Squawk1200

…or “All about my first foray into the world of aviation medical exams.”

I knew going into this that I was going to need a third class medical before I’d be able to solo.  I actually ended up sort of putting it off until after I got started, but once my logbook approached a Bob Hoover-like 5 hours, it was definitely time to get the medical out of the way.  Accordingly, I visited the FAA’s AME Locator and found an examiner just a couple of blocks away from work, and earlier this week, called for an appointment.  D-Day, H-Hour was to be 10:15 AM on the 20th.

In addition to getting my information and setting the appointment, the lady also directed me to the FAA’s site so I could fill out Form 8500-8 in advance.  This form turned out to be a medical history of sorts.  I initially thought I’d get the thing done during my lunch break at work, until I got to a section where I was supposed to list all my visits to medical professionals in the past three years.  Uh-oh.  You see, about 2.5 years ago, I got into a motorcycle accident.  My ER visit that day was followed by visits to multiple specialists and a fair amount of physical therapy.  I wasn’t even sure I could remember all the places I went, but at home that night, I worked up what I thought was a fair list and finished the application.  The website instructed me to write down my confirmation number and take it with me to my appointment.

Fast-forward a few days, and I found myself entering a doctor’s office for the first time in a few years. (Bad me!  No cookie!)  Upon introducing myself to the receptionist, I was given a form to fill out.  As I began, I suddenly realized it was the same thing I had done online a few nights before.

“You know, I already did this form online… do I still have to fill this one out as well?”

“Unless you brought that with you, yes.”

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to bring an electronic form with me, but oh well.  At least my memory of all those doctors’ visits was fresh.  It only took me a few minutes to finish the form, and when I returned it to the receptionist, she presented me- in a rather casual fashion- with some sort of bag.  No explanation was offered with said bag, but once I looked inside and saw the familiar shape of a urine sample container, I got the drift.  After a few minutes with which we need not deal here, I returned with my cup figuratively running over, positioned securely inside the bag.  This was where the morning got a bit entertaining.

As I entered the office, I approached the receptionist’s window again and placed my precious cargo upon the counter.  The reaction to this was priceless.  It was as if that collection jar emitted some sort of powerful repulsion field; as it came into view of the receptionist and settled on the counter, she slid away briskly in her office chair as if I was brandishing a deadly weapon.

“I don’t want it!!!!!!!”

Well jeez, neither do I… but there was to be no discussion on the subject, and soon I found myself relaxing on a waiting-room couch, still holding my sample in one hand.  Seemed a bit odd, but whatever.  Luckily, it was only a minute or two before a nurse retrieved me and relieved me of my cargo.

Back in the exam area, the first order of business was a trip to the scale (when did I get that heavy?), followed by a battery of vision tests.  Nothing really special here, just visual acuity, stereo vision, color vision, etc.  I was then led into an exam room, where I waited for a bit before having my pulse and blood pressure checked.  This was followed by some more waiting, until the doctor himself came in.  He briefly reviewed my history, got clarification on a few things, and then had me sit on the famous table with the paper on it.

What followed was a pretty basic medical checkup; he looked in my mouth and ears, listened to my lungs and heart, and did a few simple strength tests, checking that I had no weakness in a few specific movements. (such as pressing on a pedal)  He looked at the back of my eyes, palpated my abdomen, felt for swollen glands, and then did something a bit sneaky.  As he walked across the room to get something from the cabinet, he asked in a low voice, “Any hearing problems?”  Nope.  That was actually a bit of a self-test, sort of like if you call someone on the radio and ask if they can hear you.  With that, I was done… back in the waiting room, I sat for a few minutes while my certificate was made out, and before long, I was on my way back to work.

All in all, it was pretty anticlimactic.  I wasn’t expecting anything particularly in-depth, mind you, but seeing as how I hadn’t had a checkup in a few years, and how I’ve gotten pretty out of shape recently, there was a certain unknown element.  But it all turned out great, and only took about an hour and a half out of my work day- and now I just need a signature (well, and some improved skills) to go solo!

