“Teaching is different,” he lifted a shoulder. “I’ll be in the back seat feeling every bump, but I’m in control of what we’re doing. I know exactly what maneuvers we’ll practice, when we’ll turn, when we’ll climb or descend. It’s the unexpected movements that get to me most.”
“And you’re medically cleared to fly? After the accident?”
“My certificate lapsed after the discharge. Officially, I can’t provide flight instruction until I get recertified, which...” Finn’s eyes slid to the side before returning to my face. “...may not happen with my disability rating. But this is an informal lesson in a simple aircraft. And I know this plane better than I know myself.”
I studied him, looking for any hesitation or uncertainty after that confession. His eyes were hopeful, and I knew how much this meant to him. I also knew I trusted him.
“The weather today?”
“Ideal flying conditions. Light winds, clear skies, unlimited visibility,” Finn glanced toward the hangar opening where I could see blue sky beyond. “Couldn’t ask for better.”
“All right,” I said, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Let’s do it.”
Finn’s face broke into a grin. “Really?”
“Really. But you’re going to have to walk me through everything, so I know exactly what we’re doing before we leave the ground. I need a fair chance at landing this thing if you stroke out up there.”
“Deal,” he laughed, moving toward the nose of the aircraft with an extra bounce in his step. “We’ll do a complete pre-flight inspection. I want you to know this airplane is safe before we even think about starting the engine.”
I stood up and followed him as he opened the cowling.
“First thing we check is the heart of the operation,” he began. “Oil level, fuel lines, general condition of everything that keeps us in the air.”
“What would we look for that would ground the plane?”
“Low oil, fuel leaks, anything loose or corroded.” He pulled out the oil dipstick and held it against a rag. “See this? Anything below that second line means we’re not flying today.”
“How often does that actually happen?” I asked as he wiped the stick, checked it again, and then secured it back in place.
“With proper maintenance? Rarely. But you never skip the check. Ever. Now we check the control surfaces. Push down here on the aileron. See how it moves freely?”
I pushed on the hinged part of the wing where he pointed. “It’s heavier than I expected.”
“That’s great. Means the cables are tight, everything’s connected properly. Try the other wing.”
He followed me to the other side where I pressed down on the second aileron. “What if it felt loose or stuck?”
“We’d be done for the day. Control surfaces that don’t respond properly can kill you.”
He set up a step ladder before moving a crate over and jumping onto it. “Up here,” he tapped on the ladder. I climbed it until I was at his level, and he pointed to a red cap with what looked like a wire coming out of it.
“Fuel gauge says we’re topped off, but you always verify visually.” He pulled the cap off. “Look here. See the fuel level?”
“Right up to the rim.”
“Exactly. Gauges can lie, especially in older aircraft. Your eyes don’t.”
“How long will that last us?” I asked as he screwed it back on.
“About three hours of flying.” We climbed back down. “We’ll only be up maybe thirty minutes.”
“Tires next,” he continued. “What do you see?”
I crouched down where he pointed. “They look... fine? No obvious damage.”
“Look closer,” he crouched down next to me. “Any cracks in the rubber? Uneven wear patterns?”
“No cracks,” I shook my head. “The wear looks even across the surface.”
