First Solo

by Captain Wayne (Rusty) Baker

 “Flying alone! Nothing gives such a sense of mastery over mechanism, mastery indeed over space, time, and life itself, as this.” 

Cecil Lewis

Less than two months from the day of my first lesson, I soloed.

I remember the excitement I felt when my instructor, Ed Smith told me that he was getting out of the airplane, that I was going to take it around the pattern all on my own. It was, as they say, a defining moment. “Either you define the moment, or the moment defines you.” There have been many such moments in my life since, but this was one of the big ones.

I taxied the Cherokee 140, N1409T, out to the run-up pad, knees shaking just a bit. “Okay, Zero Nine Tango,” I said, “It’s just you and me.” I took the runway, pushed up the throttle and just like that I was on my way.

Once airborne, it occurred to me that there was no turning back. I recalled the words of Earl Smith, “Takeoffs are optional. Landings are mandatory.”

I turned crosswind, climbed to 800 feet above the ground, turned downwind, checked carburetor heat, put out a notch of flaps and throttled back. Turning base leg, I added the second notch of flaps, judged my descent path to be about right, then turned final.

Glide path appeared just a bit low, so I added a couple hundred rpm and put out the third and final notch of flaps. The landing was a good one, if I say so myself. I turned off the runway and taxied to the ramp, grinning from ear to ear.

It was Friday, the 13th of July, 1973. Later that same day my younger brother Jim pitched a no-hitter for his summer league team. For the Baker boys, Friday the thirteenth was not unlucky.