by Kate St. Vincent Vogl (New York City)
Flying by the seat of your pants is more than making things up as you go along. It’s trusting your instincts. I learned how in a Piper Cherokee. Not the first small plane I’d ever been in, but the first time for me in the left seat.
My flight instructor had a comb-over and shoulders hunched from years of folding into impossibly small cockpits. I was so sure I’d earn quicker than most. For years my family had planes—Beechcraft, Cessena, Mitsubishi. I already knew about the walk around, the preflight checklist. I knew to yell “Clear!” before starting the propeller. But, I didn’t know I couldn’t count on the instruments, white numbers dialed in black upon a dusty instrument panel. Read more