Yesterday, I became a certificated pilot.

Took off from work around 1:15 pm to go the airport, grab the keys, and complete my x-c prep to Del Rio. Fortunately(!) due to the previous two flying portion cancellations, this was the third time I was going through this, so the only significant change was to drop from 8500' planned altitude to 4500'. Save some time and gas, and maybe not wear the patience of Gary (my DE) quite as much.

Rechecking my charts, I noticed that my Houston sectional has expired yesterday. A quick trip to the local FBO got me a new one, and I hoped it might make a difference if the DE sees I was attentive enough to have "all current information"...

At 3:15 I went out to 5400J (already fueled by phone) and took off to do a little practicing around the twin lakes. Steep turns, power-on and -off stalls, emergency descent. None are great, but most are passable, I hope. Now the clock reads 3:50 and it's time to pick out Coulter from the green flatlands below and head for the test. ATIS says winds are from 360 at 12 gusting to 20, so runway 32 is going to be a little breezy. Good opportunity to practice one last short field...get to 1157' pattern altitude, pull throttle, carb heat, trim up, flaps to 10, turn base, flaps to 20, nose down, turn final, flaps to 40..look at that sink rate! I'm not going to make the runway because the wind has pushed me out farther than I expected. Damn! Power up and hold it until the runway is assured. Power out. Bump it down. What slop. Oh well, maybe I got my bad one out of the way before the test.

Chock the plane, walk into Bryan Aviation and...Gary's not there! Had to run an errand, back in 10 minutes or so. I took the opportunity to brush up on my E6-B wind corrections, since I had visions of managing a diversion and having to report True Course, Wind Correction, Heading, Estimated Arrival Time, etc. the moment my new course was adopted.

Here comes Gary and my heart is blasting blood to my pits, which are sweating like there's no tomorrow.

"We ready to do it this time?" OK, body, knock off the overdrive and settle down.

"Show me this plane is legal to fly."

Airworthiness, Registration, POH, weight & balance.

Current annual, 100 hour inspection, altimeter, transponder...all the logbooks were opened, checked and closed nearly as quickly. Good, one concern down, only about a million to go.

"Go preflight the plane, I'll be out when you're done."

Cool. I think I'm pretty thorough when I preflight, and I hit all the checkpoints, but it's something I'm not sure I want to be graded on.

I hop in the left seat so he can see I'm ready. It's 4:45 and here he comes.

"Where're we going today?"

"Del Rio. It should be a beautiful day for a flight." High pressure has moved in, and we'll have a quartering tailwind for much of the way. "We'll be flying our flight plan at 4500' rather than 8500' for passenger comfort."

We reviewed the passenger briefing on the ramp, and I covered both sides of the Dauntless form. He seemed a little amused by it all, but I'm sure he's seen all this before. I announced our taxi to Coulter traffic, and requested any traffic to identify itself. No response.

I also added a couple of additions to the Dauntless list. "When I raise my right hand, it will signal you to be quiet because I need to hear something that requires my attention on the radio or inside the aircraft. Also, I'll raise my hand when I need to speak on the radio, so that you won't interrupt my transmission."

Then I told him that, for purposes of this flight when he wasn't acting as my DE, I was going to act as though he were my 12-year-old son. By that I mean that I'd try to explain the reason I was doing certain things in plain language. Again, quiet bemusement from the right seat.

"I'm going to taxi rather slowly because of the high wind. You might wonder why I'm "steering' the ailerons on the ground...that's to keep the wind out from under our plane so it won't flip."

And so it went. A couple more announcements to traffic. A complete 360 taxi in the runup area to scan for traffic (thanks, John R!) before taking the runway (Coulter is notorious for nardo ultralights.) Finally, rollout, rotation and takeoff! Here we go!

We hit an air bump, and my clipboard/clamsheel storage box on the dash comes flying down. Without taking my eyes away from outside traffic, I pick it out of midair, at the clasp so it doesn't fly open, and set it down in front of my seat. I couldn't do that again in ten tries, but today things just seem to be happening right.

"Nice catch." He smiles.

First heading, 233 over the Annex (checkpoint 1, 7 minutes in. I write it down, along with approx takeoff time, since I forgot to put that down before). Climbing to 4500. Straight into the warm bright western sun. There was a NOTAM about unmanned craft to 2500' at the Annex that I heard on ATIS, so I was pleased that I could announce that we were at 3000' there and climbing, well clear of any probems.

Tuned the VOR to 113.30, heading 249 and leveled out at 4500. Intercepted it around Caldwell (never did see the town, which was supposed to be checkpoint 2) when the DE spots a threatening line of storms directly ahead and orders a diversion to Cameron.

