AOPA Pilot Magazine - July 2013 - 24

LICENSE TO LEARN

The backseat

BY ROD MACHADO

‘You want me to sit where?’
IN THE EARLY 1980S I was offered a trip by airplane to a
speaking engagement by a fellow named Pete, who had
hired me to speak. He had just purchased a Comanche
250. Given my assumption of riding right seat, I eagerly
accepted. Upon arriving at the airport, I spied Pete and
another fellow standing near the airplane.
“Hello, Rod,” said Pete. “This is my flight instructor,
Tim. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked him to come
along to complete my dual instruction requirement.”
I looked at Pete and said, “Dual instruction requirement? What rating are you working on?”
Pete replied, “I need one more hour of dual before I
can take my private pilot checkride.”
Yikes! It was a Venus’ flytrap of my own creation,
and the problem was that I wasn’t going to fly! By mak-

If there had been turbulence during the flight,
the tension in my body would have cracked
me in half.

ROD MACHADO

will be a featured
speaker at the 2013
AOPA Aviation
Summit in Fort
Worth, Texas,
October 10-12.

24 | AOPA PILOT July 2013

ing every error of assumption possible in agreeing to fly
with Pete, I ended up sitting in the backseat of a complex airplane, with an unfamiliar student pilot who was
receiving instruction from an instructor about whom
I knew nothing. It was an imperfecta trifecta. If there
had been turbulence during that flight, the tension in
my body would have cracked me in half.
Pilots like being in control, which is why they almost
universally dislike being more than an arm’s length from
the controls. You can do schtick from the backseat, but
there is no stick. Put a pilot in an airplane but separate
him or her from the flight controls, and you’ll get adrenalin and consternation in equal quantities at takeoff.
When forced to sit in the rear seat, pilots typically
cope with the resulting anxiety by doing one of two
things. They’ll contemplate the route needed to reach
the flight controls in case they have to assume command of the ship, or they’ll imagine doing something
that closely resembles the Jedi mind-control technique.
Several years ago my dear friend Ken, who is a highly
experienced instructor and airline captain, was offered
a trip to the Bahamas in a small six-seat twin-engine airplane. Given his experience, Ken assumed he’d be asked
to sit up front. You guessed it—Venus’ flytrap. The lowtime twin-engine pilot had previously invited his even
lower-time friend to occupy that position.

Realizing what he had done, Ken quickly calculated
the social discomfort he’d incur by arguing forcibly for
the co-pilot position. Then he compared that calculation to his chances of successfully climbing over four
seats, each hosting a warm body, in enough time to reach
the flight controls and prevent an impending disaster. As
Ken said, “The thought of the climb-over helped ease
my discomfort, but only because I have a good imagination, was willing to entertain the irrational, and
developed a sudden fondness for the non sequitur.” We
call that rationalization by another name.
More than a few pilots have contemplated using
the “Flying Wallenda mount and dismount strategy” to
reach the yoke from the backseat. When a reality check
identifies this strategy as being unfeasible, they’ll often
default to the Kreskin mind-domination method of aircraft control. This technique allows them to physically
move the controls by talking to the person who’s currently in possession of them.
One older, highly experienced pilot told me that if
he were in the backseat and had to take over from that
position, he’d use his persuasive (Kreskin-like) speaking ability to control the pilot. Hmmm, I wonder how
that would sound? Hey, bud, get your nose down! Watch
that speed! Don’t make me come up there with this bad
hip! With the exception of already being “up there,” it
sounds just like flight instruction, doesn’t it?
As a means of reducing our anxiety when we can’t
be in control directly, we imagine how we might gain
control indirectly. Sometimes this works, even when we
know it won’t work. I think, however, there’s a better
lesson for anxious pilots to learn here—and acquiring
gymnastic or Jedi mind-control skills isn’t it.
If you’re one of those pilots who dislikes sitting in
the rear seat of an airplane, then consider this simple
piece of advice. Decide whether or not that possibility exists beforehand and make a preemptive strike. Say
something like the following to the person offering you a
ride in his or her flying machine. “I’d love to fly with you,
but I want to be clear that I prefer not to sit in the backseat. I do hope you understand.” I have yet to find a pilot
who didn’t empathize with my disposition on position.
It’s been nearly 30 years since I made that mistake
with Pete. I can honestly say that I have yet to re-peat
it. Hopefully you won’t, either.
AOPA
WEB

www.rodmachado.com

http://www.rodmachado.com

AOPA Pilot Magazine - July 2013

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