In 1971, when I was 16 years old, I had learned to solo a Cessna 150. My dad was a pilot, so I had been flying with him for years. Then came the time for the mandatory 100 mile solo, which I did from Morristown, NJ to Lancaster, PA (109 miles, to be exact.) As the driving age in New Jersey was 17, I needed my Mom to give me a ride to Morristown airport, so I could fly round trip to Lancaster on my own. And of course, then I needed a ride home.
My flying days came to an end in 1974 when I got hurt and sustained a spinal cord injury. I later explored hand controls for flying, but never found it as much fun, and I mostly gave up flying. My last entry in my log book was from 1978, where I tried out a hand control. Then I saw a movie recently where the main character decides that he wants to get his pilot's license. The movie ends with him getting in the plane with his girlfriend, and flying into the sunset. It triggered me. I called East Coast Aero at Hanscom field, and booked a flight with an instructor. I wanted to see what I remembered, now 32 years later. I told him I also wanted to try an instrument landing (I had an instrument rating.) We went up, and did some flight maneuvers, and I was pretty good at that. We then worked on the ILS landing, and I was definitely rusty, but maybe passable. But what struck me was that so much of the language and terminology was different. What we called "radar advisories" was now "flight following". What we called a TCA or Terminal Control Area is now something different that I can't remember. The plane was nice and old, and the instruments were from my days. That made me feel good. No "glass cockpit", no GPS or other newfangled stuff in this 747! It was a blast. But I decided that I was happy to stay in the right seat. I'm a pretty skilled co-pilot, so I'm game to go up with anyone who wants to take to the skies.