At the controls
The question was asked the other night if I had ever been at the controls of an airplane. Well, yes. When I was a child, my dad rented planes from his friend Sandy Sanderson to log flying hours in order to get his private pilot’s license. He was already an accomplished pilot, having spent his WWII service as a pilot trainer but rules are rules. The first pic is from inside a Cessna (or whatever) on a flight from Sault Ste. Siberia down to the Straits of Mackinac. The Mackinac bridge was being built at the time. Before it was built, we had to traverse the straits via a ferry. I have vague memories of the ferry and I was not on this particular flight. I think I was too young.
Who was NOT too young to be on this flight was my granddaddy. I’m not sure he ever flew anywhere in any airplane that his son (my dad) was not piloting. He was born before automobiles although he did own automobiles. Of course by the time I was born, I had no idea what life without automobiles could be like. I can’t imagine what my granddaddy thought about the transition to cars and then airplanes. This kind of stuff is mind-boggling to me.
So have I ever flown an airplane? Yes and no. When I was a kid, after my dad achieved his private pilot’s license, we would go for Sunday flights. Sometimes I would get to sit in the passenger seat and dad would instruct me about how to use the controls to make the plane go up and down or turn.
My first flight was to Ann Arbor/Detroit in a passenger plane with my mom, so she could help her brother’s wife after the birth of one of my cousins. My doppelganger cousin, as I figured out as a mature adult. What I remember about those flights were the shapes of the windows. I was two.
The first flight I actually remember was with my dad and granddaddy in a little Cessna. We just did a quick tour around Sault Ste. Siberia.
November 10th, 2025 at 12:04 pm
My dentist grandpa was also a private pilot. He rarely gave me rides though because I would throw up. Little planes make me nauseous.