Ignoring signs...?

And here's the final update on my quest for a local solo today. After class I went to the briefing room to see if there was a key for a plane there for me to take. And there was. Granted, it was 2214K and 2214K is a piece of junk, but by that point I was just happy to have my grubby hands on a key. So I went out to preflight 14K. Quarter of the way through my inspection, I opened the right side engine cowling to make sure there was oil and the P-lead was connected to the right magneto... And I heard a cling. That's not usually a good sound to hear during a preflight, and this instance was no exception. So I looked on the ground to see what, exactly, had just fallen off my plane, and I discover it's one of the pins that holds the cowling closed. The washer that holds the pin on the cowling cover, had mysteriously vanished and the pin had simply fallen off the moment some unsuspecting yutz (in this case, me) opened the cowling. My theory is that someone was responsible for the problem, then just closed the cowling back to leave it for the next guy (in this case, me) to deal with. Well, it worked like a charm. I took the pin to Erin and let her tell the mechanics about it. Then I went to see if there were any other planes available. Praise the Lord, my old favorite 2143Y was waiting for me! Well, I eagerly preflighted 43Y and began my taxi to the end of the runway. The instant I taxied onto the taxiway and the sun hit my windscreen, it became painfully clear to me that my windscreen was filthy. Now I should have just taxied back to the ramp, tied the plane back down, and gone home in defeat. But that's just not my style. So I did my run-up, taxied onto the runway, and took off. No problems there. I went out into the practice area and worked on my chandelles a bit. No problems there. Then I decided to head over to Bisbee Douglas International to do a few touch-and-go's. That's when things really started to go south. See, on one of the last flights I made with Erin before my private pilot check ride, I attempted a touch-and-go at BDI. I wound up flaring really high, which is a fine way to drive your landing gear struts through the tops of your wings. Since then, going to BDI has tended to make me a little tense. But I decided today was the day when I would finally conquer my fear, so out to BDI I flew. I entered left downwind, flew base, flew final, then got ready to land. My approach was looking good: I was lined up with the runway, my speed was looking good, my altitude was bleeding away just about right. Everything was swell. Then I began my flare... and my heartrate began to increase dramatically. But I thought to myself, "No, no. I've got this." )Coincidentally, I made an off-hand comment once to a friend that my last words on this earth would be, "No, no. I've got this." Funny, huh? Heh.) Anyhow, I was about as deep into a flare as a guy can get without his wheels kissing runway, and I decided I was too high. And I proceeded to panic. Yep. Panic. The least helpful course of action in any conceivable situation. So I panicked. And I added every bit of power I had at my disposal, which was considerable at that point, considering my engine was idling for the landing. "Aww, forget this. I'm going around," I said to myself. Now, I've read aviation articles and such that have made mention of a funny little term called "the back side of the power curve." In case you're not familiar with this little nugget, it's the point at which your plane is incapable of taking back off, regardless of how much power you give it. It tends to happen, you guessed it, when you're about 1.3 seconds from touching down. So, sure enough, I went full throttle, hoping to perform a go-around. Instead, my plane put itself down on the runway all the quicker. Hey! I'm on the ground. I didn't flare too high! I didn't bust off my wheels! That's great! It was all going beautifully, despite my little bout with panic. I gumped my way into a nice, no-casualties landing! So then I noticed that I was edging off center line a bit, so I made a few small corrections with my rudder pedals. See, here's the thing about rudder pedals. They're attached to the bottom of the brake pedals, so you have to be real careful not to press the brakes when what you're trying to do is press the rudder pedals. If you only press one brake right after landing, say if you were trying to apply a little rudder to straighten out your roll and you accidentally pressed the wrong part of the pedal, why, you're half-likely to make a real mess of your roll. So, back to my story. I was on the ground, rolling along, and I decided to apply a small amount of rudder to keep myself straight. So I did. And then I noticed my rudder was acting a little funny, because now I was moving off the other way. So I applied opposite rudder to straighten up. Wouldn't you know it, my nose instantly started to point off the first way again. And that's about when I smelled the burning rubber. Yep. I was tapping on my brakes after going full throttle. That's a fantastic way to burn your brakes clean off. That thankfully wasn't the case this time. So, being the stiff-necked man that I am (I'd have made an excellent Hebrew), I decided I couldn't let a stupid runway beat me, so I took off and went around again for another landing. And I panicked on that one, so I took back off and went around for another one. And I panicked on that one, too. However, before you write me off as a lost cause, it should be noted that despite my panic, I did successfully land the plane all 3 times, without injury or property damage to anyone.

After all of that excitement, I decided to head back to the college and do a couple landings there, in an attempt to bandage my wounded dignity (read: pride). Just as I was about to enter the pattern at Cochise, I heard someone make a call that she was behind me and would be number 2 to land. Now this was a girl who, I think, already doesn't like me (it kills me when I think someone doesn't like me. Long story.), and I possibly just cut her off in the pattern. Granted, I hadn't seen her and she hadn't made a position call before I got in the pattern myself. Regardless, I decided on my next radio call that I would "bend" communications rules a bit and clip off a quick apology to this girl in case I cut her off. So that's what I did. And then I got to thinking maybe Mr. Perry heard me on the radio they keep in the flight building or something. That would be bad, since Mr. Perry is the chief flight instructor at the college. If he thinks you did something wrong, you'll probably know about it. I finished my flight and decided to call it a day. As I was putting my key back in the briefing room, I noticed that Mr. Perry was up in the plane with that girl I apologized to. So there's no question he heard me apologize. Now I just have to wait and see if I get chewed out tomorrow.

All told, I should have just given up on the solo, either when I couldn't get a plane, or when the cowling pin fell off, or when I noticed my windscreen was filthy. There's certainly a lesson in all of this. Too bad I've got that stiff neck.