EAA Sport Aviation - September 2011

held out. We were cleared to land a good distance from the airport and, 20 minutes later, touched down safely in my smoothest landing of the trip. Go figure.

The good news was, the problem was only a broken wire, and three hours later, we were taxiing out for takeoff again. But our early start and the stress of the day was beginning to take its toll. I’d done my previous takeoff and landings on Runway 31, which meets at a “V” with Runway 35. So although I confirmed the tower’s takeoff clearance for 35, I automatically kept rolling toward 31.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Three-five, not three-one!” Connor exclaimed.

I snapped back to attention and did an elaborate S-turn back to 31. “Wow, Connor, thank you,” I said.

Twice in one afternoon, Connor’s cool head, sharp eyes, and quick mind had given me invaluable backup. This from a 17-year-old who wasn’t even a pilot yet, but was proving to be the best copilot I’d ever had. Who would have guessed?

It’s easy to bemoan the state of youth today. Adults have been doing it for centuries. But like so many other generalizations, lumping them all together does a disservice to the real live individuals who make up that group. I’m not silly enough to pretend I understand teenagers today, just because I was one, once. But somewhere in the skies over America, I was beginning to understand a little more about this particular one. Just a little. But enough to realize there was a lot of smart, intriguing, and impressive stuff in the midst of all that search for identity, independence, and video game mastery.

I didn’t say all that to Connor, of course.
I’m not fluent in male-speak, but I know
enough to know that simple, symbolic
phrases are often not only sufficient, but
preferred. So as we headed east to Peoria,
Illinois, I just looked at him and said, “You
know, Connor…I’ll fly with you anytime.”
He gave me a brief, knowing smile.
After all, in the land of adventure, there is
no higher praise.