A day in the life of. (very tongue-in-cheek)
Having dropped-off wife at work, you arrive at the airfield to find the aircraft still in the hangar with a thimbleful of fuel in each tank, four thousand dead flys on the windscreen, your enthusiastic student (James but call me Jamie) sat in the car park and the ‘impossible’ flying program on the desk. There are three instructors rostered for four columns of students, 3 aircraft (two of which are the wrong type and the third with a little under an hour left until the end of it's five hour extension) and a weather forecast that has more PROB40 TEMPOs than you can count.
Anyway, you brief circuits with you student, again (he didn’t bother to re-read the book because he was watching some trash on the TV) and walk to the aircraft just as your next student arrives in the car park (you know it is him as you recognize the BMW Z4). After much faffing (couldn’t find one of those paper funnel thingies for the oil) you finally get to starting the aircraft. Jamie lifts out his checklist, the one he bought from an online store, and starts looking around the cockpit for the primer and carb heat. There is neither a primer or carb heat in this fuel injected aircraft. Jamie gets grumpy saying that the store promised him this checklist covers all types of Cessna 172. Z4 man is wandering into the Club – you avoid eye contact whilst handing Jamie the free checklist that actually comes with the aircraft. He finally gets to starting but doesn’t want to shout “clear prop” – you do it for him. He engages the ignition and the mighty IO-360 bursts into life. Jamie is quite sharp and notices that the starter engaged light is still on – you point out that he needs to let go of the key. He checks his instruments (well not really, he aligns the DI and that is it) and you trundle towards the runway. The throttle is set at about 1800rpm and Jamie is testing the brakes, a lot. You also test the brakes in order to avoid the port wing hitting that very expensive Cirrus that Jamie hasn’t seen. Power checks are completed, Ts&Ps are fine (you wonder how Jamie knows that when the oil temp needle is still on the bottom stop) and off you go.
On the take-off roll the aircraft starts to veer left (those foot rests need a bit of grease) and Jamie tries to counter this by applying right aileron. At about 50kts Jamie calls ‘rotate’ and the aircraft leaps into the sky like a scalded cat that has an instant desire to turn right (remember that right aileron?). You sort things out and give the aircraft back to Jamie. He maintains a constant climbout at anywhere between 55 and 85kts and is quite pleased with himself. Before you remind him that he needs to occasionally look out of the window you casually point out that the balance ball is kissing the right hand side of the tube – Jamie applies a boot full of rudder. Time to turn. Jamie hacks the aircraft into a 30+ degree left turn whilst he is at the lower end of his climbout speed range and remembers that left aileron = left rudder so he applies a big boot full of left pedal – the balance ball has made it’s one and only appearance in the middle. Jamie doesn’t notice the stall warner as his new Lightspeed Zulus are doing a great job in canceling-out all the important noises. For the second time, you save his life.
You finally make it to downwind. Jamie starts his checks. He has learnt BUMMPPFFICHH because it was the biggest mnemonic in the book. Again he struggles to find the primer but is pleased with himself when he finds the carb heat. He presses the red button and pulls the plunger all the way out. You point out that he has just pulled the mixture to ICO and tell him that he may want to push it back in, quickly. Turning base Jamie has difficulty acquiring the airfield. You point out that the visibility is a bit poor today but it really would help if he hadn’t flown 4nm downwind. Jamie decides it is time to descend so he shoves the nose down. The ASI is somewhere near the green/yellow interface as Jamie realizes he is a little fast. He lowers two stages of flap calling "Flap one, flap two"
in the process. Miraculously, the flaps remain attached to the wings and do their job. The aircraft climbs a couple of hundred feet whilst Jamie trims forward in an attempt to arrest the pitch change. Nevertheless, he is pleased with the reduction in speed. Jamie realizes that he has flown through the centerline and heaves the aircraft into another one of his specialty turns. Still too high and too fast. Jamie lowers the nose a little, and then some more. You vaguely recollect previously telling him that configuration and speed control is key to a stable approach – you offer this again but Jamie has other ideas. The runway, miraculously, is the right place in the windscreen, Jamie only needs to sort out the 30kt excessive speed. He drops the last stage of flap ("Flap three") which finally pulls the ASI into the white arc. The speed now decays and Jamie decides it is time to reduce power – he goes for idle in one quick movement. Somehow he now manages to get the aircraft below the ideal glidepath and, recognizing this, he pitches up before applying power. Things are getting quiet. You cross the public road that passes the end of the runway and recollect that the local authority wisely chose bendy buses and not double deckers. What is that constant whining in your left ear? You remind Jamie that it is time to pitch up – he ignores you. You remind him again and finally help him ease to nose up to somewhere near the horizon just as the nosewheel touches down, quickly followed by the mains. Directional control is still a problem so you decide to stay down – hmmm, that shimmy is getting worse. Looking at you watch, you decide to call it a day. Jamie is all tired out and you taxi-in debriefing on the way back. Jamie doesn’t take anything on board.
Walking into the clubhouse you are collared by Z4 man – you ask him to wait a minute whilst you sort Jamie out. Jamie asks what needs to be put in the logbook – you tell him to copy the previous twelve entries and send him on his way. You dig out his student record and, short of time write “12/13 – Good”. Turning to Z4 man, you ask whether he has planned his long navigation route. “No, I thought we could do it together”.
Six trips later you finally pick-up Angry Wife from work. You point out that you are starving, only an hour and a half late and she should be thankful.
PS. I genuinely love my job.