An ordinary bloke who learned to fly

I’ve wanted to fly for as long as I can remember.  Probably since before I could properly walk, and definitely before I could run (although I’ve since discovered I quite like this too).  As a kid I was constantly looking skywards. I watched TV programs about flying, I read books about flying, I built plastic AirFix kits of model aircraft.  I went to airshows, played flight simulators that were running on the expansive computing power of my Sinclair ZX Spectrum, and, when I was old enough I joined the Air Cadets.

I once built a balsa glider directly from a set of free plans I received with a model aircraft magazine (yes I bought those too). I carefully selected the wood from the local model shop and, with a great deal of patience I manufactured and assembled every single part and assembly.  It took a while.

It flew once. This was when I threw it out of my parent’s bedroom window into the garden below to test the flying characteristics. You see I couldn’t afford the expensive radio gear or engine you needed to make it actually fly under its own steam.

Whilst in the Air Cadets (1444 Squadron) I was privileged to have my first flight in an aircraft of any kind (we didn’t do holidays to Benidorm so I’d never been on a jet or anything).  So, on camp, at RAF Hereford I was taken for my first ever trip into the skies in an RAF Puma helicopter! Not only this, but the pilot took us flying round the welsh hills at low level with the doors open.  I’d been waiting for this moment my whole life.  So how did I celebrate?  By throwing up copiously into the conveniently provided sick bags.  I bet the pilot was pissing himself with laughter at me.  I bet he also won that day’s little game of “who can make the most cadets sick on Air Experience Flights?”

Anyway, despite this rather inauspicious start to my flying career I was not put off.  I went flying again later that year with the cadets, getting to take the controls of a Venture powered glider, and also at some point around this time my dad arranged for his mate to take me and my brother up in a Piper Cherokee.  My brother, Matt, graciously allowed me to sit in the front as he knew how much it meant to me.  He would be instrumental in my decision to learn to fly some 25 years later.

After leaving school and being rejected by the RAF on medical grounds, normal life took over and I got a job and the dream of flying faded into the background.  Don’t get me wrong, I was still mad keen on anything with wings, but I didn’t have the money or time to learn to fly.  Well money really, and I’d discovered night clubs, and beer, and girls…

Then in my mid-thirties I joined the local gliding club and started to rekindle my passion for playing in the skies.  I was doing well and had been learning for around 3 months but again real life had other ideas and I had to stop before I even got competent enough to go solo.

Finally as I was approaching 40 and after my brother and his wife had brought me a flight simulator experience I approached the local microlight school about lessons.  I finally had a little disposable income and it really wasn’t as expensive as I’d thought it might be.  Ten months later and I was shaking hands with the CFI who was congratulating me on passing my General Skills Test. I was a pilot at last.

Copyright © 2016 Dan Roach