OK, the truth is that those words were not actually spoken during today’s flight, but it sure makes for a colorful title, and does sort of allude to one of today’s experiences.

This morning dawned with iffy weather.  My first lesson of the day involved the limitations of automatic weather.  Just before leaving the house the PDK METAR claimed that the skies were clear.  Temperature/dewpoint spread was pretty tight, which was a bit of negative information, but I put my trust in that clear sky claim.  The moment I walked out my door, I realized that while it might have been clear directly above the PDK weather station, it was most definitely not clear over my house.  In fact, there was a solid overcast at what might have been 100′ AGL.  As I drove towards PDK, though, I could see the edge of that particular patch of clouds, and by the time I go to PDK the skies were mostly clear above.

Once we determined that the weather would be OK for flying, it was time to go.  The primary subjects were to be slow flight and stalls.  We briefly discussed the maneuvers in the office so I would know what to expect, and then headed out to the plane.  Preflight, startup, taxi, runup, time for takeoff.

After Sunday’s successful pattern work, I must admit that I was feeling pretty confident about my flying.  I’d flown one takeoff along with multiple touch & gos, and felt that I had a pretty good handle on that portion of the program.  I suppose it was about time I got reminded that I’m still barely a five-hour pilot.  I taxied onto the runway, got lined up, throttle up full, and I proceeded to make a fairly impressive swerve to the left.  Not quite enough right rudder there, Forrest.  After rotation, whatever smoothness I thought I had previously seemed gone.  In my efforts to keep the plane on runway heading, I rocked back and forth a few times before finally getting settled down with the wings level.  After that bit of a rocky start, though, I got myself back under control and headed for the practice area.  Along the way, I got my first taste of flying above the clouds.  I’d done this before in commercial or other aircraft, but it’s a different experience when you’re not just a passenger.  Somehow that made the sight far more lovely.

Out over the lake, it was slow flight time.  For the most part, this was a straightforward task; come back with the power, let the airspeed decay, come in with flaps as appropriate, and as airspeed gets low enough, the power has to come back up to maintain level flight.  The result is the little Diamond mushing along at just over 40 knots, with the nose quite high indeed.  Forward visibility was essentially nil.  At these speeds, the controls take on a vastly different feel- in normal flight, just a bit of control pressure gets you a pretty instantaneous response.  Down at 40 knots, it’s sort of like a car from the 80s with that ridiculously overboosted power steering.  You feel more as if you’re giving the airplane suggestions instead of commands.  That’s not to say it’s uncontrollable; the responsiveness is just down the drain.  I performed a few turns in this configuration, getting used to the new need to really anticipate my rollouts.

Immediately after that, it was time for my first power-off stall.  Scott demonstrated one for me before turning the airplane back over to me.  The procedure here is pretty straightforward- essentially the idea is to get the plane in slow flight again, but pull out the power and attempt to maintain altitude until the stall horn sounds.  Once that happens, recovery involves dropping the nose below the horizon, coming full up on the power, and bring the flaps up a notch.  Done right, there’s almost no altitude loss.  This is a vital part of the maneuver- if one were to get into a stall situation close to the ground, minimal altitude loss is obviously an important consideration.

Next up: power-on stalls.  The idea here is to simulate a takeoff situation where the airplane is trying to climb too fast.  As such, entry involves slowing to approximately rotation speed with flaps set to takeoff, applying full throttle, selecting a too-high pitch attitude, and holding it until that pesky horn goes off again.  This brings us to the inspiration for the title of this post.  You see, there was a bit of a misunderstanding here- I was under the impression that I needed to continue bringing the nose up until the stall, as opposed to simply picking an unsustainable attitude and holding it.  I thought I was doing great… power up, bring the nose up, up, up, up… man, that’s pretty high… and then a voice spoke in my ear and said, “My airplane… let me demonstrate one for you here.”  I guess it makes sense that hammerhead turns won’t be covered until maybe the fourth or fifth lesson… 

