Grounded

For the past ten years I was custodian of an amazing airplane, my 1981 Mitsubishi Mu-2, which I affectionately named the Beast shortly after purchase. Now it’s time to reluctantly put the plane on the market. This is another in a series of changes that have come hard and fast since January last year.

Some shook me to my core: a violent assault, the death of my mother after many years as her caretaker, and a painful grappling with the aftereffects of trauma.

Other changes have been decidedly more positive: moving into a new studio/gallery space, finding a new audience for my art, and at last having time to plan extended travel abroad to seek fluency in Spanish.

N2RR, 1981 Mitsubishi Mu-2 Solitaire

I did not want to sell the Mu-2, which was the most demanding and rewarding airplane I have ever flown.

I am grateful for the memories with it. Flights over the Grand Canyon. “Racing” an American Captain friend, in his 737, from San Diego to Dallas. Key West. Toronto. Los Angeles. Portland. Provincetown. Barbecue on St. Simons. St. Louis. Green Bay. Dothan. Catalina Island. Big Bear.

Landing on LBJ’s strip, at the Johnson Ranch, and flying the Hill Country with friends.

Flying over the Grand Canyon, 2017

Circling Mt. Rainier.

Coast to coast with one stop, sometimes two heading to LA in winter winds.

Thunderstorms over the Gulf, St. Petersburg to Houston.

Ground speed of 418 knots flying east over Arizona.

Autopilot-induced roll to near inverted, in instrument conditions, on approach to Aiken, South Carolina, just after initial training. Grateful to have survived that one.

National Gay Pilots Association “Queen of the Fleet” at both of their major events, in Provincetown and Palm Springs.

I treasure the friends who shared many of those flights. Pilots, passengers, instructors. It was a pleasure.

I hope to fly again one day, as pilot in command.

Until then I’ll train, keeping up my skills with an instructor in the little AirCam on floats, maybe do training in more complex aircraft. Maybe that jet. Who knows what adventures await.

But the Beast deserves to be flown, now, and not to sit any longer waiting on its owner’s medical review from a Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) bureaucracy that is over a year behind processing medical applications.

My situation is sadly typical. The FAA’s systemic dysfunction affects thousands of pilots and discourages any disclosure of mental health issues. It is a broken system, understaffed and poorly managed, failing pilots and failing safety. I plan to put some energy into bringing these broader policy and management issues before Members of Congress in coming weeks, as it appears only Congressional direction will force needed changes. Perhaps if enough people speak, over enough time, change will come.

As for my beautiful Beast, I hope whoever buys this incredibly capable machine has as much fun with it as I did. It’s a great ride for a competent pilot, who trains regularly and understands the concept of risk management.

Flying, like life, requires managing risk. As I approach the threshold to “old”, whatever that may be and however it may look, I don’t intend to quit living. Or flying, so long as I am healthy and competent.

I did not celebrate the 50th anniversary of my first flight as a student pilot, which passed earlier this year. Perhaps I’ll be able to celebrate my 52nd, year after next. By then I will be 70, the age when many aircraft insurers drop coverage of pilots no matter their proficiency or health. Time will tell how long I will be insurable, or what I might do if not.

I feel for younger, professional pilots who have had their careers postponed and livelihood lost in the FAA bureaucracy. Flying is a hugely important part of my life and identity. But it has never been my profession.

I still have my art, and music, and writing, and I will continue to create in all these media. And I will continue to learn as much as I can, to get better technically and artistically, to explore artistic and geographic horizons as long and as far as I can.

And to that end I have again thrown myself into Spanish, taking multiple classes online every week. At the end of September I will travel for the first time to Buenos Aires, for two weeks of classes in person. I aspire to be as fluent in Spanish as I am in German, as comfortable in Madrid or Bogota as in Berlin.

This past month I created one large piece, Leaving Harbor. Although I didn’t plan it that way, when I finished I realized it depicts a continued journey from known spaces to the unknown. Stay tuned for more exploration, and more art, in the months ahead.