THE VINTAGE INSTRUCTOR
A new set of skills DOUG STEWART
“No,
no, no . . . you’re pulling back on the stick. That’s why the nose is dropping.” The voice in my headset was helping to make my head feel as if my brains were going to melt and start dripping out my ears. Worse yet my stomach felt as if it were getting ready to display the contents of my light breakfast in my lap. “You’ve got to start coming forward with the stick as you transition from knife edge to inverted, or that nose will drop. I’ve got it . . . let me show you again,” Stan said as we rolled, yet again, through one more four-point roll. We had been flying aerobatic maneuvers for close to an hour at this point and my fun meter was just about pegged out. I had reached that saturation point where my performance was going to be all downhill from this point on. It was a good thing we were going to be descending for the airport in just a short time. In the back seat of the Super Decathlon we were flying was Stan Segalla, known to many as “The Flying Farmer.” He regularly thrills the crowds at the Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome every Sunday with his hilarious routine in a PA-11 Piper Cub. One would not think that a Piper Cub could do the things that Stan does with it. I would call it absolute mastery of uncoordinated flight. At the end of the act he shows masterly perfection by coming to a stop, after a dead stick landing, directly beside his farmer’s straw hat that had “blown” out of the cockpit as he took off. And now he was encouraging me to strive for that same type of perfection in the air. Not that I was preparing for an air show performance. I was just taking recurrent aerobatic training to keep my skills sharp. Stan is a hard taskmaster. He doesn’t have you fly one maneuver and then fly straight and level for five minutes while you discuss what 10
MARCH 2004
Why would someone want to go flying expecting to get a stomach that churns more than the bottom of a roll cloud in advance of a thunderstorm, and a head that throbs greater than a round engine?
you have just done. No . . . he has you sequence from one maneuver to the next with very few breaks. Unless, of course, that you mess up, or get disoriented, which is real easy to do. He’ll have you fly a loop, followed immediately by an aileron roll, then dive to gain the energy for a half-Cubaneight to reverse course, coming out of that into a fourpoint roll, sequencing to a barrel roll. Now reverse course with a hammerhead. Then perhaps two or three aileron rolls in sequence (that one can really get my stomach going) and a course reversal with an Immelman. Are you starting to get the picture? You certainly get your money’s worth with Stan. After an hour of training (if you can last that long) you could easily fly over forty maneuvers. With some aerobatic instructors you might only get to fly ten or fifteen maneuvers in an hour. That’s not so with Stan. And one of the amazing things is that Stan is more than 70 years old. He just doesn’t get tired at all. Period. Many pilots would wonder why anyone would want to subject themselves to the physical stress of aerobatic flight, or why anyone would subject oneself to the G loads incurred in flight other than straight and level. Why would someone want to go flying expecting to get a stomach that churns more than the bottom of a roll cloud in advance of a thunderstorm, and a head that throbs greater than a round engine? Well, for some it’s just plain (or should I spell that ‘plane’) fun. After a few hours of aerobatic flight most pilots will adapt to the G loading and no longer find