Last night the flight went very well. We were 10 minutes early departing Indy. The thunderstorms were north of our flight path. We had the N721RW airplane again. It has bigger engines with 24 percent more thrust. That makes it climb higher sooner which compensates for the lower fuel burn of the smaller engines. Jet engines burn a lot more fuel at lower altitudes. Airplanes are like cars; when was the last time you had a car with too much power?
This LAX-IND run is arguably the best schedule at my company. I fly one four-hour leg per night, spend a couple hours before and after getting ready and getting finished. Eighty percent of the flying in my company puts you on duty over 12 hours and sitting in the airplane over 7 hours in each 24 hour period. I see some Fraysters are appalled at the lack of sleep. That really only happens on the first day and the last day. And if you're wondering why I haven't moved my base to reduce the commute, the answer is that I have been based in nine cities in the last four and a half years. Would you move your family from paradise to a city and move every six months thereafter? Not when you can commute. Note that most major airlines are much more stable than this, but even those pilots move bases occasionally.
Aviation is a place to meet lots of great people and see many places and wonderful scenes. It is a memory builder. Thinking back, some memories jump out immediately: three engine failures in a couple months in a ratty old Chieftain, in the mountains, at night, in weather, alone. An electrical fire in another Chieftain on the ground. Preflighting a 500 Commander at 40 below zero in Havre, Mont. The fact that four years later a United captain at JFK in New York told me he had had an engine fail in that same airplane 10 years before. Watching a tug driver in Paris who got excited and jumped out of the tug when the tow bar fell off; the tug continued rolling toward the airplane. Sunrises and sunsets unmatchable from the ground. Parking my old dirt-strip, cow-manure covered C-182 between a Rolls Royce and a Gulfstream jet in Denver. The smell of the pines in Skagway, Alaska, before a 4 a.m. commuter flight. Overshooting a landing on a frozen hay meadow in my brother-in-law's Super Cub with him and his 50-pound Labrador in the back and watching my brother run for cover behind his pickup as we slid up to the fence next to it. Loading a patient with a broken back on an air-ambulance flight and realizing she was one of my friends. Later loading a screaming, blood-covered man in the air ambulance and then feeling bad when we hit turbulence. Hoisting beers with colleagues in Alaska, the lower 48, Mexico, and all over Europe. One of the best parts was looking up at a gorgeous smile from the woman on the ladder fueling my airplane, and later marrying her. She is also a pilot.
I have a 182 at home, and I love the freedom of flying in that. Commercial flying, on the other hand, is very structured. But it still has all the alluring moments, the sunsets and sunrises, the occasional near-perfect flight, etc.
I can't wait to go home to my family. Just two days to go before catching up on the other side of my life. I talked to my wife yesterday. Her father is in tough shape but progressing. He did walk around the hospital yesterday. Some of the family have gone home after two weeks away from their jobs. The nurse and the physician's assistant are staying. It is always a strain to go away to work. I miss seeing the black bear, moose, and elk that hang around the mountains near my home. It is quiet there and dark at night. I look forward to taking a five-day pack trip on horseback into the Wind Rivers later in the summer. It is a good way to balance out the bustling cities and noisy airplanes.
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