Sunday was much cooler than Adventures in Aviation, Part Une, but Camarillo is proving to be unpredictable. Relatively clear skies soon turned into a windy, cloudy mess. But by golly, I actually wore tennis shoes for this flying lesson (as opposed to flip flops – I’m Misses Responsible)! There was no way I was going to let the weather get the best of me. I was determined, and angry.
“Oh no you don’t, you damn thermal. You’re not going to mess with my near perfect altitude stability. Take that!” And I pitched my nose down. “Hi turbulence. You think you’re so bad, trying to scare me with all the bumping and bouncing. You don’t scare me. You’re probably just mad because your mother never loved you. Well, I’m really sorry about that, but I got an airplane to fly so piss off.” And I gripped the stick firmly.
I was in battle and the weather was my opponent. I was feeling good; more confident than I had ever felt in the pilot’s seat. But every good experience has its gotcha. Mine happened as we were coming in for landing, not 1000 feet from the airport, and my sharp 90 degree turn to get us in line with the runway caused a near stall. Stall means: I ALMOST KILLED US. I don’t think I’ve ever said “You’re plane!” as fast as I did when Wes made me aware of this. Nothing like a little stall to add a cherry on top of my fledging flying confidence.