Around the patch

But then 2020 and COVID-19 happened.

I had last flown 799BS, the Cessna 182, in December 2019 when I’d repositioned the airplane for its annual. I figured I’d be flying again sometime in January—no big deal. Then the annual dragged on a bit, as annuals sometimes do. In this case 799BS had a leaking fuel tank that needed draining and sealing. The airplane came back to Frederick Municipal Airport in January 2020.

January and February aren’t my favorite times to fly. The weather can change on a dime; it’s cold; and there are many other reasons to keep me out of the cockpit and at home, warm and snug. Having six partners means somebody is usually flying 799BS, so I don’t have to worry about the problems that can creep in when you let an airplane sit idle.

And then the coronavirus came to town in March and decided to stay.

At the start, nobody was doing much of anything, much less flying. AOPA staff were working from home. The local flight schools shut down. AOPA was allowing solo flights in its aircraft but not dual flights, because you really can’t socially distance in a cockpit. I couldn’t lay my hands on disinfectant wipes to put in 799BS, and so I didn’t fly it—not even solo. Four months went by, and then five. For the first time in 19 years of flying I wasn’t passenger current.

By now I realized I couldn’t fly 799BS solo if I wanted to. When I had a 160-horsepower Piper Cherokee 140, I flew that airplane every week to two weeks. There was no way I was going to climb into the left seat of a 230-horsepower airplane after such a long hiatus.

In May businesses started opening back up, and I started trying to get onto someone’s flight instruction schedule. It was almost mid-June by the time I was able to make that happen.

I expected to be rusty. What I did not expect was the volume of rustiness at almost every stage of the flight. It was sobering.

During preflight, I somehow locked the laminated checklist into the baggage compartment and then spent 5 minutes searching the hangar for it.

My radio calls were bad. Like, really bad—so bad that I almost keyed the mic and told the controller, “I hope you’re getting some entertainment today.”

I put in what I thought was 20 degrees of flaps yet neglected to check the indicator to see whether the electric flaps had actually settled at 20 degrees—they had not.

Then there were countless little things that can be remedied with better use of a checklist, such as forgetting to reset the trim before takeoff during a series of takeoffs and landings.

My right-seater, CFI Brenda Tibbs, knew I wanted to get passenger current. When I said we could just stay in the pattern, she suggested we fly to the practice area and back to get the feel of the airplane before starting in on takeoffs and landings. What a great idea that was—the high-workload environment of the pattern is no place to get reacquainted with power, carburetor heat, and flap settings. Sure enough, that brief flight out and back gave me time to relax, breathe, and focus on the tasks ahead.

By the fourth takeoff I felt as though I were flying the airplane instead of the other way around. My landings were acceptable: I pulled off one squeaker and subjected Brenda to one banger. The pattern got very busy and at one point we held short of Runway 23 for what seemed like eons in 90-degree heat. Brenda said that I was very proficient at holding short, which is why I love flying with her. During our debrief, Brenda recommended I go up solo once or twice before taking passengers. Another excellent suggestion.

Here at AOPA we always recommend flying with a CFI if your skills need polishing, and we’re not too proud to take our own advice. Get out there and fly!