as she thought things were under control, a strong thermal off the end of the runway jolted the plane, bounced her up out of her seat and banged her head on the ceiling. Totally dazed, she remembered her instructor’s advice.
If you don’t feel right on the approach, always be prepared to go around.
Diving down towards the runway, she shoved the throttle full forward and took out the carburetor heat. She pulled up the flaps and “crop dusted” down the runway gaining airspeed. At seventy knots she started to climb.
“ Winder traffic, Eight Three Sierra, departing Runway 27.”
She wondered what Furgeson was thinking. Her confidence was shot. She worried he might regret letting her solo so soon. God forbid, should I miss another approach, he’ll be calling for fire trucks. She was a nervous wreck, soaked in her own sweat.
On the second try, she decided to extend her downwind and delay pulling power. She turned final early to give more time to think her way through the approach. On short final she could see the numbers clearly. The VASI lights were right where they should be, white over red, indicating a perfect three-degree descent. She set up the cross wind slip early, right aileron to counter the drift and left rudder to point the nose down the runway. Approaching with full flaps at fifty knots, she felt much more comfortable. As the runway came up slowly, she tried to talk herself through a full-stall landing.
“ Just relax, girl, you can do it.
Pull the power.
Back easy on the yoke.
Fix your eyes on the far end of the runway.
Back smoothly now, no jerking.”
A thermal jolted the little plane once again. She compensated by releasing back-pressure.
“ Relax, relax.”
The runway rose up smoothly just below her landing gear as the airspeed decelerated.
“ Hold it off, now. Make it a full stall.
Keep that nose coming up.
Hold it off. Hold it off.
Drifting again, right aileron, left rudder.
On back, hold it off.”
Nose high, the yoke was all the way back in her gut. The stall warning sounded just as the tires squeaked softly onto the runway, first the right tire, then the left. She lowered the nose smoothly releasing back-pressure and used the rudder to keep the plane pointed down the center line.
“ Thank God for small miracles!” she shouted. Excited by her accomplishment, she taxied back to the hangar and cut the engine. She was surprised when she saw Furgeson casually standing with his legs crossed, leaning against the hangar and chewing on a piece of straw. He didn’t look the least bit worried.
As Christina exited the cockpit, she wasn’t feeling very lady-like. She had grease on the back of one hand, and her white blouse was ringing wet with perspiration. The headset had squished her hair off to one side in a real mess. Femininity’s not the issue , she mused. She stood tall and strolled up to her instructor filled with wonder and pride.
“ So, how do you feel now?” Furgeson asked.
“ Like a dumb shit for having to go around. I got totally balled up on that first approach. Damn thermal banged my head on the ceiling. Should’ve had my seatbelt tighter.” She rubbed the top of her head feeling for a lump.
“ Are you kidding?” bragged Furgeson. “Goddam unbelievable! I’ve soloed hundreds, and you’re the very first one that had enough brains to go around. Most of ‘em just bounced the damn thing down the runway. I had one guy that hit the ground in a panic. He instinctively hit the right rudder like the brake pedal on his car and ended up out in a bean field.” Furgeson grinned and threw the straw on the ground. He picked up his old Polaroid camera and snapped a shot.
“ Well, thanks, I guess.” Christina was so relieved. “Damn glad it’s over, that’s for sure. I’ve got a lot more confidence now.”
“ I have to tell you, girl, that full-stall
If you don’t feel right on the approach, always be prepared to go around.
Diving down towards the runway, she shoved the throttle full forward and took out the carburetor heat. She pulled up the flaps and “crop dusted” down the runway gaining airspeed. At seventy knots she started to climb.
“ Winder traffic, Eight Three Sierra, departing Runway 27.”
She wondered what Furgeson was thinking. Her confidence was shot. She worried he might regret letting her solo so soon. God forbid, should I miss another approach, he’ll be calling for fire trucks. She was a nervous wreck, soaked in her own sweat.
On the second try, she decided to extend her downwind and delay pulling power. She turned final early to give more time to think her way through the approach. On short final she could see the numbers clearly. The VASI lights were right where they should be, white over red, indicating a perfect three-degree descent. She set up the cross wind slip early, right aileron to counter the drift and left rudder to point the nose down the runway. Approaching with full flaps at fifty knots, she felt much more comfortable. As the runway came up slowly, she tried to talk herself through a full-stall landing.
“ Just relax, girl, you can do it.
Pull the power.
Back easy on the yoke.
Fix your eyes on the far end of the runway.
Back smoothly now, no jerking.”
A thermal jolted the little plane once again. She compensated by releasing back-pressure.
“ Relax, relax.”
The runway rose up smoothly just below her landing gear as the airspeed decelerated.
“ Hold it off, now. Make it a full stall.
Keep that nose coming up.
Hold it off. Hold it off.
Drifting again, right aileron, left rudder.
On back, hold it off.”
Nose high, the yoke was all the way back in her gut. The stall warning sounded just as the tires squeaked softly onto the runway, first the right tire, then the left. She lowered the nose smoothly releasing back-pressure and used the rudder to keep the plane pointed down the center line.
“ Thank God for small miracles!” she shouted. Excited by her accomplishment, she taxied back to the hangar and cut the engine. She was surprised when she saw Furgeson casually standing with his legs crossed, leaning against the hangar and chewing on a piece of straw. He didn’t look the least bit worried.
As Christina exited the cockpit, she wasn’t feeling very lady-like. She had grease on the back of one hand, and her white blouse was ringing wet with perspiration. The headset had squished her hair off to one side in a real mess. Femininity’s not the issue , she mused. She stood tall and strolled up to her instructor filled with wonder and pride.
“ So, how do you feel now?” Furgeson asked.
“ Like a dumb shit for having to go around. I got totally balled up on that first approach. Damn thermal banged my head on the ceiling. Should’ve had my seatbelt tighter.” She rubbed the top of her head feeling for a lump.
“ Are you kidding?” bragged Furgeson. “Goddam unbelievable! I’ve soloed hundreds, and you’re the very first one that had enough brains to go around. Most of ‘em just bounced the damn thing down the runway. I had one guy that hit the ground in a panic. He instinctively hit the right rudder like the brake pedal on his car and ended up out in a bean field.” Furgeson grinned and threw the straw on the ground. He picked up his old Polaroid camera and snapped a shot.
“ Well, thanks, I guess.” Christina was so relieved. “Damn glad it’s over, that’s for sure. I’ve got a lot more confidence now.”
“ I have to tell you, girl, that full-stall
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