Young Jack lined up his Cessna 172 at the hold-short line of Runway 10L at North Perry Airport. “Cessna 9120P holding short of Runway 10L, ready for takeoff,” he said, his voice tight, like a question. “Cessna 9120P, fly straight out. Cleared for takeoff, 10L,” came the calm reply from the tower.
Beside him sat Jerry, his Certified Flight Instructor. “Centerline, Jack. Ease in full throttle while holding the brakes. Check the gauges—all green. Then release.” Jack did as told. The plane began to roll—20 knots, 30, 40— “More right rudder! Keep her straight!” Jerry called.
At 60 knots: “Rotate.” Jack pulled gently on the yoke. The Cessna lifted off, wheels whispering free of the earth. He was flying. Not watching. Not dreaming. Flying.
“Pitch up, climb at 80 knots. Nice job,” Jerry said. Jack grinned, stunned. “This is the best feeling ever,” he said. “It never gets old,” Jerry replied.
The two flew northeast, Jack listening intently as Jerry guided him through gentle turns, scanning the horizon, tracing coastlines with his eyes. It was his first flight—his discovery flight—a trial lesson for potential students. But for Jack, it was more than a trial. It was a calling.
When it came time to land, Jerry took the controls. “You’ll keep your hands on the yoke, just to feel it,” he said. Jack nodded.
They lined up with the runway. “See how I aim for the numbers? Descent at 400 feet per minute. Carb heat on—don’t want icing near the ground.” Jack followed every move, every checklist step. “Now I flare… hold it… and…” “Touchdown,” Jerry said, smooth as silk.
Jack’s face lit up. “That was amazing!” Jerry smiled. “Let’s taxi off and talk with ground.” Jack got to read back taxi instructions, hands still a little sweaty. He guided the plane to the hangar with Jerry shadowing his every move. “Good communication is everything in aviation,” Jerry said. “Mistakes on the ground can cost lives.”
Back at the hangar, Jerry handed Jack the checklist. “Pilots live by these,” he said. “Start to finish.” Jack powered down the plane, reading each line aloud. The flight was over, but something new had begun.
Later That Night…
Jack couldn’t sleep. The hum of the propeller still echoed in his head. His thoughts were tangled in excitement and dread.
At breakfast, his mother noticed. “You’ve been off lately, Jack. Talk to me.”
He hesitated. Then let it all spill out… the flight, Jerry, the thrill of flying, the dullness of his business major. “I want to be a pilot, Mom,” he said.
He handed her the folder from the flight school. She flipped through it, nodding. “Wow… my son, the pilot.” But then: “Is this what’s been worrying you? The cost?”
Jack nodded. “It’s expensive. And I know we can’t afford it.”
“I’ll come to the school with you,” she said. “Let’s see what’s possible.”
The Meeting
Jerry welcomed them warmly. “Jack’s a natural,” he said. “He’s got the spark.”
Jack’s mother smiled. “He hasn’t stopped talking about it.”
“But we’re worried about finances,” she added. Jerry explained financing options, school loans, and offered to help Jack get part-time work at the airport.
“We can also start with the ground school,” he said. “It’s affordable, and it’ll give Jack a head start while funding gets sorted.”
Jack was beaming. “I’ll work hard, sir. I’ll make it happen.” His mother reached for his hand. “We’ll figure it out. If this is your dream, we’ll find a way.”
Final Scene
That night, Jack opened the folder again.
Florida Flying Lessons & Aviation School: Where All Your Pilot Dreams Become Reality.
He smiled. This time, it didn’t feel like a slogan. It felt like the beginning.