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Flying Solo
I could feel cold air brush gently against my face, my nose was almost numb. The breeze followed the contours of my cheeks then it dissipated at the edge of the snug, foam, interior, of the helmet hugging my head. I pulled down the visor, feeling confident the machine was pointing into the wind, and ready for our descent into the field.
"Ease down the throttle," said Martin.
I knew what to do; I had heard it a thousand times; I was confident, and ambitious. The engine became quiet, the sound of the air whistled by, and the ground rushed up towards us. My eyes remain fixed staring ahead, and when the wheels were only inches from the ground, I flared the wing by pushing the control bar forward, touch- down!
My mind kept thrusting back to earlier that day. The sun was shining; it felt warm on my face. I put the wing together, attached it to the trike via the hang bolt, and went around the machine completing the Pre-flight checks. Then a chap, I hadn’t met before, came over to talk.
He squatted next to me and introduced himself. “Alright, mate,” he said.
“Alright,” I replied, “how you doin’?”
“Yes, I’m good. Have you just bought it?”
“Yes, I got it from Martin.” The man huffed a bit. I knew what he was saying. “I thought it best; he tests ‘em out for yer when you buy from him.”
“I know, a bit on the expensive side though.”
“Can’t put a price on yer safety,” I told him.
“I know... so you thinking you’re going solo soon?”
“Yeah, I hope so anyway. Have you gone solo yet?
“Yes, quite some time ago. The problem is getting good enough weather...How many hours have you done?
“Ten,” I told him.
“Well, you need to be asking him when you can go solo.”
“Narr, he’ll tell me when I’m ready.”
“Sure he will.”
“What do you mean?”
"The thing about Martin," he said, "is that he'll try to screw you for every penny."
"Get away wi’ yer,” I replied shocked. Right from the beginning, I trusted Martin with my life. We had a bond. This was bullshit.
“I’m telling you, he will! Think about it, the longer he keeps you from going solo, the more money he makes."
"No way, I can't see that, but, hey, thanks for the advice." I just wanted him to go away. I was feeling pretty uncomfortable, but you know when someone plants something in your head and you just didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t like him for that. On the other hand, I knew he was only trying to do me a favour. Some favour.
Martin always came across as confident, assertive, dogmatic, clear and precise, but sometimes it was to such a degree, he was overwhelming, overpowering. I had put up with it for weeks, months. I didn’t like him for it, but I trusted him implicitly.
Finally summoning up the courage; my stomach was nervous, like I was asking a girl for a first date. I was fearful of rejection, but forced the words through my lips. I’d kick myself if I didn’t and after what I’d been told, what choice did I have? O well, here we go. “Martin, do you think I can go solo today?" My voice sounded sheepish and I was annoyed for not being able to control that.
