MS – "Just thinking outside the box a bit, but wouldn't it be great if in every capital city a group of old flyers could get together every Friday lunchtime or anytime in a spirit of friendship at a different flight school each week and put on a sausage sizzle and offer their services as mentors, tell stories of the good and the bad and encourage both instructors and students, to think about things like good airmanship and all that that encompasses. These guys and girls need leadership. Or do you think it's to late and that Gen Y won't be told. I do hope not."
Don't laugh – but I blame the booze bus for a lot of aviation woes. Back in the day there was nearly always a BBQ on a Friday, somewhere, few beers, waiting and watching for returning tribal members, watching the landings, taxi in and shut down; swapping the days yarns; listening to the ginger beers telling us what was fixed, why it was broken, who 'dun it' and what was 'dun wrong'. The airport crew used to drop in, ATCO's, Flight service, Met man, anyone who was around really. Sometimes even the guys from 'the opposition', (it was a matter of pride to visit and dispatch of as much of their provisions as possible). I reckon I learned a lot about my trade listening to 'grown ups around the camp fire'.
Those days are gone; finished by the booze bus. Perhaps it's the rose tinted lens but I remember toddling off in my airport car (wreck) drifting home tired, but happy thinking about the priceless information freely offered over a 'cold one' and a snag sandwich.
These days, the idea of passing along knowledge is tinged with fear and suspicion, wrapped in a tissue thin defence against prosecution for telling anyone 'how it's done' any other way but 'as read in the book'. The rule of black letter law regulation and being done DUI has taken a lot of fun out staying behind after school and swapping stories.
The other side of the coin is that few of the new kids ever 'learned' to work, how to set up a task or how to tidy up after themselves, turn off the light, fix a motor bike; or, to believe they were any thing else but a protected species and the world is indeed their oyster. It's not their fault, just the way of bringing up kids these days.
Aye well –
.