Ode to the Toaster

The Toaster at Big Bend

Several years ago when I began my flight training, I didn't quite realize what I was getting into. It was the beginning or a love-hate relationship. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed flying in light GA aircraft. I still do, as a matter of fact. But I can't deny that zooming around at .75 Mach, at 35,000 feet, with beverage/ snack service, and most importantly, heating and A/C, is a great gig. But I do often miss the days of flight in dad's little "puddle-jumper."

Those who know me well, know that I am usually hot. No, not like " OMG, look at that hunk over there! He's sooooo hot." Nah. More like, going for walks or runs in shorts and a light t-shirt when it's 35 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside. And it not bothering me too much. Or having someone ask if I have a fever (when I don't) because my skin feels hot. Which is why when it's, say, 78 degrees, I'm already sweating and turning the A/C down. 

Why is all this important? Well, for those of you who have never flown in Texas.... in the summer.... in a small trainer airplane.... then you just won't understand. For those of you who have, you are probably cringing and yet, smiling at this very moment, because you know what that can be like. You see, in Houston during the summer, the weather can be described in pretty much one word: HOT! With the highs frequenting 105 degrees and lows usually still around 90 degrees, even at night, and a relative humidity that makes the thought of eating soup unbearable for a good 3-4 months (since you have to swim to work every day), flight training becomes a whole new challenge. With all of the constant heat to supply energy into the air, the weather also becomes quite predictable. Low clouds in the early morning, which form into cumulus clouds and slowly raise to about 2000-4000 feet by mid afternoon and then become thunderstorms right over the metroplex until dusk. Then the clouds start to fade, leaving a beautiful sunset and smooth skies at night. The issue with this is that during initial training, you don't fly in the clouds and sometimes can't even take off if they aren't high enough. And when you do finally get in the air, you're typically below the clouds. If you are unfamiliar, try to imagine that as a kid, while playing hide-n-seek, you find the best hiding spot ever. The dryer! So you wittingly climb in, all content with yourself, and close the door and daydream of how the other kids will declare you "best hider ever!" At least until the dryer is kicked on in tumble mode and you end up being beaten to a pulp for an hour all while your scrunched into a small metal tube with the temperature somewhere around 130 degrees or higher. Got that picture? Ok. That's pretty much the experience. Only the small metal tube is a C-152, C-172, or similar sized Piper aircraft. You almost had to be a contortionist to fit into the cockpit (at least for us 6' or taller folk). And if you think that the 130 degrees is an exaggeration, consider that during one of my summers in College Station, a little northwest of Houston, the ramp temperatures were measured at about 135 degrees, with the runway at about 160 degrees! You could literally hear your shoes sizzle with each step on the hotter days. Coupled with the fact that the persons getting into the aircraft are easily compared with packed sardines, it made for very warm flights. Add in the south Texas summer day turbulence, and ta-dah, you're got the recipe for fun times. Miserably hot and bumpy fun times. 

Even though it's tough flying and hot, there's just nothing quite like it. And it's addicting. It's why, even after all the hot, bumpy, and even sometimes frightening days in those planes, I still have a fondness for them. Especially for "the flying toaster." Over the years, there have been many nicknames for the small GA aircraft that frequent the skies: the "Aerosplat" (C-152 Aeobat), the "Chickenhawk" (C-172 Skyhawk), the "Gutless" (C-172 RG Cutless), the "doctor killer" (Beechcraft Bonanza), the "Scarrow" (PA28R Arrow), and the aforementioned general name "Puddle-jumper." Each of these earned through trials and the general lack of sufficient engine power to get out of sticky situations. But the "Toaster" has a somewhat different origin. Throughout my training and subsequent flights of leisure, dad's C-172 always seemed to be able to do more than the other similar models. It was just like "The Little Engine that Could" or  more fittingly, "The Brave Little Toaster." It always seemed to help me out of tight spots and never quit. But just like most other small GA aircraft, it had no A/C. So it was always hot inside; like a toaster. A small, metal box which you generally came out of a shade or two darker (and possibly about 5 pounds lighter, due to the water weight lost). But I've had some of the greatest experiences of my career, even maybe of my life in that small aircraft. Like my first solo, my first long solo cross-country, the trip that included my first single pilot IFR ILS down to just above minimums, the camping trip out to Big Bend with my wife and our dog, our trips all over Texas during college, winning my first flour bombing contest at the local fly-in, and many, many more. It's funny how an inanimate object could hold such an important place in ones heart. And this one has definitely cemented itself firmly into my memories. So our name is not one of insult or disdain from the short comings of the aircraft, like so many others. It is more of an affectionate name, like one would give to their pet (unless you hate your pet). We love that plane and the memories we've gained through its use. And to us, it will always be our "Little Flying Toaster."