I love the Gallic disdain which pervades Saint-Exupéry's famous quote. I always imagine he uttered it though a cloud of smoke from a Gauloises pinched precariously in the corner of his mouth and accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand. I have no idea what Saint-Exupéry considered insignificant or petty but I'm fairly sure it was a long list — most everything outside of flying, writing and perhaps a decent meal.

Of course, I never met Saint-Exupéry. I have, however, met and spent time with characters like him, at least in terms of what they thought was important. Except the ones I knew weren't much into writing other than filling out a flight plan and they were often satisfied with whatever the FBO's vending machines would dish out long after the airport cafe had closed. In other words, they had an utterly singular focus in life: flying. This is a strong predictor of success in the field of aviation. That said, it was at the expense of more-or-else everything else in their lives, I think.

This likely explains why my own flying ‘career’ left something — actually, a lot — to be desired. I obtained my glider pilot's license in Vacaville, California before I could drive a car. I always wanted to be able say I could fly before I could drive, and that I have been able to do. It was also before I graduated from high school. It was finishing up high school and a short stint at university that got in the way of spending more time soaring, enabled by my freshly minted license. I also quickly realized the staggering ratio reflected in the number of hours mowing lawns to one solitary rental hour in even the most modest sailplane. Which, even when I could afford it, was three hours drive away in a car I didn't own and still without that all-important drivers’ license.

A lot of life would go by before my next attempt at launching my flying career. I obtained my private pilot's license at Calgary Flight back when they were still located at the International Airport. There's nothing quite like the thrill of looking out the split rear window of a Cessna 152 and find it filled almost entirely by the front landing gear of an MD-80. It was number two while I was cleared for take-off on 35 with a quick turnout for nearby Springbank Airport. This is where I would cover most of the flight training syllabus. Ab initio is no longer permitted at CYYC but I'm glad to have had the challenging, shot-out-of-a-cannon experience of flying there as a novice. 2

Unfortunately, like the gliding part of my career, my time spent as pilot-in-command after I had obtained my ‘license to learn’ was very short indeed. A change in life circumstances shortly after my successful check ride meant there really wasn't enough disposable income to carry on flying. I thought every-other-month flights on calm, CAVU Saturday afternoons were basically a recipe for skills slowly degrading over time — nothing more. If I couldn't fly enough to be safe then best not fly at all, I thought at the time. I still do.

With the enthusiastic support of my wife, I even had a stab at building my own plane — an RV-6. 3 Thinking it might help get the cost of flying down, Michelle and I managed to get through the tail, wings and some of the fuselage before I was inevitably overwhelmed by the project. I ended up giving it to my nephews. There was only one condition: they had to be committed to finishing it as opposed to just putting it in storage. If that were to be the case, I might as well keep it. When they followed through and hauled it away, I was just glad to finally see it go. Michelle wept a little. Within a relatively short period I felt like doing the same thing — and have felt more-or-less the same way ever since. There is a happy ending to the story, though: the nephews kept their promise and C-FGYI flies like a dream. I hope I can summon the courage to go for a flight in her someday.

To say aviation has been a lifelong, abiding passion of mine is a vast understatement. I would better describe it as a quixotic, pulse-quickening and intoxicating obsession. Which brings me full circle to Saint-Exupéry. While I did manage to achieve my dream of becoming a pilot, in a purely technical sense, my lifelong internal conflict stems from never being able to summon the courage to set aside at least enough of Saint-Ex’s ‘petty things’ to be an aviator, like him.

Despite this, things that fly have lost absolutely none of their allure and ability to inpire my greatest dreams. That hasn't changed since I was five years old. Now in the meaty part of my seventh decade, I still have my nose squarely pressed up against the airport fence, hopeful eyes looking skyward and still find myself thinking, from time-to-time, “maybe that will be me someday.”

Until next time, fair winds and blue skies.

Terence C. Gannon
Managing Editor

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