About 2/3 of the way through ground school, it became obvious that it was time to get my butt into a plane and get some practical experience. I've always been booksmart. Learning how stuff works has never been a problem for me. But one can read all the books in the world on how to play golf and never actually be able to hit the ball off the tee. The theoretical needed to become practical.
Between then and my first lesson, my doorbell chimed with a seemingly never-ending parade of parcels from Amazon to fill out my flight gear. I passed on the aviator sunglasses, though somewhere in my basement I have my grandfather’s aviators he wore when he flew. Sadly he died just after I was born so I never had the chance to fly with him. But like a giddy schoolboy, I had everything I needed and probably then some. (And probably not a lot of practical stuff that I should have, but I’ll worry about that later, though I should probably toss my old Leatherman into the bag. Tools are good things to have.)
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