After a few (correctly executed) power-on stalls, we wrapped up with some steep turn practice.  Here again was a maneuver that I had done fairly well on before, and found myself struggling with a bit today.  On my first few, I was way too slow getting back pressure on the stick entering the turn.  As a result, I started losing altitude in the turn.  I recognized this and moved to correct, which led to gaining altitude in the turn, which I then corrected for and started losing altitude again… you get the idea.  The resulting flight path probably looked quite a bit like the perimeter of a Pringle.  The next few were improved, but it was clear that I needed more practice- which shouldn’t be too surprising, given my miniscule flight time.  Back to PDK, I flew the pattern and got some much-needed experience at flaring waaaaay too early.

All in all, I’m finding the experience more rewarding as time goes on.  I was confident going into this that I’d do better than most students, but I was also mindful of my limitations.  Simulators are lots of fun, but they only teach so much, and while my first couple of flights seemed almost easy, I’m actually glad to be at a point where I’m feeling challenged.  I don’t think it would feel right any other way.

Well, this afternoon, I faced what I figured was going to be challenge- landing the aircraft, along with flying around in the pattern.  I was right about the challenge part; it took a lot of concentration on my part, but I came out unscathed.

Actually, there was another challenge before the landing part- getting out to the airport in Gwinett County.  Since 546DC was down with a flat tire, Scott and I squeezed in an hour of pattern work out at LZU.  Normally I fly out of PDK, which is just five miles or so from home, whereas LZU is nearly 25 miles- plus I’ve never been out there before.  I made the mistake of trusting my phone’s GPS navigation, which resulted in me barely making the field before 5, instead of being fifteen minutes early as I intended.  Oh well- the previous instructor and student were just getting back anyway, so I didn’t lose any time.

Out at the plane, we did an abbreviated preflight so we could get in the air.  This was going to be my first time performing the takeoff roll without assistance; I was a bit nervous, but confident.  Got us on centerline, throttle up, put in right rudder… more right rudder… more right rudder; oh, it’s time to rotate.  This was also my first time remaining in the pattern after takeoff; it turned out to be easier than I thought, and I got into a routine pretty quickly.  At 500′ AGL, bring up the flaps and turn crosswind.  Approaching pattern altitude, turn downwind, pull back throttle, level off at 2000′.  Watch out the right window; abeam the touchdown point, throttle comes back, flaps to takeoff, start the descent.  Bit further, turn base, continue descent; turn final flaps to landing, pick a aiming point, pitch for 65 knots, throttle to stay on slope.  Over the numbers, power comes out, flare, touchdown, flaps to takeoff, power up, back in the air.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

Now, I’d done all this a few hundred times in FSX, so I knew the mechanics, but the fun part was taking those mechanics and turning them into actual flying.  I made the transition easily, but at a cost: flying the pattern took nearly all of my concentration.  I was glad Scott was taking care of the radio calls and watching for traffic, because if I’d had to do those things, I’m certain I would have become task-saturated in a big hurry.  As it was, I didn’t even have the presence of mind to keep the plane trimmed until about my third time around.

By the time it was getting dark and we made a full-stop, I was feeling somewhat mentally exhausted.  On the one hand, I would have loved to fly some more, but on the other hand, I was glad to get on the ground and kind of absorb the experience.  Scott was impressed with my flying; I was, too, but as I mentioned, I was well aware that I’d need a lot more practice before I’m safe to do this alone.  Regardless, I had a blast, and I’m glad I made the decision to go to LZU to fly today.

Originally, I was scheduled to go fly this afternoon at 1, with the promise of a bit more basic maneuvering, and the real fun… landing practice.  Unfortunately, a bit of a kink developed.  I was awakened this morning my my buzzing phone.  You know how sometimes, when you wake up, you’re in that really stupid state?  That was me.  I had understanding that the phone was ringing, and that Scott’s name was on it, but somehow I couldn’t make the necessary mental connection to actually answer the thing.  But once I came to my senses, I gave Scott a call back.

