0545 - I report to school to check on the weather and complete the endless array of paperwork needed to complete the upcoming tasks. At 0630 I'm greeted by K.B., a friendly 60-ish man who's one of ATP's two designated checkride examiners. Behind a closed office door, we sit down and he tells me what to expect about today's events. After the oral exam, we'll take a flight where I will be, in effect, carrying my first passenger and he'll expect a nice ride.
"Tell me about your aircraft."
"Tell me about the engine in your aircraft."
"Describe the electrical system in your aircraft."
"What are the required inspections needed for your aircraft and how often do they need it?"
"Tell me the V-speeds for this aircraft."
"Define density altitude."
"What's advection fog?"
"What's hypoxia? How can you tell if someone has it and what do you do about it?"
"Carbon monoxide poisoning... same questions."
"Describe wind shear."
"What's P-factor?"
"Define adverse yaw."
"Show me on the map where a Mode C transponder is required."
"What's the minimum visibility requirements for VFR flight in class G airspace at night?"
And on... for two hours.
When I was twelve, I competed in the San Diego County Spelling Bee. I couldn't tell you what words I spelled correctly, but I'll never forget the word I tanked*. Similarly, I'll always remember the one question that I completely missed on this day.
"Is participation in separation services mandatory in a Terminal Radar Service Area?"
Turns out that it's not. I still passed.
I drew a lucky card in getting 441CA, the bird that got me through my first set of good landings and my first solo. A call to weather services confirmed what I was a little worried about... the nearby front had shifted the winds and instead of taking off from the usual runway 1-6, I had to depart from 3-4, which I hadn't done before. No big deal, really... but I'm starting to wonder if there were any more curveballs coming my way.
Good takeoff and smooth air heading south toward Hillsboro. About halfway there, K.B. asks me to divert to Lancaster. Christ... Pennsylvania? California? I hadn't even heard of the Texas one. I whipped out my sectional chart and found it... just beyond good ol' Mid-Way Airport, where I'd been a hundred times, and was within sight at my 8-o'clock. I turned and headed that way, which put us on a perfect course for Lancaster. After I convinced him that I knew what I was doing navigationally, he had me demonstrate some maneuvers. Steep turns, check. Slow flight, check. Power-on stall, check. Power-off stall, check. Emergency landing, check.
"Never mind Lancaster. Take me to Mid-Way and show me some landings."
Along the way, K.B. hands me a things-that-can-go-wrong list. "What would you do if you experienced each of these?"
- partial or complete power loss
- engine roughness or overheat
- carb icing or induction icing
- loss of oil pressure
- fuel starvation
- electrical malfunction
- vacuum/pressure and associated instrument malfunction
- pitot/static malfunction
- landing gear or flap malfunction
- inoperative trim
- inadvertent door or window opening
- structural icing
- smoke/fire/engine compartment fire
Short-field and soft-field takeoffs and landings at Mid-Way (also on the runway opposite the one I'm used to) go well. Keep in mind... a pilot on a checkride is waiting to hear the words "take me back to our airport". The earlier it's said, the worse the news. It's about this time that I hear it from K.B., and I'm only mostly sure that it's good news. A well-executed short-field landing and a taxi back to our ramp later, K.B. breathes.
"Congratulations. You've passed this test." I'm a pilot.
More paperwork and some congratulations from my mates back at the classrooms, and I'm off for the rest of the day. Celebration dinner and beers at Dave & Brittany's, where I'm asleep before midnight. I've got tomorrow off to let it all sink in.
* Jacamar. Not J-A-C-K-A-M-A-R.
1 comment:
Riveting! Holy shit, you're cool.
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