Flight Test

7:00 am:

First check of the day's forecast. Hmm, doesn't look promising. The weather wizards are predicting a cold front passing through at the exact hour of my flight test. Maybe it won't materialize, or will swing through earlier. Flight tests and thunderstoms aren't exactly the best of friends. I'll have to check the updated weather in a couple of hours. Until then, it's 'what-haven't-i-learned-yet' study time!

12:15 pm:

I pull into the airport exactly forty-five minutes before the ground portion of the flight test is scheduled to begin. The cold front is closer now, but still, the sky doesn't look too angry. Maybe there's hope yet. I have the aircraft scheduled for 3:00 pm, so that leaves Mother Nature plenty of time to decide what kind of a mood she's in. I step out of the car, grab my overstuffed flight bag, and walk towards the main terminal building. Sweaty palms already? Oh c'mon! 

Inside, I claim one of the briefing rooms, where I'll present a ground lesson to the examiner. A few of the flight instructors I pass in the hall smile and nod knowingly at me as I scramble around, making last minute preparations. Ah yes, he's here for his flight test. Muahahahahahahaha.

1:01 pm:

I'm ready. The room is set up to provide a brilliantly planned lesson to my new 'student'. I'm feeling energetic, excited, and not the least bit nervous. Wait, why is my current instructor walking into the room? What? The examiner is going to be how late?

Drat.

The next forty-five minutes are spent having a mild panic attack, imagining far-fetched scenarios that ranged from the development of spontaneous lockjaw to a complete mental blockage of everything I know. When the examiner finally walks in, I discover that my brain is still functioning at its normal level and that the test can proceed as planned. He turns out to be a wonderful pilot and a fair examiner. The ground portion of the exam  goes quite well, and before long we're packing up our stuff in anticipation of heading out to the airplane.

3:30 pm:

Uh-oh. A quick look outside to the north reveals two important pieces of information. First, the cold front has passed through. And secondly, it's no longer necessary to use the computer to check the forecast; you can now hear the weather. It's raining.

Radar imagery shows that a couple of air mass thunderstorms have popped up all around the airport. The examiner and I decide to try and wait it out for a bit. He's a busy man, and the next available booking would not be for two more weeks. I don't relish the thought of having this monkey on my back any longer than necessary. Let's hope the aviation gods are feeling merciful this day.

5:05 pm:

Brakes are set. Power is full and steady. Gauges are green. Release the brakes, slight back pressure on the yoke and watch the airspeed rise towards 55 knots. Twenty-five seconds later the nose wheels lifts off the ground and we are climbing away from the rain-soaked runway. 

Waiting out the storm was a good decision. While I'm thankful that it's now driving away to the south-east, there's another one forming about 25 miles to the northwest. My best guess is that we have a 45 minute window of clear skies to get this test done. 

I start the instructing as soon as we're clear of the control zone. The first part goes smoothly and, in the interest of time, the examiner asks me to move onto the next portion of the test. He demonstrates a steep turn, throwing in a few mistakes, which I'll correct him on once we're back on the ground. 

The storm to the north is approaching quicker than we had anticipated. Skies to the east, however, look friendlier, so we head over in that direction. Cloud dodging becomes the norm for the rest of the flight. I demonstrate a Forced Approach and, while overshooting, am told that it's time to head back. So far, so good. I tell myself that, barring a disastrous landing, I've passed. Soft-field landing? You got it!

The runway is lined up. Height and airspeed are good. Flaps to 20 degrees. Approach profile looks good. Full flaps. Over the threshold and into the flare. Add some power and back pressure on the yoke. Hold it.....

6:10 pm:

It's raining again.

I don't care.

I'm back inside the briefing room, listening to the examiner as he goes over the flight test. I try to take notes on what he is saying, and occasionally nod in agreement. My instructor comes into the room and joins us. Words and gestures are flowing through the air faster than my tired brain can keep up. If I'm interpreting it all correctly, then it appears that I've passed. The examiner reaches over and signs a page in my licence. He shakes my hand, packs up his bags, wishes me well and leaves the room.

My instructor congratulates me, but his words barely register, as I'm too busy doing cartwheels in my head. My five-year old self has taken over and refuses to listen to anyone or anything. After seven months of hard study, practice and dedication, this journey has come to a successful conclusion. "What did the examiner say as he was walking out?" I asked my instructor.

"Good luck with your job search."

Ohhh. Right......

Back to reality.