September Song

From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm 
And the cloud that took the form*

It was a good summer. Flights were flown, airfoils were foiled, Jet-A, avgas, and our skins were burned in warm, thermally activated air.

The Oshkosh season and high-density altitudes are winding down. By the time you read this, lyrics from such songs as “See You in September, “Goodbye Summer, and Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer” may be earworming their way into your thoughts. I would give extra credit if you remembered, “She Wore a Teeny-Weeny Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini,” or “Surf City.”

I can’t think of an aviation-related song that evokes the melancholia brought on by the end of summer, but I bet there is one out there somewhere. The lyrics to mine, if I were to write one, would look like this:

All the leaves are brown 
my engine oil too
I had some fun flights
in the past month or two

Now my oil heater’s hooked up
battery minder too
Summer flying dreaming
Shooby-dooby-do

Yes, I know, I should keep my day job.

The passing of the seasons is a standard column-writing trope. Still, I think that the transition from wings too hot to touch to hangars too cold to occupy deserves our attention, and not for the usual “let’s go drop some pumpkins” aviation reasons.

If you grew up like I did, you shared the ritual of beginning the school year a day or two after Labor Day. Early September was when we all hung up our Ron Jon t-shirts and put on scratchy and smelly, uncomfortable, mostly polyester “school clothes” to begin a year of indentured educational servitude.

Because of the annual trauma of dreading an ironic day that celebrated organized labor while assigning us to the gulag of grammar and Lukewarm school lunches, I think of September as a time of starting over and beginning anew.

My September history carried over to my flying life. Autumn brought changing weather and recurrent training at my airline. I always seemed to have ground school and simulator sessions scheduled in September, meaning manual updates and a fresh legal pad to try to take notes during the aircraft systems review and the Op/Specs (operational specifications) lecture.

We changed our pilot uniforms from lightweight white shirts with epaulets to the heavier, naval-looking black jackets with the gold stripes on the sleeves that month. All of us knew it would only be a matter of time before we found ourselves wearing those heavy black “London Fog” trench coats during our icy weather aircraft walk-arounds.

Now that I have long since transitioned from steely-eyed captain to affable and adorable retired pilot, the uniform requirements have changed from lightweight old-man fishing shirts to heavier-weight FSU sweatshirts (go Noles). If you want to enter the “TMI” (too much information) department, I also started wearing socks again in September.

This season is the best for flying because, at least in our midwestern climate, the conditions for aviation are ideal.

Discounting the possibility of a hurricane swimming by, our weather is right in the sweet spot between too daggum hot and too daggum cold—no need to pre-heat or de-ice anything. The cockpit is comfortable, and when you leave the FBO’s lobby, your glasses do not fog up or freeze to your face.

If you are in the habit of self-serve fueling, you will find that September is the best month for that. There is no ice on the ladder, and it isn’t so hot that you cannot put your hand on the top of the wing.

Geezer pilots like yours truly enjoy this season because it is the traditional time for pilots of a “certain age” to take long-awaited trips without all of those pesky kids and vacationers around. Spots I have wanted to visit by air, such as national parks and beaches, become much more accessible and welcoming once the general population returns to their jobs and schools.

I think that the fall season is the absolute best time to break out the airplane camping gear and put it to use. Check with the RAF (Recreational Aviation Foundation) to find your destination. They are an excellent resource for finding airports where you can camp. I joined last year and found their airplane campground guide worth the price of admission.

Amid the politics involved in flying, the heinous crashes, and the daggum weariness that late summer can bring, I await the cooler air and shorter days and look forward to saying: “Hey, is it too cold to go flying today?”

*From: “Alone,” by Edgar Allen Poe