What Your Toes Might Tell You
It was one of those days where the weather was okay, but just bad enough to keep you second-guessing.
I know you’ve been there.
Two days earlier, a tropical storm had blown through, and the airport ramp was sweltering under the hot humidity and blanket of clouds left behind by the cyclone.
My walk-around included an extra item, repeated several times, that was not on the checklist: looking up at the sky.
Needless to say, the weather was a distraction.
A mobile phone radar check gave me confidence, despite the dark color above, so I gave myself the green light and got in the left seat, only to watch sprinkles speckle the windscreen seconds later.
But it quickly stopped, and so I went.
After start-up, I pushed the throttle and my rented Cessna 172 rolled out of its parking spot. Kind of.
As I tapped on the left toe brake to nudge the plane left onto the taxiway, it fought back and stayed straight.
Nothing a little extra power couldn’t fix. So after clearance, ground, and tower, I taxied into position with some extra effort in order to put the Skyhawk on the centerline.
I knew something wasn’t right, but couldn’t put my finger on what my toes were telling me.
And just as I thought about heading back in, the tower told me it was my turn.
So with 10,000 feet of pavement ahead of me, I decided to give it shot. If I couldn’t hold her straight, I’d stay on the ground.
The roll felt normal, perhaps a bit sluggish. But I convinced myself the 180 horses up front were simply fighting the thick air.
Straight as an arrow, 55 knots eventually came, and off I went.
The practice airport was just 10 minutes away, so in no time I was already thinking about what might happen if my steering problems persisted on touchdown.
I asked for the wider runway, and was ready for a quick go around as I began my gentle flare over a wet runway recently doused by a downpour.
As the wheels made contact, the plane seemed to grab the surface slightly, but noticeably. Just like driving your car through a puddle, I thought. All that watery friction is bound to quickly slow you down.
Two touch and goes later, with no major issues, it was time to return home with most of my concerns gone. The weather had held, the air was surprisingly smooth, and the landings were good.
I coaxed the Cessna into its parking spot, pulled the mixture, pondered what I should write on the discrepancy form back at the flight school, and glanced at my after-landing checklist.
Avionics off. Fuel left. Lights off. Parking brake on. Uh. Wait. Parking brake…
And then it hit me.
3 take offs. 3 landings. An hour on the Hobbs. All with the parking brake on!
I was instantly mad at myself. How did I miss the clues? Why did I never reach down and check that hidden handle below the yoke?
I was distracted. Focused on the weather. And lucky my mistake was minor.
Never again will I ignore what my toes might tell me.
