We headed northeast to do some upper air work.
My instructor and I were hummin' along over Trout Lake. (one of thousands of Trout Lakes in Canada) Hell, if I ever am rich enough to put a pool in the back yard, I'll name it Trout Lake. Mr. Instructor thought I was doing a great job maintaining my heading within 20 degrees. Well, that's was my take on his rolling eyes of approval.
“OK teach, I mean 'Sir', let's turn and burn!” I said. To which he shook his head in admiration.
I yanked the power. “This'll be a stall!” Then I reefed back on the stick of the Czech Dream. The ground disappeared as my instructor grabbed the stick, trying to force it forward (to simulate a plane out of trim, I'm sure) When he said, in a mock panicked, “I HAVE CONTROL!” I knew he was up to his old tricks.
Now I had two hands on the stick, yanking back with all of my might to outsmart the zealous teacher. And sure enough, there's the stall warning horn. Just as planned. I glanced over at him. He sure was sweaty. A glance at the outside air temperature read 15 degrees, and I know the heat was off. Dude must have a gland problem, I thought. Sure is nice to know Sault College doesn't discriminate during the hiring practice.
“I HAVE CONTROL!!” I heard screeching in my David Clarks. WTF?!?! There's no way Sault Tower has the technology to take control of MY Zlin. I could think of nothing else, but the threat of terrorists with a remote control system and their Al Qaeda evilness powering the controls of my plane. That was it! That was why the controls were so heavy!
I immediately reached over to the transponder and dialed in 7500. Let's light up them ATC screens. I'm clearly out of control, and I need help. But was this just a Sault College training exercise? It was still nuts flying this plane. Even my instructor was wrestling with the controls! The terrorists put us into a spin, and the teacher was screaming.
I don't know why they hire guys like that. If there's one thing I know as a student pilot, it's this: Look cool, and fly cool. That's what all those air force guys do.
My instructor and I were on the same page on this one. We jammed opposite rudder, and recovered. I scanned his face when it was all done, and the sweat was still there. Obviously a medical emergency, so I dialed up 7700 on the transponder, and banked her hard to get back to CYAM.
He started to freak out at that point. I knew we'd better get back to the airport. He was talking crazy. Stuff like, “They don't pay me enough for this sh*t!!!” and “You f*cking retard!! What the F*ck are you doing?!?!” He eventually calmed down, and fiddled with the transponder. I figured, “Hey, let him do what he wants- as long as it doesn't compromise the safety of my flight.”
On the way back, I think we flew out of the terrorists' radio reception range, because the plane handled like a dream.
I let my instructor land the plane that day, because he said he needed some right seat practice. I also spaced out, and let him do all the radio work- on the ground. He was talking a mile a minute to tower, and ground, I think, then we saw some fighter jets do a flyby. I guess they were on their way to an air show or something.
Flying is fun, just be vigilant.
-istp
