Flying Solo

I have been thinking of some time of an impression I remember of Dad.  There are many remembrances of Dad in the inner circles of my mind.  The outstanding thing about Dad is that he was a great man.  I have missed him a lot these past years.  After much thought, I have recalled an experience that has been on the edge of my memory for about 40 years.  This remembrance has always been special to me.

In 1948, I took flying lessons from a couple of flight instructors that would fly up to Duncan from Safford each week.



There was quite a number of people from the Duncan area flying at that time.  Several of them were veterans of WWII, learning to fly on the GI Bill.  Others of us were paying $8 an hour for instructions and $6 for solo flight.

I worked for Dad at the Standard Oil plant, driving truck and helping around the bulk plant.  He was paying me some for my work.  Most of what I earned was spent on flying lessons.  This went on for several weeks. As I recall, my lessons were on Saturday mornings.

I want to insert at this point that at that time, my whole world revolved around flying.  I enjoyed it very much.  Flying and airplanes have always intrigued me.  There is still no more exciting sound to me than an old propeller type engine as it winds up for the take off!!



To digress from my story a little more, during the war years of 1942-3, many military planes filled the air around the country.  Some bombers made low level flights over Duncan.  This was exciting!  Also, Charles Arnett, a family friend from Franklin, piloted a B-24 bomber and flew over the Duncan area on occasion.

Anyway, back to the story.  One Saturday morning, I had been flying in an Aeronca Champion with my instructor, Chet Huntington.  We had flown out over the Lazy B ranch back over Virden to the Duncan airport.  I made a pretty good landing and taxied up to the little 8x10 shack that served as the "terminal and control tower" at the Duncan Municipal Airport.  As I braked to a stop, Chet leaned up from the back seat and asked, "Do you want to take it around alone?"

"You mean solo?" I asked.



"Yes," he replied. "You are ready."

Now my folks had known I had been taking flying lessons but had not exhibited much enthusiasm about it.  So I made a mistake in assuming I knew what my parents were thinking.  I did not take 15 minutes and call my folks to drive over to the airport and let them enjoy my achievement.  (I had not had too many of them since I had not been involved much in sports)  Instead, I waited for the instructor to climb out and then I gunned the engine and taxied to the end of the runway.  After going through the "pre-flight" procedures, I advanced the throttle, and soon saw the runway and foothills dropping below me.  It was a thrill I shall never forget.  After about a 15 minute solo flight, I returned and made a perfect landing.

Upon returning to the Standard Oil plant, Dad asked me how my lesson had gone.  I replied, "Great!  I soloed this morning!"  A disappointed look came over Dad's face immediately.  I didn't understand why.



He then said, "Raymond, why didn't you call so Mom and I could have been there to watch you?  Always try to include us in your achievements."

I have regretted to this day not asking Mom and Dad to participate in that particular accomplishment.  I learned that Dad really did care about me and my interests.

Taken from, "Memories of James Vernon McGrath."

Pic: Interstate Cadet