After my first introductory flight at 16, I asked my dad to pay for flying lessons. His answer? A firm, “No!” I was frustrated—but he taught me something far more valuable than how to fly: the meaning of hard work.
He believed in my dreams, but made sure I was the one to chase them. When I finally earned my Private Pilot’s license, he beamed with pride—and was the first in line for a ride.
To all the men without children: you can still be a father figure.
My first flight instructor knew I couldn’t afford to fly, so he hired me at the flight school—and paid me in flight time. He had a passion for teaching and introducing people to the sky.
I remember drooling over a sleek corporate jet once, starstruck. He looked it over casually and said, “Way too fancy for me.” I thought he was nuts.
But he only ever wanted a prop and the open sky. He taught me to notice the little things—the beauty up there.
His calm, grounded teaching style stuck with me. Years later, when I became a ground instructor, his lessons echoed through my own students.
In college, a corporate pilot gave me a job cleaning jets. I once asked him about the coolest place he’d ever flown. Without missing a beat, he said, “Home.” I thought he was nuts, too. But in time, I understood. He taught me the value of home.
Once, while ferrying a small aircraft, I heard a corporate jet barreling in behind me on final to an uncontrolled airport. Technically, I had the right of way—but I knew it was easier for me to maneuver. So I went around and let him land first.
Back on the ground, the First Officer walked over and thanked me with a firm handshake. He asked about my goals and offered encouragement. I’d only known him a few minutes, but in that moment, he taught me the importance of gratitude and lifting others up.
To every old mechanic and seasoned pilot at small airports who welcomed me with coffee, donuts, stories, and lies—thank you. For your time, your wisdom, and your encouragement.
Happy Father’s Day—to my dad, and to every man who took the time to show me the way. You didn’t just teach me how to fly. You taught me how to live.
Crock’s Thoughts 