Making one teen’s aviation dreams come true

There was a time when a kid could grab a ride down to the local airport, wander by an open hangar, and find themselves washing an airplane along with the owner.

Or perhaps they helped with an oil change. Maybe they fitted a few inspection panels into place after the completion of an annual.

Whatever the task, it was usually simple, straightforward, and done under the watchful eye of the owner or the local mechanic.

When the dirty work was done, the reward was worth the effort. The kid often got to tag along on the maintenance flight. That experience, or one similar, provided an entry to aviation for an untold number of ambitious, excited kids who followed up on that first flight, ultimately becoming aviation professionals. A fair number of aeronautical hobbyists got their start the same way.

It’s been said that model is gone now. With chain link fences topped with razor wire, “Keep Out” signs festooned every 100 feet, and a generally unwelcoming feel, the general aviation airport isn’t what it used to be.

Nonsense. The airport is what we make of it.

If we decide to provide access to our hangars, our aircraft, and our insights, we can. There is no regulation or rule that prevents us from being welcoming to strangers. There is no prohibition on a big smile, a warm handshake, or an enthusiastic invitation to come on down to the airport to see the sights and experience general aviation firsthand.

My perspective on this point isn’t theoretical. It’s factual. It’s been put into practice by a handful of folks who are finding the method works well.

As an example I’ll throw out the story of James Vanvakas, an everyman if ever there was one.

He’s a teenager. Just 16 years old, James is bright and quick with a smile and has a baseball cap affixed to his head at all times.

James’ hope is to become an aircraft mechanic. But with no members of his family or friend group involved in aviation, that dream seemed unlikely to be fulfilled.

And yet…

We met when James was just 14 years old. He’d enrolled in an elective class at his high school that focused on aviation. His teacher, who I spent a good deal of time with, invited him out to the airport along with a few dozen other kids and their parents for what we called “Aviation Day.”

With the help of a handful of volunteer pilots, we invited anyone who was interested to go for a flight. Kids got excited. Siblings asked if they could go, too. More than a few parents took the opportunity for what it was worth, although they tended to demonstrate a bit more trepidation than their children.

By the end of the day we had enough students and parents interested in the idea of getting involved in aviation to form a high school flying club.

James wasn’t able to attend that event. But he was interested, so we made arrangements for him to fly with me in the venerable yellow and black Cessna 152 I refer to as my company car.

James taxied well, followed me on the controls for the takeoff, and was in complete control of the airplane by the time we passed through 200 feet. The smile that spread across his face told the story. He was hooked.

Over time, James’ involvement in the flying club helped him transition from a very quiet, fairly shy kid to a far more knowledgeable and confident young man.

He took on the role of the project lead for the 1945 Piper J-3 Cub restoration project he and his peers are involved with.

Occasionally, I would send him to a hangar on the perimeter of the airport grounds to ask a highly experienced Cub mechanic a question or two. In the process James realized that he wasn’t an interloper. He was actively engaged in restoring a classic aircraft. Others on the field came to respect his drive.

In short, he became one of the regulars. An airplane guy.

Today, at an age when I had not yet earned my driver’s license and was relegated to work the family farm after school each day, James is working line service for Jack Brown’s Seaplane Base in Winter Haven, Florida. He fuels the aircraft, pumps out the floats, and helps move them into and out of the water as needed.

He’s also lending a hand in the hangar with the maintenance and restoration of aircraft that are remarkably similar to the Cub he’s been making slow progress on over the past two years.

James is now professionally engaged in general aviation with his goal of becoming an A&P mechanic well in hand. Who knows? Perhaps he’ll earn a pilot certificate along the way, too.

There is absolutely nothing that prevents this same dynamic from happening at any one of the roughly 20,000 airports in the U.S. All our young dreamers need is a mentor or two who are willing to usher them through the gate, walk them to a hangar, and teach them how to function as a responsible participant.

In time a good percentage of those kids will catch the bug. Like you did. Like I did. Like James has.

Sometimes lifting someone up has very little to do with wings, relative wind, and horsepower. It can be a result of simply caring, interacting, and becoming a mentor to someone who very much wants to know what you know and do what you do.

That sounds like a flattering and productive opportunity to me. Give it a try if you’re willing. You won’t regret the effort and you just might take great pride in the result. Deservedly so.