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It was a beautiful Saturday morning in North Georgia, a bit crisp (for we Southerners) at 0 degrees Centigrade as I performed my 8:30 a.m. pre-flight. But I was dressed warmly. Once airborne the little Cessna 152's heat vent kept most of the chill outside the tiny cabin.

Eric, my instructor, who understandably stayed indoors during the pre-flight, snuggled into the right seat told me to take off and handle the departure and 10-minute flight to the practice area myself. He was intent on staying warm.

The only clouds in the sky were at 12,000 feet and officially "broken Cirrus." It was crisp and clear. Visibility forever. Passing through 2,000 feet on my way to 3,500, I left Cobb County's McCollum Field and its Class D airspace behind.

I was on my way to becoming a Private Pilot, and after hours of doing nothing but flying the pattern in preparation for my first solo, I was eager to get out into the countryside again. This is why I took up flying in the first place, to be able to go places and see things, rather than go around and around in the pattern.

Once level at 3,500, I could see downtown Atlanta 30 miles away to my right, Stone Mountain off to the Southeast, beautiful Lake Allatoona on my left, to the north, historic Kennesaw Mountain was behind me, and the southern end of the Appalachians even further to the northeast. It was glorious, and fun!

The winds were so light out of the northwest that I really could fly with my thumb and forefinger, unusual in a 152 that bumps if someone on the ground sneezes a mile away. For six or seven minutes, I did lots of scanning for scenery, er, ah, I mean traffic. I threaded the needle, just north of Sand Mountain and just south of Air Acres, a 1,200-foot grass strip we use as an emergency field in the practice area.

Then the air-gazing abruptly ended. Eric pulled the throttle and announced, "You just lost your engine."

After about an hour of rust-eliminating simulated emergencies and stalls, Eric told me to turn back towards McCollom. After pulling into the parking spot, Eric started to get out and told me, "No, you stay. The plane is yours. Just relax, go out and have a little fun."

Oh joy! I was so happy I even negotiated a bit. "Do I have to go out to the practice area? Can I go out west?" "Out west" is where I live.

"O.K.," he agreed, "but if you bust any airspace it's your problem, not mine, and you have to watch for military aircraft out there."

This was going to be great! Finally, I can just go out and look at the scenery, find the church I pastored for 10 years before I was transferred to another one, circle around the neighborhoods I know so well, and really enjoy the scenery.

Then, I made my first serious mistake.

As Eric was about to walk away, I said, "I'll go in with you, I need to use the restroom."

Once inside the training center, I made my second serious mistake of the day. Being a dutiful husband, I decided I should call my wife and tell her I would be a little longer and might even be over the house in a little while because Eric had, "Finally turned me loose."

Of course, you know the rest. It was Saturday morning and I already had "wasted" two hours. I was needed at home for a backlog of chores.

Ah, well. As I went back out and secured the little 152, Eric saw my downcast. He had heard the call, and said, "You're a pilot now. You can come out and fly anytime you want to." And that was all I needed to hear.

A little fun occasionally is what it's all about! It's what justifies all the work. I'll see you in the air. I'll be the one picking you up against the background scenery!

Article by Warren B. Causey; Send him an email