Ah, yes, the diversion. But Cameron? Where the heck is Cameron?"

Whip out the sectional, find Cameron about 10 miles outside of my 25-mile student pilot limit. Turn to heading 320, reach for my E6-B in the bag behind me and can't find it without looking away from the outside and/or instruments. Heck with it, I scan the chart and estimate our distance at 22 miles, IAS 95 kts, and remembering the northern 15 kt wind, estimate our arrival in about 18 minutes. He seems satisfied.

"OK. Heading 330 and configure for slow flight. Keep it at 4500 feet."

"Just a moment...let me do a couple of 180 clearing turns first." I clear the area, first left, then right. They seem to take forever, but I stick with it.Thanks for the reminder, Eric.

Heading 330. Trim nose up, Throttle back a knuckle or so. See airspeed drop. "Vs1 is 44 kts, so I'll fly around 1.2x that, or about 51 kts." Nose up, slower. Flaps to 20 (I think). Stall horn bleats. Pedal-steer through a s-l-o-w 270 left turn at his request. Another turn, this one to the right. Altimeter is moving a little, but my regular instrument scan is paying that one special attention.

"Power-off stall, please. Maintain a heading of 330."

Carb heat in, power down, Nose up. More...more..hear the horn going off, and mention that to Gary. Then, a mush break and recovery, though I'm about 30 degrees from my intended course. Hmmm, I hope that one was all right. Gary starts writing on his clipboard...

"Now a power-on stall, please."

Flaps up, carb heat in, climb, nose higher, higher, right rudder, RIGHT RUDDER, we can't go any slower, why won't the stall happen...there's the break! Relax yoke, rudder to level, recover to 76 kias. Again, my heading had drifted while I was approaching stall.

"I'd like you to do a steep turn. Your choice of direction, 45 degrees or more. Maintain altitude and roll out on 330."

I choose to the left and start. Fifteen, 30, 45. Hold it. Altitude starts falling, so a little elevator. Keep horizon where it is on the windshield and pay attention to altitude. Finally 320 appears and I roll out. Came up a tick or two short of 330 and kick a little left pedal in to push it the rest of the way. Did he notice?

By now we're at nearly 5000'.

"Put on the hood and we'll do some instrument work."

Hood on. Gary directs me through a series of climbs and descents, turns to a heading...I feel pretty good about these. At one point, I decided to demonstrate my understanding a little.

Gesturing to the turn-and-bank, I describe its function, again as if to my son. "Now, this shows me that we're in a standard rate turn. In a standard rate turn, we turn three degrees every ten seconds, so it allows us to change headings by timing turns."

Silence. My brain is knocking, and I finally answer. I had flipped the numbers! The DE's eyebrows are raised, expectantly.

"No, that's not right...(long pause)...umm, never mind." Stupid brain farts!

Actually, despite the slipup, right now I feel pretty good about how the whole test is going.

"Unusual attitudes. Head down, please"

He puts me in two or three positions, all of which are easy to identify and fix. I ask "Is it safe to assume you're not messing with my trim?" and he says he isn't, which makes recovery pretty easy, since the plane wants to fly in its last stable configuration. All I do is get the blue side up, level the wings and settle the airspeed.

"You may take your hood off."

I do, and blink a little at the bright sun.

"Oops, you seem to have lost power."

Fair enough. I've heard that DE's always pull power within gliding distance of some little unobtrusive airstrip and take great sport when the applicant misses it and aims for a field. Not this DE. There is nothing but flat brown and green fields below. I reach best glide of 65 kias and pick a nice patch of green, laid out so that I can fly a downwind to the south and land against the wind. I'll need to clear a short line of railroad radio wires, but nothing too bad. Just don't make the common mistake of coming in too high I turn 'final', dump flaps and come down to about 200', talking out loud about my planned landing the whole time. Miraculously, power comes back and, at the DE's request, we climb to ground reference maneuver altitude, 1000' (approx 700' AGL).

"I'd like to see some S-turns across that road and fence line there," gesturing with his hand.

I suggest a couple more clearing turns, this time looking above me for traffic. It then took me a bunch of jockeying to set up the turns so that I'll enter on downwind. The wind is strong enough that I'm nervous with the steep bank required on the first turn, and I get back to perpendicular a little early. Then, the turn to the right leaves me short. Nuts...those were about the worst S-turns I've done! Damn the wind! But the words of the Colonel come to mind: "Pray for wind...you'll get all kinds of slack in windy conditions."

"Climb out to 2000' and take me back to Coulter. Let's do some landings."

