Half The Time Of Powered Flight - Part 1

Pilots ask questions of other pilots. They ask, "Where have you been?" "What do you fly?" "What airplane do you like best?" "How many hours do you have?" "What ratings do you have?" "How long have you been flying?"

Much like dogs sniffing each other, it is a way to communicate-to find common ground-to look for information that may be of benefit to the questioner.

The answers to those questions are short and specific-in my case, it's easy to relay where I've flown lately as almost all flights are IFR.

I fly a King Air 200-but also own and fly Piper singles and twins, a Beech Baron 58, a Lake amphibian, a Kolb LSA, an Enstrom helicopter, two Aerostar balloons, and my old friend-my first airplane, a Cessna 120 that I bought as a private pilot back in 1964. I've flown

342 unique types of airplanes (depends on how you count them-there is no standard). I have something over 30,000 hours.

Ratings: ATP, type ratings in Lear Jets, CE-500 series Citations, Falcon 10, Sabreliner series, and Westwind/Jet Commander aircraft. Single and multi-engine land and sea (the latter a rare rating). Commercial glider, helicopter, balloon. Flight instructor ratings Airplane, Multi-engine, Instrument, Glider, Advanced and Instrument Ground Instructor.

Less often asked is the remaining question-"How long have you been flying?"

That depends on where you choose to start-I took my first airplane ride at the age of 3 1/2-it was in a Navion, and was conducted from a hayfield near Ellendale, Minnesota, that sometimes was used as a landing strip. My Dad had won a drawing in our small-town store for an airplane ride-so took me along, sitting on his lap. I distinctly recalled being amazed that the pilot and I BOTH had "steering wheels," and grabbed onto it. My dad pulled my hands off, but the pilot laughed and encouraged me to go ahead and "feel the airplane" as he banked it from side to side. I enjoyed it-my dad told me later "You USED to be a pretty smart kid, but you didn't talk right for two years afterward!"

I had a few airplane rides in the next dozen years. In 1962, at age 15, I had a succession of part-time jobs. Like most teenagers, I was looking for my own independence and identity. An opportunity came up through my Spanish class in school for a summer-school exchange program in Torreon, Mexico. Though classes were in English, a working knowledge of Spanish was required. Like most kids, I asked my parents if I could do that ... they checked it out, then asked "Do you have the tuition?" I had saved my money to eventually buy a car

(we were not well-off, and only had one car) and said that I did. They surprised me by giving me the OK.

I spent the summer in Mexico, living with a family, studying Spanish and Mexican history (the instructor was a professor at the University of Mexico of ancient Mexican history-and cultures of the Aztecs, Toltecs, and Mayans-which I found fascinating). While attending school, we had "field trips" to Mexico City-and the Aztec capital of Teotehuacan was just being excavated. Since I was ahead in my studies, three of us asked if we might extend for an additional week to visit the archeological sites-permission granted. Fifteen years old and on my own in a foreign country, exploring prehistoric ruins! It was straight out of "Raiders of the Lost Ark"-and I felt like Indiana Jones!

I mention this because it was a dividing line in my life-after an experience like this, I had little time for high school sports and activities. My parents were shocked but proud of my accomplishments. They asked "What are you going to next? Out of the blue, I told them "I'm going to learn to fly!" I hadn't thought about it, but it was the first uniquely "adult" thing I could think of. Once again, they looked into it, and again said "You can do it, but you'll have to pay for it on your own!" Evenings and weekends, I worked laying concrete drain tile in the lowlands on local farms for a drainage company.

I took my first flight lesson on Aug. 20, 1962. The airport was 9 miles from our home, and my mother drove me to the airport for the first lesson-in a 1960 Cessna 172. Since I couldn't solo until my 16th birthday-eight months away-I kept the lessons short-just half an hour-and once a month was all I could afford-I would pick up the pace as my upcoming 16th birthday approached-and I switched to the lower cost 1961 Cessna 150. I had a potential problem-I got airsick on almost every flight. The instructor assured me that I'd get through this with more experience, so I kept at it. After all, I was FLYING, when all of my classmates were doing "kid things!" Too young for a driver's license, I had to ride my bike to the airport to go flying. On my birthday, May 1, 1963-I soloed! For the second time in my life-I defined

a major goal-and met it. Goals set-goals achieved-it set the course for the rest of my life.

I wouldn't be building time for my private and commercial ratings very fast at this rate-so my uncle and I were going to buy a Champ-

at a total cost of $1,000 at the time. My dad, who didn't fly, didn't like the idea of "My kid getting up in one of those cloth airplanes" but also didn't want to dissuade me. In October 1963, he went with me to the airport. A young man was telling the FBO "I'm going to have to sell my Cessna 120-I'm getting married, and she wants a living room set more than she wants an airplane!" My dad motioned me aside and asked me to show him the airplane-"Is it a good one? Do you think you could arrange a ride in it for me?" I set the ride for the next day, and though it was cold, windy, and raining, I saw it go by through the big windows in the old school house. I didn't ask him-he would tell me himself if he wanted to-and three days later, asked "Do you have $900? I did-I was still working laying drainage tile-and I never did buy that car I was saving for. "Then we are partners on that Cessna 120-but don't tell Ma-I have to buy her that freezer she wants to keep the peace!" I could FLY an airplane before I could legally drive a car-and I owned an airplane before I owned a car! I got my Private License on my 17th birthday, and my Commercial at 18-thanks to that old 120.

Editor's Note: Jim Hanson has been the FBO at Albert Lea, Minnesota, for 40 years. Far from living in the past, he enjoys flying almost anything in aviation. If you have a unique aircraft he may not have flown, contact him at jimhanson@deskmedia.com or (507) 373-0608. Don't try calling him at home, though, like most FBOs, his wife says "He doesn't live here-he lives at the airport!" Jim says, "AS THE OLD AERONAUTICAL SAYING GOES-"OLD AGE IS WHEN YOUR COURSE CHANGES FROM "TO"-TO "FROM"!