One More Step

I've got a large binder in front of me that contains every known piece of information related to the aircraft I've been flying since late January, a cessna Skyhawk circa 1964. In it, all the modifications that are known are logged,annotated, reviewed, certified, checked, rechecked, checked again, sent off for DNA analysis, double checked, updated and reviewed by the FAA, A&P Certified Mechanic, Certified Public Accountant, Certified Midget, CIA, FBI, your grandmothers book club, officially licensed spider monkey, reprocessed, rejected, lost, found, relocated and finally signed off by several high ranking, high salary individuals who glanced at the binder for about five seconds to cover their asses and then delivered back to the owner of the aircraft...who still is missing the current weight and balance sheet, the one in it now is off by three pounds...stupid alternators.

What does this all mean, why am I concerning myself with a mountain of paperwork (of which I only need about three or four important sources) ? Why am I going to be up all night tonight and tomorrow reviewing everything I've ever learned about flying since first looking at an aircraft? Why am I dragging this post out to ridiculous proportions? Why am I obsessed lately about orals and their subsequent consequences should I fail to preform (or worse contract something horrible) ? Two Words!

CHECK RIDE

The time has come that I shed the proverbial training wheels and get into the cockpit of an airplane with a total stranger who's not only entrusting his life to my hands he will ultimately decided whether or not I've got what it takes to be a pilot... a private pilot...right after a generous donation of $350 dollars to his bank account...

Moving on. Thursday (April 5th) at 11am I begin the two part FAA check ride that starts with an oral aeronautical exam followed by a practical demonstration of lessons learned and aeronautical knowledge gained during training. This is the big one, this is the license I've been working my ass off for, slaving tables and putting up with the retirement community, gearing my entire life there after, all for the privilege to take to the air in a most unusual fashion, one of which that man was not originally designed for yet over came the bounds of gravity simply because he could. My chance to fly (and legally for a change)

Fortune Favors The Bold.
Wish me luck

KW