“Hold the runway centerline,” I heard my instructor Ross say, as I was nudged by a crosswind in my final approach to landing.  In response, I kicked in left rudder, held the nose up to stay airborne for a few extra moments, and then ungracefully and too quickly tipped the rudder right to regain a parallel track.  I added a bit more back-pressure to the control yoke to ensure that the main wheels would tap the ground and roll before the front wheel would.  And, they did.  But I was right of the centerline, and rolling further right.  I had to "keep flying the plane" despite being on the ground (an admonition I, and I suspect other flight students had heard from instructors--meaning that even though you had safely made it to the ground, there was still very important work to be done; the plane still needed your attention and action), and I pushed the left rudder pedal forward, turning the plane to the left and to the runway center.  I knew that the Control Tower ATC professional--Gary, I believe it was on that Saturday morning--was watching, and would've probably given me a 5 or 6 out of 10.  

Everyone grades landings.  I had additional graders--the occupants of a small plane that had not long ago landed on a parallel runway.  They would have to wait for me to land; for the controler to see which taxiway intersection I would use to exit the runway, and to receive clearance from ATC before crossing my runway and taxiing to the hangar.  They had great seats and not much else to do other than watch me land--and the pilots should have been watching me, for their own safety. 

That landing was my least-graceful of the day.  Initially, I wasn't sure whether to attribute the poor performance to the wind, the slightly amped desire to pull off a nice landing for the audience, or some other factor.  I had had an audience for my best landing--at North-Texas Regional Airport--but there I know I was much more focused on flying than I would be two hours later at Wiley Post.  So, it's hard to admit, but I'll go ahead and do it:  I was distracted by the notion that there was a plane with at least a few occupants eagerly watching my every maneuver.  It was a pure "choke."  Research has shown (see any Psych 101 textbook) that when someone who isn't an expert at a task feels increased pressure to perform, (s)he will perform more poorly.  When it's an expert, the expert tends to do better.  I am quite assuredly not an expert at landing an airplane.

Your trusted partner is no longer another human being but instead a small airplane built in Kansas.

Ross’s instruction--to hold the centerline--had been imagined.  It popped into my head, and thus clearly has been drilled in nicely, but Ross hadn't spoken a word:  That landing was the final touchdown of my "long cross-country solo flight" in preparation for the Private Pilot License practical exam.  Emphasis on “solo.”  It’s been said that there is no more clear dividing line in a pilot’s career than pre-solo and post-solo; between having an instuctor in the plane with you during a flight (even if she never touches the controls the whole time), and the various “this is really happening,” “okay, here we go,” “no turning back,” “shit that was scary” moments, when it’s just you.  Your trusted partner is no longer another human being but instead a small airplane built in Kansas.  You’re climbing to 5,500 feet, trying to stay centered over the departing runway, keeping a close eye on your airspeed, expecting a call from the control tower, starting your turn to capture your intended course, being told to turn to an initial course of 70 degrees

and to pass the tall buildings downtown before turning to 151 degrees, and oh, while you do that, continue to monitor your rate of climb and engine indicators and continue to scan for traffic, and go ahead and contact Oke City Departure for further instructions (before you bust through 2,500’, or you’ll be in big trouble for potentially putting yourself and lots of passengers in various airliners in danger by entering Will Rogers World Airport’s airspace without meeting the legal requirement of establishing two-way radio communication with the Departure controlers, who keep an eye on and direct traffic in Will Rogers’s airspace).

Okay.  Sounds much worse than it is, really.  But, you really don’t want to get in the way of a Southwest 737 less than 3 minutes into your flight, and very quickly it becomes apparent that you could either pass those tall downtown buildings to the South and West, or to the North and East.  North and East makes the most sense, but there’s that field of radio antennae and cell towers in the way of that route.  Remembering that what “makes sense” isn’t what matters here, you decide to contact the Departure controllers, aware that they had probably already told you the answer to your putative question.  Knowing that the Departure controllers are really nice people, and even if they aren’t, that it’s both the correct decision and one that the controlers want you to make, you formulate your request before starting your transmission. 

But then another thought pops into your head:  probably two dozen airline pilots--men and women whom you in many ways idolize--who will hear the pilot of that little Cessna asking for clarification when the answer probably should have been obvious.  Mucking up their airwaves and probably totally incompetent, at that.  

Those pressures that the FAA is so keen on teaching and testing these days--the pressures that lead pilots to make poor decisions based on pride, machismo (yep, “Macho” is literally one of the “dangerous attitudes” that the FAA has decided it needs to curb), feelings of invincibility, pressure from others people or to stay on schedule, and more--are real, and don’t just affect stubborn cowboys or the very young or extremely foolish.  Before I started flying, I really believed that I would have a big advantage in this area; I generally make considered, cautious and prudent decisions (I think), and I am certainly aware of the fact that I am vincible (er, not invincible).  But just a few months into my flying career and on only my fifth solo flight, I have felt pressures that have pushed me towards bad decisions on more than a few occasions.  And I’ve been surprised how strongly those pressures have affected me.  This will certainly not be an area where I take anything for granted, or let my guard down because I believe I’m a thoughtful person.

