by Lynn Mandaville
Do you remember your first flight in an airplane?
Was it a commercial airliner, or maybe a small aircraft?
Were you a kid or an adult?
Did you share the experience with anyone, like family, or did you go it alone, like going off to college or on a business trip?
My first flight happened with my family. It was in 1962 or ’63, and Pop had scrimped and saved for a grand trip to California to visit one of his few cousins in Santa Barbara, and to visit Ma’s sister and my cousins in Escondido.
We flew out of Newark, NJ, whose airport in those days was not much bigger than Gerald Ford International Airport. It was situated out in the meadowlands near the Port of Newark, where the New York Giants stadium sits today. (Also, where the mob boys who pre-dated Tony Soprano hid the bodies, and where urban legend holds that Jimmy Hoffa’s body is buried.)
Flying then was a major event, accompanied by wearing your Sunday best (with white gloves!) and a stomach full of butterflies.
Flying today, as many of us know all too well, is not the occasion it once was. Many of us travel in sweat suits and slip-on shoes to make security screening easier. Airports are situated inside congested city limits, where once they existed “out in the boonies” away from commercial development.
For young people who would like to get a feel for what flying was like “back in my day,” visiting a small, municipal airport might be just the place to go.
For some people there is a tremendous feeling of exhilaration and romance about flight.
Like so many endeavors, becoming a pilot requires hundreds of hours of training and flight time, and thousands of dollars to cover the cost of flight school, airport fees, and owning or leasing a plane of one’s own.
It’s not a hobby one can just casually jump into, like collecting rocks or seashells or stamps.
As with most hobbies, there are groups of enthusiasts who come together to share their love of flight. And almost two weeks ago I had a brush with one of those groups, when our little family gathered in our little COVID bubble to celebrate grandson Jack’s eighth birthday.
For quite a while now Jack has shown a growing interest in flying. What started out as throwing Nerf airplanes at his brother James, his fascination has grown into actually studying the basics of flight, the most elementary of physics behind getting off the ground and into the wild blue yonder.
So when our son Randy heard about a program called Young Eagles, sponsored and conducted by members of the Experimental Aircraft Association, he arranged for Jack to have a flight in a small plane with its licensed pilot as a birthday gift.
I’m a nosy mom, so I thought nothing of asking Randy how much a person had to fork over for such an extravagant present.
He answered me with a sh*t-eating grin and a circle made by touching thumb to index finger. This flight was free!
Randy got wind of the Young Eagles program through a contact through work.
Pilots of Young Eagles offer young ‘uns aged 8 to 17 a first free ride in an airplane, with “the sole mission to introduce and inspire kids in the world of aviation.”
So Randy arranged for a Young Eagles pilot to meet us all at the Chandler Municipal Airport for Jack’s first flight.
Pilot Randy Richmond flew his shiny, maroon four-seater from Mesa to Chandler bright and early on a typically, gloriously sunny Arizona Friday morning. Richmond is a 40-year pilot for American Airlines, and his love of flying and sharing it with kids was clearly evident that day.
He took Jack through the pre-flight check around the plane and under it’s various hoods and hatches, then, once seated in the plane with their headphones on, went through interior procedures and contact with the flight tower.
I know almost nothing about small planes, but Jack was full of questions from his studies, and Richmond was an avid, enthusiastic teacher.
Prior to take-off, Richmond showed us a smart phone app that would let us track their short flight west of Chandler to Ahwatukee and back around, about a 20-minute flight.
Mom Laura tracked the flight while she fought her momma nervousness, and we all celebrated when Jack and Richmond landed and taxied back to the tiny terminal.
Richmond refused a tip or donation for this incredible gift. It seemed enough that he had introduced another kid to the wonders of flight.
Jack still talks about that day and that amazing flight, and studies what I consider advanced YouTube videos about aeronautics for an 8-year-old. And I wonder what his future holds in store where flight is concerned.
During these times when so much is unsettled, disorienting, and fearsome, it’s a grand diversion to discover a program such as Young Eagles with such an altruistic purpose.
It’s also very difficult to convey the sense of awe and wonder all of us, but especially Jack, felt about Jack’s first flight.
There are chapters of EAA Young Eagles throughout Michigan, the closest to Wayland being Jenison and Kalamazoo. You can find them by googling Young Eagles or the Experimental Aviation Association, or go to www.eaa.org and explore the entire web site.
Maybe you can arrange a COVID-safe first flight for your own child or grandchild for sometime in 2021!
Happy soaring!
Very nice article – hopefully young people will be inspired to take flight!
Surprise! The person you slam at every instance is praising your post.