Last weekend, I fulfilled the role of an “antique squared.” This is when an antique is found to be flying an antique. Slipping the surlies of my home airport, I ventured out with my 1946 Cessna 140 to a local EAA meeting in another town. A lot was going on there, including Young Eagle flights, charcoal-grilled processed meat eating, and builders/pilots pondering the latest group aircraft project.
Having fulfilled my Young Eagle ride provider duty, I settled into my lawn chair in the shade under the fabric wing of my 140. I viewed an unusual sight nowadays—a large group of people at an airport having fun while learning things.
On most ramps and airports on most days, you can hear an eerie silence while perhaps seeing a metaphorical tumbleweed or two traverse what used to be a vibrant area. The day of having random groups of ramp tramps loitering for hours and days at the local airport has passed with the coming of barbed-wire fencing, unfriendly FBOs, and snooty airplane owners.
Just as I was about to close my eyes to rest a while, a middle-aged guy wearing a hat with his airplane’s “N” number on it sidled up and said, “Wow, nothing like the good old days of flying, huh?”
He continued: “Yep, old airplanes like this flown in the old way are the best. I have only been flying a few years and wish I had flown during the good old days of aviation like you have.”
I found his comment funny. How did he know I did not start flying recently? Was it my bald spot, skin cancer surgery scars or prescription bifocal sunglasses?
Had he investigated the cockpit of my ride, he might have noticed ADS-B capability, two electronic multifunction displays, panel-mounted GPS backed up with an iPad using ForeFlight driven by a Sentinel, and rescue handheld GPS in the glovebox. If you discount that it is missing a flight director, autopilot and autothrottles, my airplane is better equipped than most airliners I have flown.
I pulled out my backup lawn chair and asked him to sit with me in the shade for a while.
He was right in assuming that I had been around flying for a while but was surprised to hear me say that I wasn’t missing the good old days all that much.
Sure,” back in the day young pilots like me operated under very little supervision. “I began working at the airport as a lineboy right when I turned sixteen and was given an Avgas truck,” Jet-A truck,” “and motor-driven tugs.”
“I soloed during my sixteenth year with about seven hours of flight time.” “I was trained but did not have to take a written quiz,” talk on radio,” “know what transponder was or deal with aircraft systems knowledge.”
“There seemed to be less traffic back then.” “Of course we lacked ADS-B and TCAS,” so there might have been quite a few aircraft near us that we never saw.”
“People used to smoke in airplanes.” “Imagine sitting in Cessna 150 with instructor who chain-smoked.”
“We navigated using pilotage and occasionally VOR.” Having DME was distant dream; RNAV out question.”
“Until halfway through airline career,” list AM radio station frequencies from towns used ADF cross-check position trying find football scores pass along passengers.”
“Weather especially dangerous weather unseen surprising before access watch screen humble general aviation spam cans.” “Flew twins IFR night without radar; only clue thunderstorm sometimes came ran into it.”
“My newfound chair-bound friend looked uncomfortable.” “I stood giving him tacit permission stand before ambled off find less verbose acquaintance finished one last comment unvarnished truth matter.”
“What miss about good old days being young full hormones energy stupidity getting morning nothing hurting.” Flying through sweet air low-time ignorance happy air didn’t know care dumb.”
To Young Eagles flew today beginning their good old days. Their future might include fly-ins Mars but bet look back this time quaint safe happy place where flying fun best adventures lay future.
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