Not Done Flying Yet

Patience paid off

Mike: Last week, I retired. Like many who reach this point, I find myself adjusting to the absence of something that has long defined my days—the steady pull of goals, the pressure to keep moving forward. I started working at fifteen, and now, after all these years, the stillness feels unfamiliar. Not unwelcome, just… different. It’s not that I lack things to do. In fact, the list of projects ahead is longer than ever. But I’ve recalibrated my compass.

When I was young, my father gave me advice that has stayed with me. He told me that whatever my passion, I should give it everything I had but not expect results or success to happen quickly. “Learn patience,” he said. My parents gave me encouragement and a roof over my head, but paying for college and flight training was up to me.

So, I went to work.

I re-floored semi-truck trailers, long days that left my hands so stiff I could barely make a fist by evening. I bused tables in smoke-filled restaurants, worked in warehouses, and took shifts in retail stores. Flying lessons came when I could afford them, often with long gaps in between—sometimes long enough that I had to relearn what I’d forgotten. Looking back, it might have been wise to save my money and do all my training at once, but I hadn’t learned that lesson yet. More importantly, I needed to keep flying—keep the dream alive.

After earning my private pilot certificate, I bought a car. Small progress, but it opened the door to better pay at a defense manufacturer. I continued working while finishing high school and, little by little, made my way through college as money allowed. Every job, even the ones I didn’t particularly enjoy, taught me something worth carrying forward. Along the way, I learned patience—and the value of a dollar.

Building flight hours was slow. There were no easy paths, no loans to speed the process. I worked overtime, saved what I could, and added ratings one at a time. For a while, I held two full-time jobs while attending college. When I finally earned my flight instructor certificate, doors began to open. I left both jobs and took a significant pay cut to pursue flying full time, starting in a worn single-engine aircraft hauling cancelled checks over desert and mountains.

From there, my career grew.

I’ve spent a lifetime in aviation, and even now, I’ve never really stopped teaching. I doubt I ever will.

Every experience—flying and otherwise, good and bad—has been stored away. I suspect many of them will find their way into the books I’ve long wanted to write. Now, at last, I have the time to pursue that creative side, along with the many projects that have awaited my attention for years.

It is time to begin again.

I’ve learned patience, but there is still much to do. And in any case, I’m not done flying—not by a long shot.