As fate would have it, I have a son who is an artist; one whose hands are as dexterous as Michelangelo and the listless mind of Leonardo da Vinci and another whose heart belonged to the skies.  Both occupy the extreme of my interests but I never had the chance, much more so, the courage to fulfill it.  I would rather record how they overtook my curiosities and came out on top.  I will tackle first the younger one, the kid who wanted to be a bird.


A few summers from now, my son would become a bona fide pilot already.  I do not know where he got the inclination for flying an aircraft but for me it is still considered a dangerous sport.  There is no room for error in such an endeavor if one is to be successful in that profession.  I do not even call it a profession because it is replete with instant if not fatal exposure.  As soon as he pushes the metal upwards, he is already defying the law of nature.  While he may have physics as company, it is also subject to the higher law on gravity.  Flying an aircraft is different from driving a car or rowing a boat.  But there is my son, all revved up to conquer the skies!


In retrospect, my first plane ride was a simple 45-minute exercise—an interprovincial hop.  Then it was followed by a little more than one hour.  There after, three hours and then my longest were 10 hours, when I was required to attend a seminar in Australia.  I could not just imagine myself staying that long period while suspended in mid air.  I must have grown old and cold during that length of time.  From the time I got my first plane ride up until three decades later, I must have accumulated so much flying time that it would even add up if I used it flying to another planet!  I would have gone to the moon and back several times over.


But for my son, flying is a different ballgame all throughout.  Unlike in my case where I board a plane and pray until it reaches the destination, my son would be right there at the cockpit driving the plane from take off to landing.  While I have accumulated hundreds of hours in the air during my official trips, my son has as yet to earn so much for the much desired “wing” medallion.


Once my son completes his aircraft flying exposure he initially becomes a qualified commercial pilot.  But it would not be his calling eventually.  He must have to take an advanced course in flying small aircraft for aerial agro farm spraying.  The difference here lies on the procedures.  If he flies a commercial airline, once it takes off, there is autopilot to rely on.  The plane can even fly and land on its own.  That is picnic.  But if one is to fly a small, single engine aircraft, the pilot himself, from take off, to maneuvers, to wing movements, everything until the plane is landed, performs everything manually.  The small aircraft is conducted without any air tower assistance.  Every minute in mid air is calculated.  At most, the small plane flies on a very low altitude, not enough room to flex changes in movement.  Decision must be done in a fraction of a second.  That is what makes piloting a small aircraft a demanding and a precision filled profession.


I could not tutor my kid on this aspect anymore.  He must be his own man once he takes the steel up and glides it into the air.



About vjtesoro

A perpetual student of Corrections

Posted on May 9, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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