The first time I ever got off the ground, if I don't count tying a cape around my neck and jumping out of the hay-loft window of the barn, was in the front seat of a two seat WW II, army surplus training glider. That was when I was in the Boy Scouts, and a glider club in Grand Prairie, Texas was kind enough to waste a Saturday on us worthless kids.

After getting out of high school and getting a job, I immediately started taking flying lessons in a Piper Cub...not a J3, I think it was called a P11 Super Cub or something like that. Due to a shortage of time and money, I had to drop the lessons before soloing.

A few years after that I took some lessons in a Cessna 172. Again, had to drop the lessons due to lack of money.

I also took some lessons in sailplanes, which is even more expensive than regular airplanes, due to the "tow-fees". Was working lots of 90 hour weeks at about that time and just didn't have time for any hobbies. The bottom line is that I had many hours of instructions but just not enough at any one time to qualify to solo and obtain a license.

My first commercial flight was in 1964 when the army flew me and a bunch of other recruits from Dallas to Ft. Polk Louisiana on a Douglas DC 6. Not totally sure about that designation..but anyway it was a four engine, prop plane. Geez, the thing I remember most about that flight was watching the streams of black oil running down across the wings from each of the engines.

Never got a chance to fly on a Constellation, but I agree that it was one of the most beautiful planes ever built. If I am not mistaken President Eisenhower used a Constellation as Air Force One.

Oh, I forgot to mention...I did try hang gliding and broke my back on my first flight. That was also my last flight in a hang glider.

No matter how cynical you get...you just can't keep up.

I think it was in 1968 or 69,a short flight from Amsterdam to Zurich but very exciting.

my first time was 2001, I was shit scared but was hooked by touch down.

my first time was this year in august it was pretty ok..the first flight wasn't a big problem ..the second was...well..let's say..interesting not to say horrifying

My first flight was about 4 years ago from Charleroi to Rome, when we went to Italie for 10 days with school. I remember the pilot having some problems when we had to land in Rome, because of a thunderstorm.

Happy 2008 to everyone!

was my uncle's Cesna that he flew me in when I was 6 years old. He made me promise to never tell my mom all the shit he was doing in it. The first time I flew in a passenger plane was when I was 8 and we flew from New York to Florida.

"Do or do not - there is no try!" - Yoda

A few years ago I had occasion to fly from San Antonio to Atlanta with a group of fellow employees, one of which had never flown before and appeared to be terrified. I kept telling him that I did not like the sound of engine number three. Then on takeoff...when the landing gear folded up into the underside of the plane and made that loud thumping sound I told him that I had never heard an airplane make such a god-awful sound...."I think engine number three is about ready to blow." He nearly fainted. Ok, this is not a direct answer to the topic question, but it is the nostalgia channel, after all.

No matter how cynical you get...you just can't keep up.

hahahaha - so you fucked with the virgin flier....BRAVO!!! FUN STUFF...I flew from Birmingham to St. Louis back when American Airlines used to run prop planes there and I flew with this dude who had flown only once in his life and it was storming like crazy when we took off...we boarded and de-boarded three times before we finally actually took off and by the time we had gotten on the plane - he was so drunk - he couldn't even remember where we were going..I was worried they weren't going to let him on the plane and I told him before we got on fuck you if you think you're getting the window seat!!!

"Do or do not - there is no try!" - Yoda

I had an uncle that got his pilot's license on a bet. Then figured he may as well Get an aircraft since he had a licence. A nice twin engined eight seater. I can't remember the made. He was always into boats though. Built them. Raced them. High end stuff. Never actually left it. He did have money. He had a yacht berthed in the Bahamas. He's fly out there on weekends...stay and come home. Or lend it or rent it to others. He found it was time to bring it home for an overhaul. So he hired a friend to captain it. They, along with his friend's fiance. After a weekend...the finace and my uncle flew home. Only...didn't make it. Not a trace of them has ever been found. No wreckage...nothing. Their flight went by way of the Abaco Islands, heading to Jacksonville. Right through? Anyone? The Bermuda Triangle.

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"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and them misapplying the wrong remedies." --Groucho Marx

My first commercial flight on a prop plane was on a "Handley Page Dart Herald" with Eastern Provincial Airlines from Moncton, New Brunswick to Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. What was also interesting was that the wing was OVER the plane....see link for a pic:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Handley_Page_Dart_Herald

My second flight on a prop plane was with the Air Cadets, on board a Piper Commanche...see link for a pic:
http://www.steveweaver.com/planes/7476Y_e2.jpg

And my 3rd flight in a prop plane, also with the Air Cadets, was in a Lancaster, see link for pic:
http://www.fleetairarmarchive.net/aircraft/Lancaster_codeKMB_oversea.jpg

All subsequent flights have been in commercial jet airliners

Having yellow fever is not a crime

"Do or do not - there is no try!" - Yoda

No. That's up in the north-central part of Georgia.

