Aviation happiness is an attitude
 

One sunny summer afternoon there was a Cessna 150 flying in the pattern at a quiet country airfield. The instructor was getting quite bothered with the student's inability to maintain altitude in the thermals and was getting impatient with taking over the controls. Just then he saw a twin engine Cessna 421 silhouetted against the cloud high above him and thought, "Another 1,000 hours of droning around in this spam can and I can qualify for that twin charter job! Aaahh, to be a real pilot going somewhere!"

The pressurized Cessna 421 was already late and the operations manager had read him the riot act over his delayed departure and pointed out this charter was for one of the company's best clients.

He'd already set Maximum Continuous Power and the cylinders of the geared and turbocharged engines didn't like it in the heat of this summer's day. He was at 16,000 feet and the winds were now 40 knots on the nose.

Today was the 8th day straight in the cockpit thanks to the dire pilot shortage and he was tired of dealing with these "high strung" powerplants. Maybe if he climbed higher the wind might die off... geez those cylinder temps!

He looked out momentarily and saw a B737 leaving a contrail at 35,000 feet in the serene blue sky. "Oh man," he thought, "My interview is next month. I hope I just don't blow it! Outta G/A, nice jet job, above the weather... no snotty passengers to wait for and no tempermental engines..."

The 737 bucked and weaved in the heavy CAT at FL350 and ATC advised that lower levels were not available due to traffic. The captain, who was only recently advised that his destination was below RVR minimums, had slowed to Long Range Cruise (LRC) to try and hold off a possible in-flight diversion, and arrange an ETA that would helpfully ensure the fog had lifted to CAT II minima so he would have a good chance of landing at his destination.

The Company negotiations broke down yesterday and looked as if everyone was going to take a dang pay cut. The First Officers would be particularly hard hit as their pay wasn't anything to speak of anyway.

Finally deciding on a speed compromise between LRC and turbulence penetration, the captain looked up and saw a Concorde zipping by at Mach 2+. Tapping his F/O's shoulder as the 737 took another bashing, he said "Now that's what we should be on... huge pay ... super fast... not too many routes... not too many legs... above the CAT... yep! What a life...!"

FL590 was not what he wanted anyway and he considered FL570. Already the turbine air inlet temperature was creeping up and they would have to descend or slow down. That dang rear fuel transfer pump was becoming unreliable and the Flight Engineer had said moments ago that the radiation meter was not reading numbers that he'd like to see. Concorde descended to FL570 but the radiation was still quite high even though the NOTAM indicated hunky dory below FL610.

Fuel flow was up and the transfer pump was intermittent. Evening turned into night as they passed over the Atlantic. Looking up, the F/O could see a tiny white dot moving against the backdrop of a myriad of stars. "Hey captain," he called as he pointed, "Must be the Shuttle."

The Captain looked for a moment and agreed. Quietly he thought how a Shuttle mission, while complicated, must be the-be-all-and-end-all in aviation. Above the crap, no radiation problems, no dang fuel transfer problems... aaah. Must be a great way to earn a buck."

Discovery was into its 27th orbit and perigee was 200 feet out from nominated rendezvous altitude with the commsat. The robot arm was virtually U/S and a walk may become necessary.

The 200 foot predicted error would necessitate a corrective burn and Discovery needed that fuel if a walk was to be required. Houston continually asked what the Commander wanted to do but the advice they proffered wasn't much help.

The Commander had already been 12 hours on station sorting out the problem and just wanted 10 minutes to himself for a potty break. Just then a mission specialist, who had tilted the telescope down to the surface for a minute or two, called the Commander to the scope.

"Have a look at this sir, isn't this the kinda flying you said you wanted to do after you finish up with NASA?" The Commander peered through the telescope and cried, "Ooooohhhhh yeah! Now that's flying! Man, that's what it’s all about! Geez I'd give my left arm just to be doing that down there!"

What the Discovery Commander was looking at was a Cessna 150 in the pattern at a quiet country airfield on a nice bright sunny afternoon.

Having flown a fair number of planes and helicopters on most conceivable mission profiles, I can assure private aviators (and others who will listen) that there is nothing as grand as flying when you want, where you want and with whom you chose in a light airplane.

While it is common practice for ego boosted aviation folks to want to fly higher and faster planes and add another notch to their bragging rights, in time they will simply learn that returning to those basic flying roots really provides the most fulfillment.

Peace and pleasure come from within and those who can see the complete picture as related in the preceding story will be much closer to finding Nirvana, or some such elevated plane, during their tenure on, or above, this planet.