Enter the bad news.  546DC was stuck in Dahlonega, GA, with a flat tire.  Since that’s the only plane Advanced has at PDK, that meant the previous plans were kaput.  But Scott made me an offer that was hard to refuse- some flight time in his Vans RV-7A.  After hesitating a bit, I took him up on the offer.  A quick shower and a short drive later, and I was out at PDK.  Scott wanted to fly up to Dahlonega to check out 546DC.  Fine with me!

As you might expect, the RV is quite different from the DA20; lighter, more powerful engine, short stubby wings… definitely lots more performance.  My first learning experience of the day was Scott demonstrating the necessity of right rudder just after takeoff.  As we were climbing through a few hundred feet, it went something like this: “Now, as I mentioned, you need that right rudder to keep the plane straight or else this “-[airplane suddenly yaws about 20 degrees left]-” will happen.” That was a pretty convincing demonstration.

Then Scott gave the plane to me, and I immediately started overcontrolling like crazy.  The RV takes a lot less control pressure than the Diamond, and I was all over the sky for a few minutes before I got the hang of it.  Scott took a few minutes to demonstrate the RV’s maneuverability, which was a drastic change from my gradual banks and pulls.  The RV rolls fast and feels great.  We also did a couple of steep turns- my first was pretty ugly, but on the second, I maintained altitude pretty well.

Dahlonega is stuck right in the foot of the north GA mountains, and a short-field landing is necessary; there’s a ridge on approach that’s a bit unnerving.  In fact, as we were on final, there were ridges above us on the right and left.  We took a quick look at 546DC, topped off the RV (gas is about $2 more at PDK), and then I got a short-field takeoff demo, which demonstrated that the RV climbs… well, fast doesn’t quite seem to cover it.  On the way back, I got a bit of experience using the PDK VOR for navigation; I’d flown off VORs before in FSX, and found the real thing to be easier, if anything.

Back at PDK, there was a glimmer of hope for the day:  the DA20 at Advanced’s LZU location was reserved up to 5, which would allow us to get in an hour or so of pattern work if I so desired.  Only downside is that I’d have to make the 30-minute drive to LZU.  I decided it was worth it.  Something about the idea of practicing landings makes me feel like  real pilot, and I’m eager to give it a whirl.  So I’ll relax a bit at home, and then go fly some more.  Hopefully I can get in some time this week or next weekend as well.

Here I am getting behind again… went flying Friday morning, and yet here it is Sunday afternoon and I still haven’t yet written about it.  Yes, the procrastination is strong with this one.  Better get my butt in gear.

Anyhoo, after Wednesday’s weather bust, Friday morning was about as good as it could get; no clouds, great visibility, winds calm… can’t ask for much more than that.  Showed up at PDK a few minutes before 7:30, and waited for Scott to show up.  A quick check of the weather and TFRs, and it was time to fly.

After taxiing to the end of the ramp it was time to call ground.  Scott gave me the usual rundown of radio communications (who I am, where I am, what I want to do) and asked if I wanted to call ground.  Well, I did, but this odd feeling of stage fright came over me, so I demurred and let him do the talking.  This would become a recurring theme as the day went on.

This time, I mostly flew the takeoff, though Scott was doing the rudder work to keep the plane straight.  As a sort of side effect of being a veteran simulator pilot, I’m not used to even thinking in terms of rudder- I can handle the stick and throttle OK, but I have to make myself use those funny pedals on the floor in flight.  Just another thing to overcome.

Approaching the practice area, we did our first exercise of the day.  Scott told me he’d work the throttle, and he wanted me to use the stick to keep the plane level no matter what he did.  I was quite stunned at the amount of back pressure it took to keep the nose up when he went to idle, but mostly I did OK.  Over the practice area, we did a few clearing turns, and then I spent some time working on gentle level turns.  I was still having trouble with indvertantly climbing the airplane… got to work on that.

