This Extraordinary Real-World Tale of Woe Is Not a Work of Fiction!
Check rides can be stressful. They’re long, expensive, and nerve-racking. It’s easy to feel like all the time, energy, and money you’ve invested in your training comes down to whether you walk away from one flight with a brand-new license or the dreaded pink slip.
For most people, the suspense lasts only a few hours. But when I became a private pilot, the suspense lasted three weeks. As I experienced the check ride from purgatory, I learned a better way to think about FAA examinations. They’re not tests, so much as learning opportunities—chances to become a better pilot who is better equipped to handle turbulence of any and every kind.
Check Ride – Part 1: I’m Ready, Let’s Go!
It was Wednesday, 29 July 2021, 1300 local time at an airfield in central Texas. I’ve passed my written exam, logged the hours, tracked down my maintenance logs, and wrote the examiner’s check. I arrived at the FBO half an hour early. The examiner arrived an hour late, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and flipflops. By the time he collected the fee and reviewed the paperwork, it was 1430. I was on edge. Summer squalls were rolling in. I tried to ignore the weather outside the FBO window and focus on the exam.
“Can an employer legally hire you instead of another applicant because you have your pilot’s license, and the other applicant doesn’t?” The examiner waited as I flipped through the FAR/AIM. I scoured the footnotes and did my best to interpret the legalese. I gave a half-right answer. I was off to a bad start.
“Now say you’re taking off after a Boeing 737. How long should you wait to avoid the wake turbulence?” “Doesn’t it depend on what the wind’s doing?” I asked. He didn’t say anything. I gave an extra cautious answer. He actually snorted. “About 3 minutes,” came his reply. My safety margin had been three times that. It wasn’t exactly a strike, but definitely not a confidence boost either. The interrogation continued.
It was 1600 by the time we finished the oral exam. Outside the angry clouds had developed into a full-blown Texas summer storm. I hated to stretch the exam out another day, but I had no choice. I called for a weather-related discontinuance. The examiner put on his aviators and flip-flopped out of the FBO. See you tomorrow.
