The Drive to the Airport
Excerpt from Winging It! With Dr. Paul: Forty Tales Your Flight Instructor Never Told You (copyright © 1989 by H. Paul Shuch)
They say that's the most hazardous aspect of flight. The prudent pilot, in selecting a car, would thus do well to consider its crashworthiness. Which is why I bought a Volvo.
Well, not really. The truth is, the Volvo was an act of appeasement, necessitated by the purchase of my first and only airplane. My wife, though not by nature a jealous person, nonetheless expressed considerable concern over my squandering our life savings so indiscriminately.
"It will make me a safer pilot," I rationalized. She was not impressed. "This will save me time and money on business trips," I suggested. She remained unmoved. "You'll love the weekend jaunts to Canada and Mexico," I insisted. She was not convinced.
"I'll buy you a new Volvo," I ventured in desperation. She was appeased. A yuppiemobile will do it every time. (We were much younger then, and could qualify.)
That was about eight years ago. The Beech is now pushing TBO. The Volvo, at 150,000 miles, is midtime and going strong. The Beech sports a few signs of hangar rash, but only upon close examination of its wingtips. The Volvo's been rear-ended (enroute to the airport, of course), but bears its burden well.
I hear that Bob Hoover, airman extraordinaire, had an auto accident enroute to the airport not long ago. Cracked several ribs, and had to cancel half a season's airshow performances. Hoover wasn't driving a Volvo.
My wife got her Private ticket a few years back, joined the 99s, and now flies the Beech more than I do. Which is as things should be.
But do you think she ever lets me drive her Volvo?
If you can drive, you can fly!
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This page last updated 1 June 2010
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