When I was a kid, I had my life was mapped out at the age of eight years old.
First, I thought I would join the military, become a fighter pilot, score thirty kills, and earn the Congressional Medal of Honor.
At one time 99% of young pilots were chasing 1% of the flying jobs - that of pilot for a major airline. But at some point, kids stopped hanging around airports. There was no longer âthe kid at the airport fenceâ there was just more fence. And gate card access. And surveillance cameras. No kids came out to see what the new paint scheme was on the Cherokees this year or talk the crabby old flight school owner into swapping airplane washes for a hour of dual ( but you had to wash the CFIâs car to get him to go along with it).
No, at some point they had to make that 1% job more appealing and they dropped the degree requirement.
And you didnât need to have come up through the military. And you didnât need to love flying enough to sneak on with the CFI when he moved up to flying checks in a decrepit Cessna 402, and your parents grounded you for a week when you got back. âNo son of mine is gonna go trotting off to Teterboro in the middle of a school nightâ
No, that wasnât a requirement to be an airline pilot . But when furloughs came, and they did ( and they will) youâll need to have some of that love left as a seed to regrow a career not of your choosing.
Or you can be the guy your co- workers at Home Depot call âCapânâ.
I donât know what others may think, but Kevin, you certainly could have been (and could be⌠and probably are) a writer. Wonderful essay and especially poignant for those of us in the medicare+ age. You and Ernie Gann (I didnât know him, but Iâve read enough of his books to use âErnieâ) could be from the same writing mold. Of course, itâs early on a Saturday morning and I might be in a somewhat altered state of consciousness⌠but seriously, this is a great essay and I thank you!
Thanks KG&n. You just reminded me I got into my aviation career 40 feet AGL painting roof trim on new hangars at a new airport for Ray Gordils who gave me 1 hour dual with him in his Comanche on Sundays for every ten hours of brush time. I never aspired to be a glorified Boeing bus driver but instead to fly coast to coast in my antique taildragger on my own spontaneous route on my own schedule, sometimes sleeping under the wing⌠and did it three times by 30.
No master plan, just a wish I didnât think my bad eyes would support. My advice is to prepare yourself for opportunities and be pleasant/helpful to everyone you can be along the way. Folks will go out of their way to help, recognizing the same fire they had and seeing you as someone theyâd like to helpâŚreturn that communal favor when you can.
âŚwhen you get there, especially when youâre âembracing the suckâ, as our Army friends would say, donât forget to smell the rosesâŚone day encrusted in ancient spark plug cleaner sand and dripping in 90 degree/90% cursing how long it was taking for each of the 18 spark plugs, I looked up from the back of the hangar. My (my!!) plane was parked nearby, accompanied by other folksâ L-39, Corsair, Yak 9, a âgate-guardâ F-86 in for a respray and a B-25 nosed in under the hangar door for a polish. My 10 year old self would have been in hog heaven!
More than anything, itâs determination and a willingness to jump, especially when youâre not sure how it will turn out, and if even more fortunate, paired with someone just as adventurous.
I grew up thinking I was underprivileged. My parents didnât drive me to the tennis court or to real ski resorts, never mind coaching/lessons. I had hand-me-down and discount bicycles until I was 24. And I paid for my first 100 hours of flight time with 200 hours of bartered labor. Flash forward 50+ years and I am still vigorously doing all of these âhobbiesâ (a real loaded word). Why? Because I love doing them. I love the preparation, the winning/losing, and I have not been discouraged by challenges or setbacks (plenty of both).
Yes, Kevin, young people seem to have lost the joy of doing. I believe that modern media technology is responsible for making them dull, worried spectators.
Upon reflection, I am enjoying a highly privileged life, with experiences and relationships to show for it. And rather than bemoan what is wrong with the world, I have dedicated myself to sharing my joy in the hope that it inspires some kid to put down their @#$% phone.
Iâm almost half-way into my seventh decade on earth, with six decades of flying above it. I have no advice to give the youngâuns that they will heed, but that doesnât stop me. What I tell them is that Life has a huge belly-laugh at your plans, as it constantly closes the doors you thought were open, and cracks ajar others in your periphery.
