Angela - Part 5
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~ ANGELA PART FIVE ~




Angela still had that sinking feeling in her stomach. This is so stupid, she thought. She had been given more lessons in flying an airplane than anyone she knew. The only reason her friends had their licenses, and were now studying for their private license was because they were older than Angela, not because they were better than she.

Dressing hurriedly, she threw on a pair of jeans and a white blouse, not really paying much attention to her selection of clothes. Supposedly, she had always thought, this day would be the most important one in her life. So why did she have doubts? Why was she so apprehensive? Was she thinking that maybe she would fail the examination. Boy, would she be the laughing stock of the town. She would never show her face in public again.

Getting on her bike, Angela started peddling the one mile ride to the airport. She was in deep thought, not only about her flight test that she had been waiting for which seemed like an eternity, she was thinking of her birthday. She didn’t know which was more important that she was sixteen years old today, or was this the day, the good Lord permitting, she would be flying an airplane all by herself. All alone in the cockpit of their brand new Cessna from now on.

Her dad and even her mom were waiting for her at the airport. Although her mom was not into flying as the rest of the family, she came to bid her daughter the best of luck, and to see the smile on her face after she completed her test. “Angela,” called her mom, “have we got a birthday surprise when you get home today, I bet you’d never guess what it is.” Angela was not into guessing games at the moment. She had only one thing in mind, and it wasn’t surprises. “No mom, no guesses, but I can’t wait till later.”

“Okay Angie, ready to go?” called her dad. “Sure dad, ready when you are,” came the swift reply. “All right then, let’s go, get in the left seat, and we’ll take a couple of spins around the airport. Starting the engine of the Cessna, Angela was ready to taxi to the runway.

“Lancaster Ground Control, this is Cessna fourteen fifty two, on the ramp ready to taxi.” “Cessna fourteen fifty two, taxi to runway eight, wind zero three zero degrees at ten knots, altimeter three zero one two.” “Roger one four five two.” Taxing to the runway, Angela’s dad said, “honey when you feel that you’re ready for take off, request permission to make two touch and goes in the pattern then a full stop landing.” “Okay dad,” replied Angela.

Lancaster Tower, Cessna fourteen fifty two at runway eight, ready for take-off. Request to remain in the pattern for two touch and go landings, then a full stop.” “Roger fourteen fifty two, that’s approved, cleared for take-off, call on downwind each time.” “Will do” replied Angela.

As Angela taxied onto the runway, checked all her instruments, and started her roll down the runway, she thought, why am I doing this? I’ve done this hundreds of times. I don’t need any more lessons. I want to be by myself. I want to fly this airplane all by myself. What is my dad doing here? I don’t need him anymore. Oh, my God, what am I saying? Stupid, stupid, here I’m saying that I don’t need my dad anymore. What a foolish thing to say, I need him more than anyone in the world. He’s just here to console me, to assure me, to let me know that he has all the confidence in the world in me. He just wants me to take my time, and double check on everything before he releases me on my own.

Attaining proper ground speed for lift off, Angela pulled back ever so gently on the wheel, lifting the aircraft off the ground, and climbed straight ahead, carefully making sure that the aircraft was in line with the runway. Reaching pattern altitude, she turned the aircraft to the left into a cross base leg, making sure that her turn angle was correct. Then when about to turn downwind, she picked up the microphone, “Lancaster Tower, this is Cessna one four five two, turning downwind, runway 8 for a touch and go landing. Roger Cessna 1452, Lancaster Tower, cleared for touch and go. Traffic is a Cessna 150 departing runway 8, making a left turn out, call again when turning downwind.” “Roger, fourteen fifty two.”

Angela smartly turned from downwind leg to base leg, as her dad watched every move she made. He hadn’t said a word since the take-off. Turning from base leg to final, Angela lined the aircraft on the runway, flaring out, cutting the throttle, Angela made a near perfect landing. Then fully increasing the throttle, flaps to normal, the aircraft gained speed, and was in the air again, preparing for another touch and go landing.

“Angie,” said her dad quietly, “tell the tower that this will be a full stop landing. I don’t think that we have to do this again.” A little bewildered, but never the less, Angela never questioned her dad on his method of training or of any advice he gave her. “All right dad. Tower, Cessna 1452, turning downwind, this will be a full stop landing then returning to the ramp.” Cessna 1452, cleared to land runway 8, wind 060 degrees at 15 knots.”

Returning to the barn, and shutting the engine of the aircraft off, she was surprised to see several of her friends there, Dotty, Rosy, Annie, and Tommy, her occasional boy friend. They had come out to wish her happy birthday, and to give support on this momentous occasion. She was elated that her friends would take the time to come to the airport, which they seldom did to wish her the best of luck.

“Honey,” called her dad, ready?” “Yes dad, I’m ready.” “Then go ahead and make it perfect. Remember all I’ve taught you. The years that you’ve waited for this very moment and to be honest , I’ve waited along with you . I have all the faith in the world in you. Do two touch and goes, then come in for the celebration.” Angela saw tears in her fathers eyes, hugging him, she turned, walked to her airplane, and was ready to start her first real adventure in the world of flying.

To be continued







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Original stories written, published and copyrighted by Larry Delmar. (c) 1970-1999. If you would like to use something, please email for permission.