Monterey Emergency

An Ounce of Prevention ...

- Stan Dunn

I discovered aviation years ago after winning a free hour in a United Airlines DC-10 simulator. It wasn’t long before I started taking flying lessons at Centennial Airport in Colorado, where I trained in the high-density altitude days of summer. If nothing else, the anemic aircraft performance taught me discipline as it related to airspeed: If you are unsatisfied with your rate of climb at Vy, increasing pitch won’t help.

After an intermittent few years of flight training, my family finally prodded me into an administrative position at a flight office in Los Angeles. I packed my bags and drove to the coast, planning to quickly earn my commercial certificate once settled. Instead, I filled a surprisingly affordable room a block from Hermosa Beach with surfboards and sand, and six months later I had yet to fly over Southern California.

Eventually, I was introduced to an airline captain who also owned a flight school. He gave me the number for a 19-year-old CFI, and we got to work finishing up my commercial license. Soon, all that was left was to build the prerequisite hours for the practical test. A flight up the coast sounded like a great way to waste a Saturday, and the clam chowder in Monterey is renowned. It was going to be a long flight in the slowpoke Cessna 152, but I was excited to see the sights and build some time.

I departed early from Daugherty Field in Long Beach. During the run-up, the left magneto threatened to drop below the rpm limit; I ran the test several times before I was satisfied that it was stabilized on the borderline of allowable. I thought, this is not normal, but it is legal. It is a concept that I now know should raise red flags.