Roadblocks in the Sky Part 1

An increasingly familiar, yet unwelcome sight.

Well, I think it’s time to continue the story, isn’t it? With my solo excursion to Lompoc, I had filled almost all the requirements to be able to take the checkride. The only thing I still had to do, other than practice maneuvers until I was proficient, was fly a 2-hr day cross country and a 2-hr night cross country with my instructor. I suppose the FAA feels that a commercial pilot should have some additional instruction on going places, since that’s eventually what a commercial pilot does.

We planned our flight to Visalia, in the lower central California valley. I liked the idea my instructor suggested of taking the cheaper Piper Warrior, since we weren't going to be practicing maneuvers anyway on this flight.

Fellowshipping aloft as we swap mission trip stories.

To get the 2 hours daytime, we left Auburn at 5:30 p.m., landing just after sunset (day-time is considered to go for up to about a half hour after sunset). As you probably guessed, all we had to do to get the 2 hours of nighttime was turn right around after refueling and head back to Auburn. The flight couldn’t have been timed more perfectly: exactly 2.0 hours for each leg, meaning no extra flight time I had to pay for. “I think that Someone had that one planned out,” my instructor remarked happily. I agreed.

With the last requirement out of the way, the reality started sinking in that the only step remaining now was the checkride itself. But getting to take that checkride was going to prove to be more of a challenge than I thought. Looking at my neatly penciled 3-week schedule, I could see where it had already been necessary to rearrange several things and cut out others. But I was still making progress, maintaining my momentum of studying hard and flying regularly, and I had even made sure to reserve the plane for my target checkride date of October 3. I hadn’t reserved an examiner yet, however.

It quickly became painfully clear that it could be more weeks than I could afford before an examiner would be available. You see, examiners are very busy people and failing to get something scheduled early on put me in a tough place. The problem that a student on a budget faces is how to achieve a peak level of proficiency and maintain that long enough to get the test over with. Become good at something and then fail to practice for several weeks and you’ll feel almost like you’ve forgotten how to fly a plane the next time you go aloft. Or get good at something and pay big bucks to keep that skill level by going out to rehearse again and again. Naturally, once you’re nailing the maneuvers, you want to take the checkride as soon as possible and be done.

October 3 wasn’t going to happen though. After calling the examiner that I wanted to fly with and talking with him a bit more, we came up with a plan for the 10^th, one week later. “But if we’re scheduling, just be sure you’re really ready because I have a lot of people cancel on me last minute,” he cautioned. I assured him that I wanted to plan on that date, while I shifted uncomfortably on my end of the phone. I might not be ready today…but I’m going to make sure I’m ready by the 10^th!

Taxiing for another pattern pounding session.

And so it was the final sprint. Up and down in the plane, back and forth from the airport. Wake up, exercise, have devotions and breakfast, take care of household chores and then hit the books. I was actually glad for the extra week to study for the oral, and my spreadsheet estimates made it look like there would be just enough funds for the additional flying.

When I showed up one morning to fly with my instructor, he had some good news for me. “I just talked with Rick and he’s going to be able to do a stage check with you on the 8^th.” A stage check with an examiner is basically a mock checkride, and is a valuable tool for preparing for the real thing. My busy examiner had been freed up a bit and now I would have the benefit of doing some ground and flight time with him before the big day. Both my instructor and I could see God’s hand working.

October 8 dawned bright and clear. The California climate was being true to its nature and things were shaping up wonderfully for the checkride two days away. I got to the airport and met Rick the examiner, who had flown his plane over from his home airport. My instructor saw me coming through the door and gave me a bit of ribbing. “You must be pretty confident, as I don't see you carrying a ton of books!” Yeah, sure.

Looking for the source of the latest trouble.

We sat down and started going over the highlights of regulations, flight planning, systems, and all the other pertinent topics. I took notes as we came upon unfamiliar questions, soaking up Rick’s knowledge and insight. Things were going swimmingly until my instructor showed up again. He had just returned from a flight with another commercial student. They were pulling the plane into the shop to get it up on jacks because the Gear In Transit light wasn’t turning off when the wheels were retracted. I groaned.

After poking around, Bob the mechanic figured out that a bad nose gear microswitch was causing the problem. They would overnight the part, and as for my examiner and I…well, we would just fly on checkride day.