Next came the real fun- my first attempt at a steep turn.   I think I acquitted myself pretty well after a couple tries, though I had a tendency to decrease my bank angle as the turn continued, which resulted in yet another inadvertant climb.  I’m still getting a feel for the control pressures I need, but hey… it is my first real lesson.  I suppose I should give myself a bit of a break.  After a few more steep turns and a little slow flight, we tuned back to PDK… I had to go to work still, and Scott had to get out to LZU to work with another student.

Remember my radio stage fright?  Yep, that came back.  As we approached the PDK airspace, Scott asked me to call the tower.  Uhhhh… OK, I know what to say… come on, it’s not that hard… uhhh…  Finally Scott took mercy on me and made the initial call.  Tower told us to call him back five miles out.  As we approached that point, Scott again prompted me to make the call.  I screwed up my courage and, to my surprise, actually sounded vaguely like I knew what I was doing.

“Peachtree Tower, 546DC is five miles out.”

“546DC, fly right downwind, cleared to land runway 2R.”

“546DC, right downwind, cleared to land 2R.”

Once I got past that first call, the readback just came out of its own accord.  Guess I just had to get over that hump.

So I flew the pattern, with Scott prompting me as we went on.  Turning final, we were a bit high, so the throttle went to idle while I kept us lined up.  Over the numbers, Scott took over and flared for a nice touchdown.  Clear of the runway, I taxied back to the ramp (doing much better than before) and then we were done for the day.  Before I left for work, Scott gave me what I considered to be quite a compliment: “You fly better than some licensed pilots I know.”  I’m not sure if that says good things about me or bad things about some pilots Scott knows, but I was glad to hear it.

I really need to get off my butt and get my medical taken care of… based on Scott’s feedback and my level of confidence, I feel I might be ready to solo pretty quickly, and I need to be ready for that.

Well, yesterday was supposed to be a red-letter day for me; I had scheduled my first real lesson for the afternoon.  Time to stop poking around and do something structured.  Alas, but I got my first experience with the weather changing plans.  Tropical storm Ida made landfall overnight Monday night, and all day Tuesday was rain, rain, and more rain.  But as of Tuesday evening, the forecast for Wednesday was looking somewhat optimistic.  Unfortunately, when I got up Wednesday morning, it was still raining.  Still, the forecast indicated that the rain would end early in the day.  I held out hope.

Once I got to work, I decided to be proactive and figure out aviation weather.  Accordingly, I found the METAR/TAF info for both PDK and LZU.  I had previously read some of the rules for deciphering these rather arcane bits of text, but I needed a refresher.  Wikipedia came through, and before long, I was keeping close tabs on the cloud state.  Early in the day, the clouds were low, generally broken at 500 feet and overcast at about 1500 or so.  But as the day wore on, the ceiling kept getting better.  By the time I was ready to leave for PDK, the overcast layer was up to nearly 4000′.

As soon as I got outside, though, my hopes fell.  It was drizzling a bit, and continued to do so as I drove to PDK.  On arrival, Scott confirmed that we wouldn’t be flying, so we elected to do a ground lesson instead.  I spent the next hour mostly reviewing things I knew or at least had some familiarity with: aircraft construction, nomenclature, principles of lift, flight controls, etc.  While I didn’t really learn anything revolutionary, I was able to connect some dots that I hadn’t known before, so overall, it was a beneficial bit of time.

I also picked up my student pilot kit.  Among other things, this kit contained my logbook, in which Scott promptly entered the time we’d spent on my discovery flight.  So even though I didn’t fly, it was still meaningful to get my first logbook entry.  I’ve spent the last day reading through my private pilot guide from the kit… already working on stuffing my head.

Tomorrow morning, we’ll try it again.  Weather looks good, so we should be able to get in an hour or so before I have to go to work.

