AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2012 - 106

NEVERAGAIN
it, I could see the big “N” floating right where it should be. After settling back, I looked down and, of course, the railroad track was nowhere to be seen. I remembered a tip my multiengine and multi-thousand-hour pilot Uncle John Calvert had given me. “If you ever find yourself flying at night and your radios go out, climb! As long as you can see lights in front of you, you’re OK!” Climbing as fast as I could, calling “Mayday, Mayday!” on my one-crystal “radio”—in a pitch at least one octave higher than my normal speaking voice— I finally reached an altitude from which I could see the lights of two large cities. One was to my left at about 40 degrees and one at the same angle to my right. OK, the one to my left is obviously Louisville and the one to my right must be Lexington, which is on my course to Cincinnati. I will proceed to Lexington. Then began my paranoia: A student pilot, flying an airplane with no lights and no nav instruments, who lands at a municipal airport at night, anywhere in the United States of America, shall

be stripped of his license, his airplane, his commission, and what remains of his dignity. So be the judgment of this court, and if I had my way you would be paraded through the streets with a sign hanging around your neck reading, Idiot of the Century. No way can I let that happen. The Silver Bullet is performing beautifully, I have at least two-plus hours of fuel remaining, and I can see lights in all directions. Perhaps a straight stretch of highway… ah, there’s one with just a few cars going in a straight line for at least a couple of miles…get down a little closer, drag the highway…hold it! There is a field beside the road! I flared out a little high and thought I would never touch down, but I did, and rolled to a stop about 90 feet from a barn. After I had stopped shaking, I climbed out of the airplane and spotted a path leading through the trees to my left. I followed it down a little ravine, across a creek, and up the hill, and came out of a clearing to see an old farmhouse with the old farmer sitting in an old rocking chair puffing on an old pipe. “I heard you circling around up there. You picked the only field within 40 miles

of here level enough to land in. They been trying to get me to sell to put in a strip but I still got to think about it for a bit. Good thing you picked that field. I just cleared trees outa the one next to it, yesterday. Fulla stumps!” I spent the rest of the night in a small hotel; paid the taxi driver to pick me up at daylight, and showed him how to give me a prop; took off; and landed without further event. More than 2,000 hours and five airplanes later, I still carry the memory of that flight. And I will also never forget my Boy Scout training, “Be prepared.” Mel Calvert, AOPA 1078212, is a private pilot who lives in Batesville, Indiana. He is the author of How I Quit Smoking and Lived to Tell About It.

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AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2012

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