I came over the fence at 100 mph in the Cessna 172. Even the traffic reporter sitting to my right knew I was way too fast. I saw her hands tighten around her seatbelt harness, her knuckles whiten.
Halfway down the 3,000-foot runway, I’d only bled off 20 mph. Normally I’d have firewalled the throttle and flown a go-around. Instead, when the wheels touched pavement with 300 feet of runway left, I retracted the flaps and stood on the brakes.
“You never go around in the Flight Restricted Zone,” my boss — the owner of the airplane — had warned when he hired me. [Read more…]