As a teen, it seems like you have dozens of viable life-paths, but the one thing you can count on is that whatever path you are the most passionate about at that age, it ainât likely to be one of them. So use your peripheral vision, and donât be afraid to explore some of your less-obvious alternative interests.
Then, when you get into your twenties and think you have a pretty good handle on your life-path/career, remember this: Never take the thing that you love to do the most, and try to make big money out of it. Itâs a trap: at some point, your passion will become a job, but now you are making too much money (or owe too much money) to change direction.
Far better to derive an income out of something that you Really Like To Do, and would be willing to do it for long enough to amass a comfortable nest-egg. Then use that to fund your true passion. And should that passion wane, you are free to pursue a different one.
I canât claim that the above advice is original. It was what my sainted grandmother told me when I was in high school. I wanted to fly helicopters so bad that I planned to let Uncle Sam teach me (for free!) instead of going to college. In the late 60âs. (She kept up on current events better than I did back then.) So I went to university, got out with the credentials to do something I âlikedâ to do that paid pretty well, and bought an airplane and a helicopter. And now I have a lot of friends who are ex-commercial pilots.
As you climb that corporate ladder just check that itâs leaning on the right wall. Go into plumbing. All you need to know is that all youâre customers are ⌠and the gooey stuff goes downhill. Iâm not sure if any of them do housecalls any more. Youâll be able to buy a nice fourplacer with youâre pettycash.
Iâve always believed that young people should pursue some bizarre dream that goes outside of their comfort zone and home state.
Because for the rest of your often-dull life, you can always take five seconds to close your eyes and think, âI did that.â It makes you feel good to pause and remember.
I fear that kind of adventurousness is going away in our society.
These days, kids bite their fingernails at going away to college, even though colleges coddle their students a thousand times more than when Kevin and I were kids.
So. . . going away to college is not a super adventure, but it is all the adventure millions of kids ever get. Your parents arenât there, so itâs like independence with training wheels.
But many people canât go away to college, or donât want to. Or it isnât enough.
My wife spread her wings by spending a year on a pig farm on the Danish island of Fyn as an exchange student. My daughter spent part of her studies as a college student deep in the heart of tourist-free Mexico, and then did part of her veterinary studies in the Moroccan city of Fez. (Look up American Fonduk. Fascinating veterinary hospital.) I took my bicycle on a transcontinental trip. That had been an itch I just had to scratch.
I have a young friend whose life was limited to his assembly line job and going hunting. I urged him to join the army and see the world. He didnât do it. I later realized that he held back because he needed to take care of his disabled parents. There are millions of people like him, who donât get to do anything outlandish, and if the military isnât for you, then you donât really have many other options â certainly not structured options.
Said daughter, now in her 30s, lashes out at the limitations of life every few years. A few years ago, she decided to hike the Timberline Trail around Mt. Hood. Normal people do it in five days. She took three days, and the marathon runner who accompanied her said it was the hardest thing sheâd ever done.
Oh, and . . . I got my private ticket in 1987 and logged 180 hours. I can always close my eyes and think, âI did that.â And dream of taking my parchment logbook down to the FBO for a redo.
I also wanted to go the military route to get my pilots license. However, due to the asthma, i was disqualified for any branch of service. Scratch that idea. Then i met up with a group of guys that had WW2 era aircraft. Too many aircraft, not enough pilots, and they made me a deal. Get my ticket, and then they would train me on the tail dragger. Sweet! However, my flight lessons were fraught with set backs, controversy, and drama. It took me 4 years to eventually get my license. In those 4 years, my group imploded and ceased to exist. So now i just fly for fun, hobby, recreation, and to keep my sanity. Still cheating death after all these years. )
Young people arenât entirely to blame for their lack of interest in aviation, though. All of the fences and cameras and security can make GA airports seem almost as unwelcoming as a commercial airport. And then once a few of them get over that unwelcoming imposition and look in to starting flight training, they learn how much it costs and potentially limited options of aircraft availability. But if that doesnât discourage them, they then learn about all of the various ways they can lose their flying privileges through accidental airspace or TFR busts, or faceless doctors second-guessing their medical status.
It is a fun and rewarding hobby, but the barriers to entry are high and seem to be getting higher all the time, so itâs no wonder âkids these daysâ choose other more-easily-obtainable hobbies or careers.
