Any old airplane will do

It’s been said so often the expression borders on being a cliché, but the old assertion is as true as true can be. Our travels often turn out to be less about the destination and more about the journey itself.

Who might we meet? What might we see? Which memories will stick with us for years, perhaps powerful enough to guide our future decisions and actions?

Such was the case with last week’s jaunt to the mid-Atlantic states in the machine I have affectionately and generically been referring to as my company car for the past seven years.

I say affectionately because after more than 30 years of logging Cessna 152 time, I still can’t shake the belief that it is a fine aircraft. Easy to fly, inexpensive to own, slow enough to enjoy the scenery below, but much faster than a car traveling along a surface road. 

I use the term “generically” because I’m not really referring to a single airplane. There have been several company cars in my history. This is just the latest and the one I’ve flown the greatest distances with.

There was N152UC and N152UF. Then came N106UC, a wonderful airplane with long-range tanks that allowed me to fly from the panhandle to central Florida in a single hop. Ultimately, that beauty was replaced by N103UC, which I picked up in Houston from my good friend and extraordinarily capable counterpart Pat Brown a few months back. 

All my former traveling companions are in private hands now, recirculated back into the general aviation population where they will provide an aerial perch for others to experience the joys I have and more. I’ve been lucky enough to meet some of those owners. Good people with adventurous hearts who look forward to logging hours, traveling extensively, boring holes in the local ether, and seeking adventure in a thoroughly updated classic airframe.

Good luck to them, one and all.

The larger point of all this is, of course, virtually anyone can find an inexpensive airplane on the market, buy it, restore it to the degree they wish, and fly it for years and years to come. Best of all, they can do it affordably.

Whether that owner is an individual, like Jorge Navarro who took N105UC home to the midwest recently, or the Miami-based Canadian couple who bought N106UC to travel and build time, or the Nate Abel Flying Club in Fort Worth, Texas, that has been operating N150UC for years, bringing Rusty Pilots back into the fold and introducing new enthusiasts to the world as seen from above.

Flying is optional, but maintenance is mandatory, and restoration is always a possibility. As a result, aircraft tend to last a whole lot longer than other vehicles. Even the ugly examples with dull paint, ripped interiors, and ancient instrument panels can be resurrected, brought back to a state even better than when they were new. With that, a whole new series of adventures, friendships, and life-affirming experiences can take place.

But that’s just the machinery. There is a more important component to aviation that often goes unnoticed.

Here’s a bit of a secret you may not have picked up on in all the years I’ve been writing for General Aviation News. I rarely write about aircraft. Sure, it seems like I do, but I don’t. Not really. Rather, I’m far more fascinated with the people I meet, the experiences that come my way, and the happy accidents that stick in my memory so well.

Take for example my new friend Will. 

Unable to reach my intended destination due to low ceilings, I landed pre-emptively at Fitzgerald, Georgia, last week. The single runway provided me with a good place to plan out the next leg of my journey with the benefit of a good WiFi signal, a comfy seat on a couch in an air-conditioned FBO, and even a freshly topped off fuel tank. Everything I needed was available at KFZG, so that’s where I landed. And that’s where I met Will, the only other living soul on the field.

Will is the friendly sort. The kind of airport manager who carries out pretty much all the duties of running the FBO, because he’s the only one there. As I wandered past the tree-shaded canopy enveloping the entrance to the building, through the doors, and into the main room, Will popped up, strode into the main room and introduced himself.

The self-serve fuel pumps awaited my arrival, but since Will wasn’t overly tasked at that moment he volunteered to come out and help me fill my tanks. He didn’t have to do that. It is self-serve after all. But he’s a good guy, so he helped.

It’s that little extra effort that really impresses me. 

We chatted as the fueling process was underway and learned a thing or two about each other. Will owns an experimental airplane that appeals to me, although I’ve never flown one. It turns out we have mutual friend, too. My buddy Paul Duty, who does such a great job at Gleim Publications, is the CFI who taught Will to fly. Small world, huh?

I’ve never even heard of Fitzgerald, Georgia, before. And if all I’d found there was a shaded rocking chair, a self-service fuel pump, and a restroom, I would have been satisfied, but it probably wouldn’t have made much of an impression on me. Instead, I found a beautiful shady spot with multiple rocking chairs, an airport manager who put real effort into making a transient pilot happy, and we both made a new friend in the process.

Yep, the flying is amazing. The destinations get me excited. I find a bond with the airplane and enjoy the fields I land at for what they are. But the people I meet along the way are what really makes the whole lifestyle worthwhile.

Go fly somewhere. See if you don’t have a similarly satisfying experience. Even if you’re piloting an old airframe with dingy paint, worn seats, and a less than impressive radio stack, I think you’ll find the folks you come across at the destinations you find will be all you ever hoped they’d be, and more.

And if you see a yellow and black C-152 on the ramp, go say Hi for me, will ya? That might be a friend.