Now, 1000' (even 2000') doesn't offer you a good perspective in my part of Texas. Everything is flat, and landmarks are rather few and far between. But as luck would have it (and because that's what kind of a day it's been) I roll out EXACTLY where I had been practicing just before my checkride. West of the twin lakes, which are WNW of Coulter.

Heading 100 degrees. Cruise configuration. Warp speed, Mr. Sulu. Radio 4 miles out for traffic. DE: "Let's make this a short field, on the numbers."

Enter downwind at 45, radio all positions. Throttle, carb heat, pull yoke, 10 flaps, then 20. You know the drill.

Full flaps. Announce my speed on final as 59 plus 5 for the 10 kts extra gusts. Hit it about 100' past numbers, but within spec.

"Back taxi for short field takeoff."

Check the checklist. Flaps. Throttle. Climb out at Vx until clear of 50', then Vy.

I announce my intent and do it. Not bad. Mentally, My long list of PTS maneuvers that remain to be executed during this ride has dwindled to just a few: simulated soft field, go-around, slip. Which will this one be?

"Let's make it a soft field, landing and then directly into a soft-field takeoff."

Announce my position, throttle back, carb heat, flaps 10. I realize that I'm flying my finals way long by now, but I really don't want to change my setup in midstream, since it's been working up 'til now.

Start final at what seemed like 3/4 mile out, slowing down under full flaps, pushing into a wind that by now might be 15 kts. And I realize I'm short, and _not_ just by a little.

Power in. We lurch forward, then up. Trim up to slow then power out. We start a sink before I trim forward a touch, get over the numbers, kill throttle and flare. Bounce the mains pretty good, then settle them on the runway, but nosewheel still clear. Flaps up to 10, carbheat in, throttle up, glance at trim, rotate at 55 and stay in ground effect for a moment, then accelerate up. Flaps up once we're safe.

Probably my worst landing in a month, but I'm not looking back now. We're too close to the end of the test. Gary marks his clipboard.

"For this next one, I'd like you to forward slip to landing."

Deep breath. Slips are always an adventure to me. Here goes.

Around the pattern to (another long) final. I explain that I'll keep flaps at 10, since the aircraft is placarded against slipping with flaps.

Stay a little high and bank with opposite rudder. I lose 500 feet pretty fast, but the speed is still OK. About 100 AGL he waves it off. "Go around."

Since I knew a go-around had been coming, and I'd now exhausted my mental list of PTS requirements, I didn't mind that at all. I radioed the procedure and reentered the pattern.

Little smile. "Make a normal landing, Whatever That Is, and make it to a full stop." Ah, DE sarcasm! And I smiled when I realized he was right!

Once more around, to a 20 degree-flap landing on which I almost missed the 75' wide runway to the left. That wind keeps picking up. Ruddered it straight and steered it back to center ASAP after touching down, but still, not a thing of beauty. In fact, all my landings were plain ugly. "They don't have to be pretty. They just have to be safe," the words of my CFI came to mind.

We debrief afterwards, and the DE points out two rough spots: awareness of spin tendencies during the stalls, and the bouncy 'soft-field' landing. Both of which were expected, but in my mind they were only two of numerous areas that I knew I could improve on.

While waiting for my ticket to get typed up, I got word that a 182RG from another flying school did a gear-up at Easterwood (CLL) my home airport, while I was flying. The airport was closed for 90 minutes while that was cleaned up (no one hurt). I was grateful that my test was scheduled when it was, or I might have been trapped on the ground.

By the time I flew back to CLL, the field had reopened but the winds were 16 gusting to 26 from 010. Radioing ahead to the tower through the blackening sky I was directed to a right downwind with next contact at midfield. My instructor Andy, who knew I had been taking my checkride, was up teaching and heard my transmission. "Easterwood Tower, be sure that 00J has a licensed pilot in command before clearing him to land."

ATC went silent with confusion, and I laughed into my headset at my instructor's acknowledgement. He knew.

"Easterwood Tower, Cessna 5400J. Yes, there is a newly certificated pilot in command of 00J. At midfield, right downwind for landing."

Now it was Tower's turn to chuckle. "Congratulations! 00J cleared to land, runway 34."

"Clear to land, runway 34. 00J." In the ensuing radio silence, another distant pilot echoed his feelings: "New pilot? Way to go, congratulations!"

With the gusty winds, I had a little concern as I turned right base, final, and landed fast but smooth. Taxiing was wobblier than I ever felt due to the wind. Or maybe due to my adrenaline.

Tower calling: "00J, right on Bravo, remain this frequency to the ramp."

"Thanks, tower. 00J."

It had been quite a day.