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"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and them misapplying the wrong remedies." --Groucho Marx

I don't remember the first time I ever flew. I was maybe two years old, and my father flew us to Southern California to visit Disneyland in somebody's plane. Might have been his.

He used to take me with him sometimes when testing a plane he'd repaired, though usually we just went up and down the runway and didn't take off. He was an aircraft mechanic who specialized in old warbirds. I would have liked to go up in one of the old Stearmans at the airport, but I never got the chance.

First commercial flight I ever flew was some podunk airline from Billings, Montana to Missoula. I was 17. It was a tiny plane, sat about 20 people. We had a lot of turbulence. The other passengers were not amused by my laughing whenever the plane lurched.

- Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. (#20, Evil Overlord List) -

I used to be a hanger-bum. Would hang out at any small or large airport where fliers got together to swap stories, brags and lies. The best, "how I learned to fly" story was from an old geezer who had been through WWII as a pilot of some kind....I don't remember what he flew in the war but his interesting story took place in the late 1930's...and went something like this:

"I was working for a civilian contractor at an Army Air Corps base out in West Texas. I repaired engines. Our repair hangers were located about three miles from the test flight hangers. I would finish working on a plane and have to taxi it the three miles to where a pilot would test fly it around the traffic pattern once or twice before it was put back into regular service."

"The planes were tail-draggers of course and I hated that slow bumpy three mile taxi. I learned pretty quick that if I got the speed up a little bit and pushed forward on the stick that I could pick up the tail wheel and make the ride a lot smoother, quieter and faster."

"There were lots of times when I knew that the main wheels were not touching the runway, that made it even smoother and quieter. After a few months of that, I was going down the runway one day, the engine was running smoothly and said to myself, 'aw screw it...why not?' I pulled back on the stick and I was out of there. Took it for two laps around the traffic pattern...fell in love with flying instantly. I didn't have any problem talking the test pilots into letting me do their job for them. When it looked like war was on the way for sure, I quit the repair job and joined the Air Corps."

I realize this is a bit off topic, but it is still about flying. I was amazed by that story.

No matter how cynical you get...you just can't keep up.

Not that far off-topic. Neat story.

- Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. (#20, Evil Overlord List) -

Those of you who got your pilot's license, or at least attempted to learn this crude form of levitation, might recall that, in addition to your solo flight once or twice around the airport, you have to make a point to point cross country flight, then a short three point cross-country flight, followed by a long three point cross-country flight with each leg being more than a hundred miles with mandatory stops at each point to get your log book signed off.

So there I was.....flying my short three point cross-country route from Harrisburg, PA, to Hagerstown, MD, to Frederick, MD and back to Harrisburg's Olmsted Field. (I might have Hagerstown and Frederick backwards) The weather was nice and clear and, starting out at 5 PM, I expected to complete the entire route by about 8:30 in the evening. Nothing much happened on the Harrisburg to Hagerstown leg of the flight and got my log book signed with the notation of "Arrived Alive".

Taking off from Hagerstown, it felt like the engine was not developing enough power. So I stopped, turned off the runway, and went through the takeoff procedure again. Nothing seemed amiss.....the magnetos checked out, carburator heat was okay, mixture control worked okay, flaps cycled up and down, the plane still had two wings.....one on each side....so I tried again. The plane did take off but it felt awfully sluggish. I sort of hemmed-hawed over this while making my way over to Frederick. About the only thing that felt peculiar was that I had to keep the engine in the red zone just to be able to make it through one of the mountain gaps but, any landing is a good landing.....etc. Got my log book signed off in Frederick and now all I had to do was get back to Harrisburg. I figured I was going to write a short note to the flight service that the plane was not behaving as it should.

Climbing out of Frederick, I still had the same feeling that the plane just wasn't gaining altitude as fast as it should but it finally got up flight level....something. As soon as I reached altitude, I pulled the engine RPM back from the red zone. That is when the problem started. The engine started bucking and misfiring so badly it was shaking the whole plane. So back into the red zone I went where the engine appeared to run moderately smoothly. But now I started fighting the wind. As the sun set, the cold air rolling off the mountain ridges parallel to my route collided in the middle of the valley.....where I was flying....and the rising air currents were mercilessly buffeting the plane.

I tried everything to get that miserable crate to fly right. Tried deicing the carburator but all that got me was loss of power and the plane started losing altitude. So, it wasn't ice. Then I fiddled with the mixture control but all that got me was a loud backfiring that almost blew out the windows. I tried switching tanks....to no avail. I was eyeing Route 15 below me as a place for a possible emergency landing but by now darkness was rolling in and all I could see were the headlights of vehicles.....a pauper's choice. I finally got over the mountain ridge into the Susquehanna River valley and there, only a few miles away, was salvation at Olmsted Field. I told Olmsted tower that I was coming in fast because each time I tried to slow the engine down it threatened to tear itself apart or quit.

