Ways & Means

The moment that changed my life trajectory happened over 40 years ago at Maryland Airport (2W5) just south of Washington, D.C. I was 25 years old. It was a lazy weekend summer day. My partner and I were flying, cleaning, polishing and generally fussing over our 1947 Taylorcraft, N6614N, a BC12-4-85. I was a private pilot with about 300 hours total time and no instrument rating. My partner was learning to fly in our airplane---cheaper in the long run than renting (if nothing goes wrong).

The moment struck after a comment I made, a thoughtless comment, really, but one launched from a silo hidden deep in my heart---a primordial prayer, formed in an instant and delivered to the world, blurted out without review or revision from the conscious mind---truth coming straight from the heart.

I was taking a break in the airport office/FBO lobby/parts room/component back shop, standing at the counter and chatting with Jack Crawford, the proprietor of Bauserman Flying Service. Jack was busy looking for something, shuffling the papers on his desk, listening to me (responding with an occasional distracted nod/grunt) and chewing his ever-present cigar, stopping occasionally to offload a wad of chewed tobacco into an old tin ashtray on the desk or (more often than not) onto the hangar/office/parts room floor.

To my right, a fellow airport tenant, George, was reading a magazine. George flew a Breezy he built. George was never very chatty; always struck me as kind of standoffish.

For no particular reason, my heart launched the missile and my mouth blurted out, "Man, if I could get a Second Class medical, I'd fly for a living."

George piped up and said, "So get one."

"I can't; my uncorrected vision is below the limit."

"Get a waiver," he said.

First thing Monday morning, I called the Medical Examiner and began the process. Two months later, I got a letter from the FAA in OK City. I opened it and another Technicolor memory was born. There it was, my Second Class flight physical with one restriction: I had to wear glasses when flying. Duh!

While some aviating career options still seemed difficult, if not totally out of reach (military and Part 121 air carrier), the life option to fly for a living became immediately real. A virtual kaleidoscope of new life pathways unfolded before me. I had only to choose a ladder and begin climbing the rungs. The climb was a journey, and the journey was, I later came to see, the destination.

As it turns out, I'm fidgety, so not suited for air carrier operations or the limits and rigidly structured rationing of military flight time. So I became a crop duster, flew the bush in North Africa and, finally, a VIP charter out of Washington Reagan and Dulles Airports. I've flown the meek, the great and the near great. Every day presented me with a new and challenging adventure with problems to solve, lessons to learn, rare experiences to live.

The right pathways unfold before us if we let go of external expectations and listen---revealed as we keep moving to the song in our heart.

Along the way, I've formed deep connections with the men and women I've met on similar aerial journeys---regardless if our personalities mesh or not, or the connection to aviation is hobby, avocation, interest or dedicated career. Fixed or rotor wing, powered or not, to a lesser or greater degree, the unique connection is a strong and tangible intangible---like magnetism. Above all, following the deepest desire in my heart---oftentimes in apparent odds to the practical considerations of economic success and social approval---proved to be the true course line of my destiny.

And, so, at the tender and dimly aware age of 25, The Universe delivered evidence that would one day be recognized as one of the great mysteries of existence---the core of one's heart creates the reality of one's life.

I have been enthralled.

Lou Churchville is a commercial pilot, writer and marketing communications professional. He holds single and multi-engine land, instrument, glider and Certified Flight Instructor ratings.