What amazes me is how ANGRY these pilots are.

They're angry that it took them so LONG (?) to upgrade.

They're angry that they're flying a prop, while their ex-room-mate is flying a jet.

They're angry that there is no flowthrough and that this precludes them from going directly to a major with no interview whatsoever.

They're angry that the pay and workrules they are operating under are not what they expected.

I think that their expectations were unreasonable -- and I blame it completely on the aviation universities. For four years these young men and women were groomed to expect greatness. They watched as their friends graduated and moved quickly to the regionals, flew for two or three years and moved on to United. Heck...many of those people were only at United for 4 or 5 years before they upgraded! Why didnt anyone tell them the truth?

These folks dont know what "Peoples Express" is. They vaguely nod if you mention "Braniff" or "Eastern". They heard something about a furlough in the early 90s -- but they were in elementary school then...

All they know is that they have the precious 1000 hours PIC turbine and why the HECK is Southwest not calling? And whats this OLD MAN doing in the copilots seat? "When I tell him that I expect to be at American in a year, why does he grin like that, silently staring out the window?"

Unrealistic expectations. We have an obligation to share what we've learned with these young men and women. To remind them that they really didnt jump any hurdles to get where they are -- frankly, they had it pretty easy compared to the generation that came before.

They'll never know the fear you felt conducting your first single-pilot ILS to minimums-100 in blowing snow with the aircraft covered in ice...the boss yelling, "fly or you're fired!".

They will never be able to understand what it was like being a copilot for 4 years in a 19 seat airliner...no autopilot ... Utica ... Syracuse ... Binghamton ... "May I take your bag ma'am? Yes I'm old enough to fly this thing." ... Watertown ... Ogdensburg ... "Was that lightning?" ... Plattsburgh ...

And you'll never catch them spinning the fan after we land in Binghamton on a snowy winter night.

So pardon me if I take a deep breath and stare out the window when you wax poetic about the Boeing 777 seat which is waiting for you. If I dont respond when you complain about how it took you 18 months to upgrade to captain on a PROP... forgive me.

I'm just happy to have a job flying... and its a beautiful day for flying isnt it? Mind if I take this leg Captain? Nah...I think I'll leave the autopilot off -- just for old time's sake.

Sir you speak the truth and I am with you.

 

[bobbysamd]

Flying - for it's own sake

Right seat or left, turbojet or turboprop, flat piston or radial, how can we feel anyting but gratitutde and deep humility at being permitted to do what we do . . . . Take your profession, your art, your gift, and share it. In one way or another, open the world to others. Forget those whose noses are so high in the air that it's snowing on their brains. Let them have their superiority and stupor. Revel in the chance to fly where man for millenia has only dreampt of going. Then share that joy, that reward, in your own way. Take your talents, whatever they may be, and repay the world around you for the gift . . . .

Great post, Avbug. Truer words were never written.

 

[FurloughedAgain]

Copilot's Lament

Co-pilots Lament
To the tune of, "A Cowboy's Lament"

(Capt. A. Keith Murray)

I am the co-pilot, I sit on the right
It's up to me to be quick and be bright
I never talk back & I have no regrets
My job's to remember what the captain forgets.

I make out the flight plan and study the weather
Pull up the gear and stand by to feather
I make out the mail forms and do the reporting
And fly the old crate when the captain is snoring.

I take the readings and adjust the power
Put on the heaters when we're in a shower
Tell where we are on the darkest night
And do all the book work without any lights.

I call for my captain and buy him Cokes
I always laugh at his corny jokes
And once in a while when his landings are rusty
I come through with "Captain! By GOLLY its gusty!"

All in all, I'm a general stooge
As I sit to the right of this overall Scrooge
But maybe some day with great understanding
He'll soften a bit and give me a landing.

 

[FD109]

Re: Copilot's Lament

Capt. A. Keith Murray


Just as a point of information:

Captain Keith Murray was an Eastern Air Lines Pilot. The last aircraft he flew was the DC-8-21.

If I remember correctly, he was based at JFK.

 

[beats working]

following dad's footsteps

I am now an airline pilot (or at least in class to become one in a few weeks). I have never loved a job as much this--and the only "flying" I've done yet has been as a jumpseat observer. The only job I ever dreamed of was being an airline pilot. For 12 years after college as a banker, management consultant, and general corporate stiff I had money and prestige, but little true happiness. (The line from AZaviator about "woulda, coulda, shoulda" rings true here.)

I realize, however, that my love for my current job is strengthened by my memories of my former jobs. I was previously bitter (partially at my hard core banker Dad) that I never had the courage to go against the flamily flow and do what I really love (flying). While I may wish for the seniority that would have resulted from coming to my senses 15 years ago, I am grateful for the perspective I have from the path I chose.

Cheers and thanks to all who have shared their feelings on this most amazing thread!

BW