62 | AUGUST 2019 FLYINGMAG.COMGEAR UP New Carpet
than a bill of sale, a handshake and
a first f light. Equipped with just a
private license and an instrument
ticket, I’d hop in and fire up—it
was like that back then.
The P210 was a whole new
ballgame. Pressurization and tur-
bocharging meant f lying in the
f light levels—albeit, the lowest, most
juniorlike f light levels. The binder is
titled “Cessna Flight Crew Manual.”
I got this official-sounding tome
during a course in Wichita, Kansas. I
was learning how to manage that big
Continental, especially in descent,
and what a turbine inlet tempera-
ture gauge was all about. Outf low
valves and upper-deck pressure were
discussed at length to my constant
delight and intermittent consterna-
tion. This was the first time I had sat
with other aviators while learning a
new airplane. Since then, I’ve always
loved school. Before that, I had always
hated school of any type.
After 13 years, the P210 gave way to
a Cessna 340. The pressurized twin
made me feel like an airline pilot.
According to the Simcom binder, the
maximum takeoff weight was about
2,000 pounds more than the P210. The
340 was a majestic animal equipped
with air conditioning and stairs. You
could be mistaken for a movie star
when disembarking. You could also
experience some shock when paying
for gas. It held almost twice as much
fuel as the pressurized single.
By 2000, I had managed to
persuade my wife, Cathy, that burning
jet-A was a really sound idea. I set my
sights on the poor man’s King Air: the
Piper Cheyenne. Cathy saw no differ-
ence between the Cheyenne and the- Both had club seating, and both
were luxurious. Though the Cheyenne
was faster, it was only 30 to 40 knots
faster—hardly appreciated on most
trips. Where she saw a need for new
carpet in the house, I saw a need for
turbine reliability.
To me, of course, these PT6
engines meant a huge difference.
Never again would I see the f licker
of an oil-pressure gauge or hear the
sudden warble produced when the
props slipped out of sync. This baby
could get you somewhere. No longer
confined to Flight Level 190 to 210,
the Cheyenne could easily get to 250
and forge forward at 230 knots.
And so began 17 years of yearly
recurrent training, first at FlightSafety
Learning Center in Lakeland, Florida,
and then at Simcom in Orlando. These
courses featured simulators, concepts
such as bleed air and, most important, a
group of more experienced classmates.
I sometimes think I learned as much
from these folks as I did from the formal
course work. On one occasion, a guy
in class had suffered an actual cockpit
fire; another knew a guy who once had
a catastrophic decompression. Thatwill catch your attention. I came to look
forward to the yearly ritual, especially
when friend and fellow Cheyenne
owner Bill Wyman would come down
from New England and stay at our
house in Tampa. We’d drive back and
forth to Lakeland and talk about life.
Having been entranced by learning
about airplanes in a classroom, I
sought a type rating in the early
Cessna jet, the Cessna 501SP. There
was very little hope that I could ever
afford a jet, but the fantasy propelled
me to FlightSafety in Atlanta.
OMG, as the kids say, was that fun.
Now I was learning about and practic-
ing V1 engine failures, precautionary
engine shutdowns, dual generator
failures and “emergency restart—two
engines.” Two happy weeks later, I
walked out with my first type rating.
Another lark presented itself inthe form of a Boeing 737 type rating
at Higher Power Aviation in Dallas.
Clearly, I would never f ly such a
grandiose beast, but I took a two-week
vacation and joined a group of fabu-
lous aviators who were gunning for
jobs at Southwest Airlines. This expe-
rience can be reasonably compared to
a fantasy baseball camp where you get
to suit up with Derek Jeter and face
Nolan Ryan for a few swings.
The three big binders remind me of
the fire hose of information that came
at you with such velocity that you
sometimes couldn’t remember if
we were talking about hydraulics or
electrical. Interestingly, a type rating
in the 737 was available if you already
had another type rating. My Cessna
501 rating qualified.
In late middle age, I took on the
notion of f lying a jet for hire as a con-
tract pilot. A type rating in the Learjet
meant I could f ly occasionally as a
backup first officer for a Part 135
company on weekends and holidays.
Was that ever fun. I will not forget—
ever—the first time I flew left seat on
an empty leg or the first time we f lew
over a line of thunderstorms.
At age 68, I quit being a surgeon to
f ly jets full time. I happily landed at
JetSuite, a Part 135 company with a
welcoming, professional vibe. Paired
with Phil Smith, the Air Force’s F-15
demonstration pilot, I began train-
ing for the Cessna Citation CJ3 at CAE
in New Jersey. This was an entirely
different experience. No longer was
I a private client with a Cheyenne,
I was an employee for a company.
Furthermore, my employment was
based on successfully passing the
oral and simulator exams necessary
for the Cessna 525(S) type rating—S
for “ single pilot.” This lent a certain
seriousness to the proceedings and
sharpened my resolve. The biggest
binder on the shelf is the CJ3 manual.
A thousand hours of f lying for
JetSuite made the thought of own-
ing a jet possible. Like new carpet,
I thought this was a terrific idea. It
turns out that the lineup of manuals
has brought me to owning a Cessna
Citation CJ1. We put new carpet in the
CJ too. It looks good.THIS EXPERIENCE
CAN BE REASONABLY
COMPARED TO A
FANTASY BASEBALL
CAMP WHERE YOU
GET TO SUIT UP WITH
DEREK JETER AND
FACE NOLAN RYAN
FOR A FEW SWINGS.