Wrong oh, bobo,
is the reality I soon experienced. The
instructors took advantage of the first familiarization flight to do a little
dog fighting with other instructors in the T-34.
We newbies would be just sitting passively in the front seat taking the
g’s and this newbie was getting dog sick. That feeling of being on the edge of barfdom
was and is the worst feeling known to man or woman.
The feeling
reminded me of our childhood cross country trips to see relatives in California. The family Buick was the pastor’s Cadillac
and my father and mother put a lot of miles on a succession of Buicks. We kids were contained in the back seat but
after a succession of accidents, Mom went to the back seat and I got to think
about something other than being sick from the front seat. It seemed to work
for the most part.
Back to the
T-34, everything was in my throat. In
desperation at the last split second, without thinking and with sweat running
down my forehead, I unzipped my flight jacket and relieved myself, immediately zipping
the zipper back up. My instructor must
have smelled the situation, expecting a mess in his plane. He could then have fun at the expense of this
newbie by ordering a cleanup. I am sure
that was the plan but I fooled him, we shook hands and I thanked him for the
flight, admitting nothing.
I look back
on this experience with almost a sense of pride but now have accepted the fact that
most of my decisions in my youth were sadly deficient. I seemed to be floating through life letting
others be in control of my future without a passionate goal to which I could
order and give myself too.
Would that
someone, at a critical moment, had sat me down and tried at least to wake me
up. No telling if I would have listened
but my life would have been more pleasant, had I.
G.Goslaw
Landers, CA
