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Trial Lesson
Saving up like mad and patiently waiting for the next time I could fly was really hard. Two years of toil. Much had happened in my life. I changed my job, got married and bought a car for my lovely wife.
However my lust for flying never faltered and I often thought about getting lost with Barry over the fields around Burscough. It spurred me on to regularly put money away in a special savings account, my Microlight account. It could so easily have been squandered on other things, like living.
The sixth of April 1987 was a massive moment in my life. I was twenty four, the first time I sat front seat in a Microlight aircraft. The first time I sat where Barry had.
Martin’s field was a good, two hour drive from my house. North up the M6 then off to the west not far from Lancaster.
I rode down a narrow country lane, until eventually, on the left there was a big metal farmer’s gate and a sign, which read Microlight School.
It whined as I slowly pushed it back against the stone wall, and fastened it with a rope over a post. Riding carefully over a white stone and mud path, I wondered who would be down there and what sort of reception I’d get. It curved round gently to the left, toward a big, dark green, port-a-cabin at the far end of the field. On the right, a grass mound rose up as high as the cabin covered in grass. It ran the full length of the dirt track and I was soon to find out what was on the other side.
Beside the cabin, a big orange wind sock hung from a pole, flapping gently on the breeze.
After parking near the wooden flat roof hut, I climbed off my SUZUKI 250GST, filled with apprehension, and started up the steps.
Inside, the wall was dominated by a large map of the North West of England, and below it, a little old table with two battered chairs. On the door side was a large window, which looked out onto the field and below that, a stainless steel sink with dirty cups. Beside them, a gas bottle burner and kettle sat quiet and cold. Further in, a second door with a round wooden knob caught my eye. I tried turning it, but it was locked.
Odd... Martin told me to be here for ten. It’s five to and there’s no one around? I wasn’t expecting the place to be deserted. Outside two cars rested next to my bike then it struck me. He must be flying already.
A few minutes later, I heard the familiar hum of an engine. It could have been a go cart or a lawnmower, but when I went outside and looked up, the triangular shape of a Microlight wing, the size of a folded napkin, was crossing the field and veering off to the right, overhead.
I wonder; what he looks like? What will I say to him? Am I really going to fly today? The weather looks okay and somebody’s already up there. As the aircraft dropped lower into a circuit around the field, I sensed excitement and apprehension, at the idea of meeting new people and flying once more. It brought goose bumps up on my arms with a shudder.
The engine quieted, and the aircraft glided in toward the field, a red pod carrying two people, with white helmets, and above them, the wing’s red leading edge. The underside of the wing was red also and yellow with some big black letters. Poking out the back was what looked like an isosceles triangle tail held up by a wire running to a post on top of the wing, the kingpost.
The aircraft seemed to linger just above the grass for ages, then finally, and very gently, it touched down. The wheels gradually slowing, almost to a halt before the engine revved up again, and the pilot steered her over to where I stood.
