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Ultralight Flying Adventures! Four Worthless Items! Originally published in: Ultralight Flying! May, 1987 I've often heard it said that three items are totally worthless: "the altitude above you, the runway behind you, and the fuel stop you passed up." As an ultralight flight instructor, I've been tempted to add a few of my own. At the top of the list would be "overconfidence, or the skill you don't have." Actually, "overconfidence" doesn't always cause you problems but often it creates a false sense of your own abilities. For example . . . John (not his real name) came into my shop one day as I was doing preventative maintenance on our rental ultralights. We chatted for awhile and he seemed interested but not too interested. A few days later John showed up again with an Eipper MX he had just bought through an ad in the local paper. (I guess he was more interested than I thought.) He had stopped in to show me his ultralight and to find out what rules he had to fly by. I figured I'd better find out about this guy or he might just go out and kill himself; very bad for business. I suggested he take a least a couple of hours of dual flight instruction prior to soloing his ultralight. It usually takes just a couple of 1 hour lessons to convince most people of the value of complete flight training. John got a very indignant look on his face and with his nose high said, "I don't think I need to do that. I'm a licensed pilot and I think I can handle one of these all right." I took a little time trying to get him to understand the seriousness of what he was thinking of attempting but he only seemed to become more opposed to the idea of training. Maybe if he heard it from some other authority figure, it might sink in. So I took him over to the airport office to meet the owner, Bill. After the introductions, Bill suggested he take a couple of hours of dual flight instruction prior to flying his ultralight. John listened politely to Bill's suggestion but again stated that he could handle a "simple" ultralight. John and I wandered back to his ultralight and I went over it with him to make sure it was flyable. I spotted a couple of minor things wrong with it and suggested he fix those immediately. Since it was a used ultralight, I suggested he should take the time to totally dismantle the craft and carefully inspect all the bolts, cables, and inpsect every part for bends, kinks and fractures, replacing anything that even looked suspicious before he test flew it. The next day John taxied his ultralight for its first test runs. Since it was 11 a.m. in the middle of June, in desert country, I felt I should say something. We chatted for a moment and I pointed out that the thermals were getting pretty strong for a first-time ultralight pilot (we had already stopped flying for the day). I suggested that just before sunset or very early the next morning would be a lot safer. John gave me that "look" again and said, "I'm not planning to fly it today, just do a few taxi runs." "Fine," I said, "but take it real slow at first and slowly build up your speed. Don't be in a hurry, it will only get you in trouble." Just then a twin engine Seminole taxied up and out popped my fellow instructor, Mike. He invited me to fly the Seminole. I sure wasn't going to pass up this opportunity so away we went. About 15 minutes later we were on final when I noticed a bunch of people running towards a settling dust cloud on the ultralight runway. As we got closer I finally made out the disturbance. Sprawled out across the runway, upside down and bent was John's ultralight. Mike landed the Seminole and taxied over quickly to see if John was injured. As we pulled to a stop I could see John climbing out of the wreckage, made as a hornet, but otherwise okay. A few days later, John came into my business to talk about what had happened. He was a lot more subdued this time and he seemed genuinely open to what I had to say. As we chatted, the major cause of his accident became obvious. It was his own confidence level. He was not a licensed pilot as he had stated, but rather was in the process of learning to fly at a local flight school. At the time of his accident he had a total of 6 hours of flight instruction and hadn't even soloed. He hadn't passed the written examination for private pilots and wasn't even aware of what the term "wing loading" meant. He said he was just taxiing the ultralight slowly down the runway when he suddenly found himself about 15 to 30 feet in the air. In his panic he over reacted to the situation and chopped the throttle. This resulted in a low altitude departure stall and subsequent crash. Since the accident, John has rebuilt his ultralight and has taken several hours of dual training with me. He is now a USUF registered ultralight pilot and flies his ultralight quite safely. Many times in the last few years I have seen ultralight pilots get into trouble because of a confidence level much greater than their actual skill level. The way to build your skill is not to constantly exceed your limits but rather to always fly in conditions that your skill level can handle. Mother Nature will provide ample opportunities for you to develop greater skills just by flying around. Don't let your ego get in the way of safe flying. Just because you handled a freak wind condition yesterday doesn't mean you'll succeed today. If the wind is strong enough to fly a good sized kite, it may be wiser to go fly a kite and leave the ultralight for another day. Only you know what your true skill level is. So fly within your limits, put a parachute on your ultralight, and always remember the four worthless items: "the altitude above you, the runway behind you, the fuel stop you passed up, and the skill you don't have."
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