Howdy... Happy Easter, everyone. I'm writing this from a Starbucks (natch) in the Nashville Airport, awaiting my flight to Jacksonville, for the start of my sport pilot training. No joke. I'm really, REALLY starting to believe this is gonna happen.
I spoke Friday with the man who will be my instructor -- I spent an hour on the phone with him, discussing topics ranging from where to take my FAA written exam (there's a place in St. Aug that's open six days a week) to what he thinks about the Gobosh ("it flies really nicely, and I love that it has a six-pack [of gauges]") to how long he's been instructing ("let me think... I think I'm coming up on my 35th year.")
As I type this while slamming the rest of my Java Chip frap (BIG mistake) my instructor, Jim, is flying the Gobosh to the airpark where my boss, also-Jim, resides, and where I'll be staying. Which leads to what I expect will be my first adventure: learning to depart and land on a 2,600-foot grass airstrip, my first introduction to non-paved runways, shorter than the 4,000' runway at Grand Prairie Muni (and I thought 4,000 ft was short!)
I can't wait.
As I type this while slamming the rest of my Java Chip frap (BIG mistake) my instructor, Jim, is flying the Gobosh to the airpark where my boss, also-Jim, resides, and where I'll be staying. Which leads to what I expect will be my first adventure: learning to depart and land on a 2,600-foot grass airstrip, my first introduction to non-paved runways, shorter than the 4,000' runway at Grand Prairie Muni (and I thought 4,000 ft was short!)
I can't wait.
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