The Plane Truth
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"Why can't you take up golf?" I pleaded when my husband, Maury, announced he was going to learn to fly. Fly? First the red sports car, now this? Was this part of a man's "go-fast stage" of life? But the more I tried to talk him out of his newfound desire, the more set he was to try it.
I had a feeling this one would test our relationship. And all my pleadings were in vain.
Throughout his training, Maury urged me to take lessons. But I wasn't interested in riding in a small airplane, let alone piloting one.
I preferred tamer activities, such as water skiing in the alligator-infested lakes of Central Florida where we live. Of course, when I tried to learn to water ski, I broke a bone in my foot and sprained my neck. Bad knees prevented me from keeping up with him during snow skiing, and a near brush with drowning made scuba diving less than appealing.
But we wanted to find fun hobbies we could share. My pursuits of cross-stitch, gardening, and reading didn't lend themselves to drawing us closer as a couple. And Maury, who loved flying from day one, believed sincerely he'd found just the hobby for both of us to experience together.
"You should try it. It's really fun," he insisted. I responded that I don't appreciate being "should" upon. This hobby definitely wasn't love at first sight—for me.
A death-defying ride Several months later Maury earned his license and offered me a ride. My first impulse was to shout, "No way!" But I knew how much it meant to him, so I nervously accepted.
During our flight, he explained how safe the plane was and how stable it flew in an engine failure. Then—at 4,000 feet above an orange grove—I was sure I heard the engine stop.
Unaware that Maury had merely throttled back the engine, while he excitedly told me how many miles the plane would glide, I sucked air and stared at the panel of blinking lights, knobs, and dials.
This stunt provoked not only panic but severely uncharitable thoughts toward the man I loved and had trusted.
"Handling emergencies," he explained, "is part of the training."
"Start it up again now!" I screamed. This was not how I wanted to spend my final moments.
"It's okay. I have it under control," Maury soothed, manipulating the hateful controls. "Yeah, well, I don't," I yelled.
If hell had a theme-park this would be the featured ride, I thought.
The engine roared back to life and I resumed breathing. By the time we landed I'd calmed to seething fury. Maury was genuinely shocked that I hadn't enjoyed my first ride.
Apparently by simulating the worst-case scenario—engine failure—he hoped to prove there was nothing to fear. He explained that a similar demonstration had impressed him, so he assumed it would have the same effect on me. I explained that it made me want to beat him senseless.
Originally published in: Marriage Partnership, 2006, Summer, Page 34
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Average User Rating:
Christine Jacobson
I agree with your article 100%. I became a private pilot in 2003 and although I don't actively fly now I still share the love of aviation with my husband. Bob was so proud of me when I earned my certificate and it gave me a level of self confidence that I had never had before. It may not be all true but after flying and LANDING an airplane,solo, I feel like I can do anything!
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