It was one of my better landings because I didn't know if I could nurse that pile of scrap iron back into the air again for a go-around in case I missed. As soon as I turned off the runway, I pulled the engine back to idle expecting it to quit. Nothing of the kind. The engine was purring as smooth as ever...or the way it was supposed to. So after getting cleared by Olmsted ground, I taxied the plane to its home location and tied it down.

The flight service was closed up tight for the night so I left a note on the clipboard that Cessna 914 GR (I think that was the number of the plane) was not running right.....or flying right....and that it should be checked. I followed this up with a telephone call and even a personal visit the very next morning. I was given a whole bunch of ho-hums about student pilots not knowing which side is up, ice accumulation, thermal inversions, flap effects, republican elections, and similar sundries.....in short, I was dismissed as not knowing the difference between my you know what and my you know who.

I was still seething about this a few days later when I showed up to do my long three point cross country flight that was to have taken me from Harrisburg to Caldwell, NJ, to Cape May, NJ and back home. I was surprised that I didn't see 914 GR on the flight line but I figured it must be out with another aspiring birdman....pardon me, birdperson. When I asked where the plane was, I was told by a rather sheepish desk type working there that it had to make an emergency landing at.....I forgot where.....because it had a hole in one of its pistons. How about that.....and I managed to bring it home.

Oh, yeah.....other than getting chewed out by Newark departure control, my three point long leg cross country flight was uneventful.....well.....I'm still here to write about it, ain't I?

Thank goodness! I thought there for a minute you were going to tell us that you flew the second and third leg of that trip with the parking brake still on.

No matter how cynical you get...you just can't keep up.

Or with the trailer still strapped to it?

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"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and them misapplying the wrong remedies." --Groucho Marx

@shifty....@texasagain......you had to be there to get the full humor of the situation. How I managed to keep my underwear clean is a mystery.....I guess things just naturally tightened up. Some time later I did a fair amount of flying with a guy I called Bad Winds Winston and had worse things happen; enough to fill a book.

I witnessed an almost-disaster involving the first solo flight of one of my good friends. He was soloing in a sailplane for the first time. The Piper tow plane got him towed just out past the end of the runway at about 200 feet altitude and suddenly gave him the "wave-off"...which is a wag of the wings back and forth a couple of times...and it means "I have mechanical problems, disconnect immediately." Most sailplane pilots fly a whole lifetime without ever getting a wave off. The Piper had blown its exhaust manifold loose..which wasn't a huge problem but it sounded awful and the pilot did not know what was causing all the increased noise. As he was supposed to do, my friend pulled the disconnect knob immediately...so there he was...at the wrong end of the runway without even close to enough altitude to go around the traffic pattern..flying over an area of scrub trees that were sure to severely damage the plane if he landed off-field. He managed to get the sailplane turned around 180 degrees and did a down wind landing on the runway. It was pretty fast and bumpy but there was no damage done to the plane. Probably would not have been a big deal to a really experienced pilot but a hell of a thing to happen to a guy on his first solo.

No matter how cynical you get...you just can't keep up.

Write one! I want to hear about "Bad Winds" Winston.

- Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. (#20, Evil Overlord List) -

It happens to be about a bean-cabbage-raisin bran casserole. You may not want to know.

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"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and them misapplying the wrong remedies." --Groucho Marx

- Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. (#20, Evil Overlord List) -

Don't look at me! I didn't invent the dish.

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"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and them misapplying the wrong remedies." --Groucho Marx

hm my mom said i was already using the plane the same year i was borned lol

The first time I flew with a plane was in the year 1998, I flew with my schoolclass to Malta!!!

Don't worry be happy! C u Sil :-)

@skrecok.....I wouldn't mind relating some of my stories when flying with Bad Winds Winston but I'm afraid they would get rather long and might offend the bolsheviks at the Supreme Soviet modboard with me taking up so much bandwidth.

Beg Pardon?

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"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it, misdiagnosing it and them misapplying the wrong remedies." --Groucho Marx

Actually all of the modboarders I know are either Republican or Libertarian. Not that I don't think it would be interesting to have a Communist there.

I wouldn't worry about long posts in your own channel, anyway. This is your own territory. Bore us all you want.

- Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. (#20, Evil Overlord List) -

@skrecok......don't take the Supreme Soviet to heart.....it is a humorous colloquialism that we sometimes use indicating autocratic....or bureaucratic behavior.

At the risk of bringing the wrath of the Modboard down on me, I will write up one of my experiences with Bad Winds.....check this space again tomorrow.

Be warned....it could get long and boring.