That’s right folks, things are moving now.  The financial side of things is worked out, and as of a few moments ago, I scheduled my first lesson for next Wednesday.  I would have gone for Monday or Tuesday, but the forecast isn’t looking so great for those days…

I am definitely STOKED now!

Tom Petty one speculated that “waiting is the hardest part.”  I can vouch for that.  The great thing about my training situation is that someone else is going to pay for me to fly.  The downside is that that sort of puts me at that individual’s mercy.  After my discovery flight, I sought to nail down the terms of getting my flying started.  The terms of that agreement stipulated that I start my training in… February 2010.

noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

OK, OK.  In reality, I have absolutely no right to complain.  Given my situation, a few months is really a small concession.  Luckily, my financier was open to some discussion, so I asked about the delay, making it clear that I wasn’t trying to look this particular gift horse in the mouth… I was just damned excited.  So he’s currently considering some other ways to approach this.  Of course, I’d love to find out that  can start, oh, this weekend, but if I don’t, I’ll be OK.  But for now, I’m in limbo.

Yeah, the waiting is the hardest part. 

After Monday’s cold-weather bust, Tuesday afternoon actually ended up being really nice.  There definitely wouldn’t be any icing issues this time around.  I ducked out of the office just before 4:30 and headed for PDK, arriving about ten minutes before our 5:00 scheduled time.  Upon arrival, I got a bit of unexpected good news.  It seemed that the student and instructor who’d flown the DA20 earlier in the day had left something at LZU, where the main Advanced office is.  As such, instead of 30 minutes of tooling around, my flight would consist of a mission to LZU and back.  As you might imagine, I put up no fight at the prospect of additional flight time.

Down on the ramp, Scott and I went through the preflight, with me trying to do as much as possible from memory.  In no time, we were in the cockpit with the engine started, ready to go.  After we got ATIS info, Scott called up ground and got taxi clearance.  He got us out of the tight parking area, and then let me get in my first attempt at taxiing.  This turned out to be quite a humbling experience.  Since the DA20 has a castering nosewheel, at taxi speeds steering is done via differential braking.  I was having difficulty getting my feet positioned correctly, and I was also having difficulty figuring out the right amount of brake to get us back on centerline, but not over.  The result was a drunken weave that would have made a state trooper’s day.  At least I kept it on the taxiway.

On the way out, I got a glimpse into PDK’s reputation for activity.  We were taxiing behind a Cessna and a Piper.  Directly behind us was another 172, and as we approached the runup area, another 172 was already there.  The 172 behind us got instructions to run up on the taxiway- the four of us took up the entire runup space.  After runup, as we were holding short, a business jet was directly behind us.  Busy, busy, busy.  We got our takeoff clearance, and Scott took over for the roll.  I tried to do something useful by calling out airspeeds to him, since I figured the indicator might be tough for him to see.  Climbing through 1500′, Scott handed the airplane over to me.

A quick right turn put us on course for LZU, and after leveling off at 2500′, I did a few S-turns to get a feeling for the plane.  One thing I immediately noticed was that compared to other aircraft I’d had brief stick time in, the DA20 required almost no back pressure to stay level in a turn.  I found myself inadvertantly making climbing turns until I got a bit of a feel for things.  It seemed like no time at all before Scott was talking to the tower at LZU, and we had the field in sight.  I continued to fly into the pattern, with Scott helping out a bit, until we turned base, at which point I willingly gave the airplane back to Scott to get us safely on the ground.

In the Advanced office, I got to meet Bruce, the owner of the school.  Also, since the new PDK location didn’t have a credit card machine yet, I went ahead and paid for my flight at LZU.  Scott also showed me the student pilot kit they use.  After about 30 minutes, it was time to head back home.  I got another chance to embarrass myself as we taxied away from the ramp, though my zigzags had shrunk a bit.  Scott again flew the takeoff, but this time I got the plane only a couple hundred feet up.  The flight back was a bit more leisurely- I flew a couple of 360s and started to feel comfortable with maintaining altitude in a turn.

