Day 57 - "Me And The Good Lord Are Hand-Flyin' This One."

"Me and the Good Lord are hand-flyin' this one." Quote of the day. Ryan and I decided today that we really like these words. We heard them on the ATC tape of a man who successfully landed a twin-turboprop King Air after the pilot, unfortunately, died in flight. As we listened, we heard the controller ask if the man himself was flying the aircraft ("hand-flying") or if the autopilot was engaged. Taken in the context in which the man (apparently a good ol' boy) said it, and mixing in a little gallows humor, it's actually rather funny. We laughed when we heard him say it, sorry.

So I've been thinking. Reminiscing, really. Some of my earliest memories of aviation, and also some of my deepest, most magical infatuation with it, involve the many flights I took to visit my late grandmother in the great state of Alabama. Back then, Nashville still had an American Airlines/American Eagle hub, Tuscaloosa still had airline service, and I flew unaccompanied between the two. So many times, in fact, that the gate agents actually got to know me by name. Despite being a whopping seven years of age at the time that I began the trips, I remember them vividly. Especially the first one.
I remember riding a small bus out to the ramp of Nashville International Airport, zig zagging through what seemed like an endless stream of tugs and baggage cars, anxiously taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the airport. Nashville is not much in the grander scheme of commercial aviation, certainly no Hartsfield or O'Hare. But to my little eyes, it might as well have been New York's JFK, and I was the new reigning king of the field. The ride couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet, though it seemed like I spent miles with my face stuck to the bus window. I studied the different airplanes, wondering which one I would ride. One by one they passed by the window, until finally the bus ground to a halt in front of the most majestic machine upon which a seven-year-old pair of eyes were laid - a white BAe Jetstream 31, with red, white, and blue stripes, and an eagle on the tail.
Ron White would have described the Jetstream as "a pack of gum with eight people in it." It was a tiny airplane, so small that it didn't even carry a flight attendant. Just a cockpit and 21 passenger seats, that's all ya got. The flights were very short in duration, and almost never full. But I didn't care. In fact I liked it; it was almost like I believed there to be a ration of pleasure on board, and the more passengers there were, the more I had to share. At any rate, the thing flew, what more could I ask for? This was also before the cockpit door days, leaving only a curtain (which was almost never closed) separating me from the cockpit. This allowed me to crane my neck out in to the aisle, thereby equally dividing my attention between the flight deck and the exterior window. And best of all, on my very first flight, the first officer offered me a headset. I had the full effect! Sights of pilots in action, and now the sounds as well.
For those few years, the microscopic aircraft served as my own personal magic carpet. My enchantment was at its zenith, and even to this day, I would give anything to relive that. The few times that I've flown to Tuscaloosa recently, though now as a pilot myself, have driven me close to that point. I see the familiar sights on approach, the terminal that I've walked through so many times, and the ramp that my little legs traveled as I entered and exited my prop-powered chariot, and it all comes rushing back to me. Every detail is perfect in my mind, right down to the way the airplanes smelled. Above all I remember that pilot, and how his simple gesture of plugging in a headset was eternally forged into my memory. That memory, 15 years after the fact, serves as a reminder of the constant mercies and graciousness that I have experienced in aviation. More than that, it has inspired my resolve to "pay it forward."

So what's with the trip down memory lane? I dunno. I've not experienced too many blogworthy events the last few days, so I decided this would be an introspective post. The closer I get to my end goal, the more I remember the things that initially put me on this path. I'm constantly reminded how kind people in this field have been, and continue to be. Ya never know just what an impact you'll have on someone, and how long it will last. It's inspirational really, and I really hope I get to where I'm going so that I can share that same magic with others, as so many have done with me. I don't know how I'm going to get there. I have no idea at all. But like the guy said...


"Me and the good Lord are hand-flyin' this one."

Joey