I'd dreamed about this for years, and it was finally happening.

After weeks of researching Bay Area flight schools, I picked up the phone, called California Airways at KHWD, and scheduled my discovery flight.

Days after my 19th birthday, my parents drove me to Hayward Executive Airport. My mom, terrified of small planes because of crashes on the news, was anxious, whereas my dad gladly accepted the offer to sit in the back of the clapped-out 1960 C172.

As my instructor walked me through the preflight, I started overthinking everything. What if I only liked the idea of being a pilot? What if I didn't actually like flying?

Then I sat in the left seat.

I put on those old, clunky David Clark green headsets that every pilot knows. Learned to use the rudder pedals to taxi. My instructor let me do everything, even the takeoff and landing (until he had to save the landing gear).

Looking down at the city from 3,000 feet was one of those moments I'll never forget. My dad took pictures the whole time. I still look back at them.

I knew right then: I was going to do this.

Three months later, I've logged 29.8 hours. First solo around the pattern. First solo cross-country. Many mistakes.

If you're thinking about that first discovery flight, just know: everyone struggles. Everyone has that landing they want to forget. Everyone embarrasses themselves on frequency with Southwest jets listening in.

But we all keep coming back.

If you read this, feel free to reply and I’d love to have a conversation with you!

Fly safe,
Gabe