As we approached the PDK airspace, things got a bit more interesting.  The Tower frequency was full of chatter, and Scott had some difficulty getting a word in.  I ended up flying a few more 360s to keep us out of the airspace until Scott was finally able to talk to the tower so we could enter the airspace.  I continued to fly as we descended towards pattern altitude.  I was still flying when we turned base and final, though Scott was working the throttles on final- I just worked on staying lined up.  Scott didn’t fully take over until the last hundred feet or so.

Just like that, the fun was over.  After we secured the airplane, I checked the time- nearly two hours since I had arrived.  I’d gotten just over an hour of flight time for what was supposed to be a half-hour flight, and I’d had a hell of a time.  The Diamond is a great-flying aircraft.  Between the control stick and wonderful visibility, I found it much more pleasant than a Cessna.  Back in the Advanced office, Scott and I discussed the general structure of my training, and debriefed the flight a bit.  We then walked over to where Scott’s RV was hangared so I could show off my envy skills.  It was nearly 8:00 by the time I finally headed for home.

Bottom line, I don’t even feel compelled to check out any other schools.  I really like the DA20, and it’s cheaper to rent than a 172 at PDK.  I also really like Scott- he obviously loves flying and loves sharing that with others, and he was nice enough not to make fun of my drunken taxiing.  At this point, I still have to work out some details concerning financing before I can really start my training, and I hope it happens sooner rather than later.  I’m beyond ready to go at this point, and I feel really good about my ability to fly the airplane.

Monday morning dawned, cold and gray.  We were experiencing our first real cold snap of the year… in fact, over the course of a week we’d gone from mid-70 highs to a frost warning Monday morning.  It was barely above freezing when I pulled out of the driveway and headed for Advanced Aviation at PDK.  Morning traffic wasn’t too bad, and I got there with a few minutes to spare before 8:00.  Up in the office, I got to meet Scott, whom I’d only spoken with by phone previously.

As we chatted a bit, I learned that Scott had fairly recently actually left his full-time job so he could instruct instead.  It gave me a good feeling that he was teaching because he really enjoyed doing it, rather than just trying to build time for the next career move.  I also learned that he was the proud owner of an RV-7A- proud enough to break out the laptop and show me some construction photos.  Since I have a latent desire to build an RV of my own someday, this was all very interesting to me.

Back to the day’s flying- the immediate topic of discussion was the temperature.  Remember that frost warning?  Well, it had left a decent scale on the DA20, which had to be removed prior to flight.  And since the PDK Advanced office was new, there was no deicing stuff to be found.  A tentative plan was formed.  Scott and I headed down to the ramp with a stiff cleaning brush in hand, in hopes that it would be able to knock the frost off.  We also considered moving the plane into the sun to get some help from Mother Nature.

The brush turned out to work fairly well.  The ice on the wings came off readily, and as we worked on that, Scott also gave me a rundown of carrying out a preflight check.  Unfortunately, the ice on the horizontal stab was a little tougher, so we decided to taxi into the sun.  Into the cockpit we climbed.  My first impression was that at 6′4″, I was probably about at the limit of comfortable height for the DA20.  But I was actually pretty comfortable, though once I got the headset on, the top would occasionally bump the canopy overhead.  No biggie.

After starting the engine and taxiing out of the shade, we got back out.  The sun immediately started doing a number on the ice; within 20 minutes or so, Scott decided we were good to go flying.  Back in the cockpit, Scott had me run the before-start checklist.  All systems go, ignition to start… she doesn’t want to start.  Again and again we tried, with no luck, until it was clear the battery was getting low.  There would be no flying this morning- Scott offered to take me up in his RV, but after checking the time, I decided that I should head on into work.  We decided that Tuesday afternoon would be a good time for a do-over.

Scott apologized profusely, but I wasn’t really disappointed at all.  Just being out there, soaking up knowledge, was a great experience, even if I did stay on the ground.