Page 188 - Never Fly Solo

RELEASE BRAKES! | 161
had just flown the worst takeoffs and landings of my life, and
now I was expected to go solo? What if I crashed?
I couldn’t taxi back and shut down—Captain Massarella
would have my head. I couldn’t let him down. Besides, my
fellow cadets would really think I was pathetic. If I quit today,
I wouldn’t be able to face them. I had to dig deep, right now,
and find the courage to press on with the mission.
I taxied the T-41 to the runway and ran through my pre-
departure checklists: flaps, radios, altimeter . . . set. I checked
and rechecked everything. I could not believe I was going
solo.
I called to the tower on the radio: “Cessna fifteen, ready
for takeoff.”
“Cessna fifteen, altimeter setting is 29.92. Cleared for
takeoff, runway one six right.”
I added 80 percent power to the throttle and hammered
down on the brake pedals while checking the engine instru-
ments. My hands and legs were still shaking. It was time to
take off. I wanted to close my eyes.
Those five seconds before takeoff seemed an eternity; then
I finally released the brake pedals and accelerated down the
runway, and within seconds I lifted off. Confirm good climb-
ing indications, gear handle up, flaps up.
I was flying!
My fear and panic suddenly disappeared as I became
totally engrossed in the moment. I was never so completely
focused in my life. I scanned every instrument, cross-checked
my altitude and airspeed, and monitored my displacement
from the runway like a seasoned instructor with two thou-
sand hours of flight time. No deviations. My final turn and
approach were nearly flawless as I corrected my glide path
and made sure my aim point was set in the first two hundred