Kansas Twilight StormCopyright 2007, V1VrV2
I’ve noticed a fascinating fact. The further into my aviation career I get… and the more advanced-technology aircraft I get to fly… and the higher and faster I travel… and the more complex the airspace I must traverse… and the more complicated the procedures I must learn -- the more I’m attracted to “simple, low, and slow.” Perhaps the constant, looming threats of more government regulations, fees, taxes and other evils have given me an increased appreciation for the opportunities I have to climb into a Cub or similar airplane and go sightseeing for an hour over the rolling Midwest farmland, with the door down and the vague smell of hay drifting up to my not-so-lofty altitude.
As I cruise slowly though the lowest reaches of the atmosphere, burning 4 gallons of gas per hour, in nobody’s way, I wonder at the intransigence of a system and a government that will undoubtedly seek to one day equate this minor activity with that of a major airline or a business jet operation. Even as I enjoy the elevated view of a red-painted barn glowing in the bright rays of sunset, lately I’ve have to fight interfering thoughts. Distress, mostly. Partially, it’s anger at how the activity I most love and cherish is being dismantled. But perhaps my anger is a bit misdirected. Maybe I should blame myself for wearing rose-colored glasses for so long.
It was probably the naiveté of youth that caused me to miss the negative aspects of a career in aviation. The world of flight, to me, was always an unlimited world. Opportunities abounded, and there didn’t seem to be any real threat involved in choosing aviation as a career. Oh, sure – in the 1970s and 1980s, I read about a few airlines going out of business now and then, and new regs and Airworthiness Directives that seemed to spark lots of letters to the editor in the pages of Flying magazine. But I never felt like these threats were of such a serious nature that they threatened the entire industry. I never felt like there was such a hugely concentrated effort by lawmakers and special-interest groups to tax, restrict, and eventually ground certain facets of General Aviation. Until lately.
Are they aiming to restrict my evening J-3 flights? Probably not. But the manner in which the latest bills are being stuffed through the legislative process, with nary a clue as to their eventual impacts on the aviation industry, tells me we’re dealing with lawmakers of a different breed than we’ve seen before. They’re using a different recipe for getting what they desire than I’ve seen before. I hope they're as interested in their political careers, and the threat of losing the support of their constituency, as previous generations of politicians are, because I’ve been sending several letters per week to let them know how I feel.
If you're a pilot, a mechanic, an airplane owner, a business person, or just a dreamer and airplane lover, I believe time is short. I’m asking you to write a couple of letters. You don’t have to write them yourself. They're already written. Go to the Alliance for Aviation Across America website, and click on a few links. They’ll do all the work of sending an email to your Senators and Representatives for you. Or, you can print the pre-addressed letters and mail them with a stamp.
I am an optimist. I have a tough time imagining U.S. general aviation taking the disasterous form it has taken in Europe. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, watch some of the videos produced by the AOPA.) But I'm not taking any chances. I'm striking back with as much written effort as I can muster, by flooding my lawmakers' in-boxes. You should, too.
In the mean time, I’m going flying.