I take the position that I can’t correct for dangerous pressures without recognizing them in the first place, so I hope that that first line of defense is sensitive enough, and that in the second instance, that I will build up that muscle that’ll let me overcome those pressures more and more easily.  My instructor (one of Oklahoma Aviation's Certificated Flight Instructors), just barely legal to drink, defies the stereotype of the young, loose cannon.  He is a great example to follow, and throughout my education has pointed out some not-so-obvious dimensions along which it’s easy to make a poor decision.  He becomes genuinely, visibly and vocally joyed when I make a “better safe than sorry” decision like rejecting--rather than trying to save--a landing when things don’t feel right.  So, this morning it’s “[o]ke City Departure, Skyhawk Niner Seven One Zero Alfa, Request.” … “9710A go ahead,” and “[p]lease instruct, do you request I pass North or South of the Devon tower?”  I get my answer, increase my angle of climb to ensure that I will be safe from the antennae even though I’ll be passing the buildings to the North and East.

Flying at relatively low altitudes affords one some really magical vantage points.  You’re close enough to make out the buildings and geographical features that you know from the ground, but you're high enough that everything is in miniature.  Things aren’t just breathtakingly beautiful--you’re in a state of suspended, mindful escape.  It’s like being on vacation, but by virtue of an incredibly vivid and exhiliarating picture, remaining keenly aware of not just the beauty of your everyday surroundings, but also just what you’re vacationing from.

After making a lazy turn around those downtown buildings (one of which, I am very aware, is where I work) I intercept my 151 degree course to North Texas Regional Airport.  I fly right over the still-quiet (it’s early) Will Rogers World Airport, and not much later, the University of Oklahoma and, hey, that football field where my wife and I saw the Sooners play, back in October.

It was time to dial in the autopilot and maybe get some XM radio going.  I reached for the autopilot controls, but … they weren’t there.  They weren’t anywhere.  Oops, wrong plane.

(To be continued in Part 2)

How exactly would a consumer know which shipping carrier is the safest to use?  A pretty good source of information is the cost to insure a shipment -- but not the price the shipper charges, because a shipper's own insurance pricing is not clearly related to actual risk.  

Instead, let's compare how much an independent, third party insurer charges to ship packages using the various carriers.  We know that the insurer has an incentive to (a) charge as little as possible, because this is a crowded, competitve market, (b) not charge less than the expected value of a shipment's loss (expected value being: the sum of: the probability a given dollar-value loss will occur, multiplied by the dollar value).  So the insurance company's rates are likely a decent indicator of at least comparative shipping safety.

(Please click on or tap this image below to view it in larger form)

FedEx is our winner, in terms of one-stop shopping. UPS and DHL match it in the International category, but FedEx wins by a HUGE margin (272%, if my math is correct).  CanadaPost and the United States Postal service have embarrassing results.

The caveat here is that there are some confounding variables.  Perhaps the insurance company knows that people who ship via FedEx tend to pack more carefully, or that the types of things shipped by FedEx tend to be sturdier than those shipped by customers of other carriers.  So mabye you don't need to use FedEx as much as act like the kind of person who uses FedEx.  That's difficult when you aren't deciding what it is you want to ship, but.  

Ultimately, I think the effect of confounding variables is low.  I do however recognize that there may be additional factors I'm not considering, which factors could impact the price differences.

For one reason or anoher, my energy has led me to post more or less exclusively on youllbehappy.com -- one of my other Posterous blogs -- rather than this one.  So, go all ye faithful and change your bookmarks (lol: as if anyone ever bookmarked this site)... I think youllbehappy. 

this is from RunKeeper.  at the time of the hike, the map wasn't there, but it was still able to plot a course because it could get GPS.  once we were back in AT&T range it was able to download the map underlay.

nice little hike; but I am *not* used to altitude.  my home in SLC is at ~4700 FT, and that is fine for me, but I'm a city boy and not used to climbing up mountains at more than double that altitude.  if the hike had been flat I'd have been alright, but still probably would have noticed the air thinness.  see post below for altitude reading from another iPhone app.

because the app doesn't store maps locally on the phone, and we were out of AT&T service range, we could get GPS data but no map fill-in

Despite what the guy at the local coffee shop Mestizo says, I'm not sure everyone is an artist.  I definitely don't consider myself one.  But I made this drawing on my iPhone and I think it's pretty neat.