I guess Iâm somewhat of an aberration. For reasons I still donât understand, Iâve wanted to fly since I was three years old. I didnât know anyone who flew, nor did I have that âwowâ moment at an airport fence. It was just something that was always in me.
When I was 14, I bought a copy of Sublogicâs Flight Simulator II for the Atari 800 and literally ran home from school to play it. I was hooked. I decided right then I would become a pilot. But how? My parents were teaching for the Department of Defense School system in Italy. GA was cost-prohibitive and not widely available there. But my parents knew a couple of a couple of Air Force pilots who were stationed on the base. I spoke with them and they laid out the path to my eighth-grade self. All I had to do was walk it - get good grades from this point on, get involved in high school sports, get involved in extra-curricular activities, and stay out of trouble. Earn an ROTC scholarship so the Air Force will pay for college. And go to a regular university. âIf you like the movie Animal House kid, you donât want to go to the Academyâ. Graduate college on time, and go to pilot training.
So I walked the path. I hated the pointless ROTC marching as it had nothing to do with being a good officer and even less to do with flying an airplane. But I sucked it up and kept moving forward - eyes on the prize. I became an Air Force pilot shortly after my 24th birthday and flew in the Air Force for 20 years. I had some amazing adventures and served with some of the best people you could ever know.
Then I became an airline pilot and am now in the left seat of a B-777 flying all over the world and having adventures in Paris, Shanghai, Singapore, and Osaka. I still love it. And the pay and time off give me the opportunity to own a Cessna.
When I can, I fly Pilots 'N Paws flights and participate in the Young Eagles program and various Open House events at my local airport to inspire the next generation. A goal-driven, narrow path has worked out very well for me. I wouldnât change a thing.
Jonathan Livingston Seagull, where are you now?
Home. Iâm still based at 3N6.
From Jonathan Livingston Seagull 2 -The Final Chapter
âThe worm taunted me from his perceived refuge on the centerline of Runway 36R at DFW. As I swooped in quietly he never saw me. Soon I was rewarded with not one, not two but three spotlights to recognize and reward my hunting prowess.
Oh, wait, itâs just a French fry.
OH SHIâ!!!â
Hereâs my take, shaped by sixty years in aviation, some hard-earned perspective, and a whole lot of gratitude for the folks who opened the gate for me.
I served in the military, came home, and used the GI Bill to earn my ratings and get a fresh start. That bill wasnât charity, it was earned, and it gave me a real shot at chasing a dream Iâd carried since I was a kidâbecoming a pilot.
And I did. I washed airplanes, made good friends, and learned to love everything about flying. I taught, flew, raised a family, and passed that dream on to others. I didnât do it alone. There were mentors, there was a community, and there was space to learn, to fail, and to keep going. That was 60 years ago.
Today itâs a different world. The cost of flight training is through the roof, the path feels narrow and rigid, and a lot of young people donât have anyone in their corner. Not many are pointing them toward scholarships or saying, âYou can do this, and weâll help.â That kind of encouragement really matters.
Thatâs why I helped start and supported a youth aviation education program, a nonprofit that offered free flight lessons, ground school, medicals, and mentorship. No cost, no strings. Just a way to give others the kind of chance I had.
So when I hear people say, âThese kids donât want it enough,â I shake my head. Some of them want it badly, they just donât know where to start. The gates are locked, the costs are crushing, and it can all feel out of reach.
But hereâs the good news. The spark is still out there. You can see it in Young Eagles flights, in wide-eyed first-timers, and in CFIs and volunteers who care enough to lift someone up. What we need now is more of that. More outreach, more mentors, more folks willing to say, âYeah, come on in, weâll show you the way.â
Aviation still has a bright future, but it needs more than passion. It needs access, it needs support, and it needs people who are willing to walk alongside the next generation. The dream is still alive. We just need to make sure the airport stays open.
I donât actively encourage an airline career for young people. There are plenty of ads and the lure of a paycheck to do that, they donât need my help. But there are plenty of other careers out there in aviation, not the least of which is humanitarian and mission aviation. If the flight decks of military and airlines are hard to fill, more so are the ones in Caravans and Kodiaks flying in remote locations with little infrastructure and you have to raise your own support. I am humbled by those who choose, in the prime of their lives, to go through the flight, maintenance and theological training to use aviation to serve their fellow man.
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