The aviation community is alive and well
Air Facts Journal
General aviation can feel old fashioned, but sometimes that’s exactly what we need. I experienced our community’s unique hospitality on a recent trip to Virginia, and it took a non-pilot to remind me just how good we have it.
The flying part of the trip was easy: fly 250 miles from Cincinnati to the Shenandoah Valley, in clear skies and light winds. This was easy and efficient, but after landing at SHD I realized the efficiency was to be short-lived, because of the dreaded “last mile delivery” challenge. I was dropping off my daughter who, at age 16, cannot rent a car (note: this is a good policy!). No problem—Uber is almost as ubiquitous as oxygen these days, and I’ve used it before at this exact airport. Except this was a Sunday night, and apparently no drivers in western Virginia were interested in leaving the comforts of home for a 50-mile drive. After multiple attempts it became clear that a car was not coming, and neither was a local taxi.
Crew cars are the most visible examples of the aviation community.
Before the expletive could even leave my mouth, one of the FBO employees offered to lend me the crew car. In fact, he offered “the good one,” since he knew I was going a long way and “the not good one” apparently has questionable performance on the highway. I assumed the crew car option would be impossible, or at least impossibly bad manners, since the round trip would be nearly two hours and the FBO was closing soon. But he wouldn’t hear it: “take all the time you need and just drop the keys off with the night security guard. We appreciate your business.” This goodwill was extended even though we were doing a quick turn and had not purchased any fuel. In fact, the FBO never asked for my driver’s license or even my name—they just tossed me the keys.
As we pulled out of the parking lot (in a very nice Subaru, for the record), my daughter was confused: “What just happened? They let you borrow the car for free?!” And so began my monologue on the wonders of the crew car system, its unwritten rules, and its pecking order of vehicles. She might have tuned out after the first few lines, but we had 45 minutes to kill so I didn’t hold back.
The drop-off went fine and before returning the car, I obeyed the first rule of crew car etiquette: return it in better shape than when you took it. To me that means a full tank of gas and a clean windshield. I even unpaired my cell phone, a nod to modern technology preferences.
To most pilots, the scene I’ve just described sounds entirely unremarkable. And indeed, this was not a one-off event or some kind of special treatment because I’m a uniquely nice guy (I assure you, I’m not). This is just part of general aviation culture, and it’s been going on for decades. But that ubiquity makes it very easy to take such generosity for granted. For perspective, imagine this happening on an airline flight: would the gate agent lend you their car for a few hours, just because you flew in on United? You probably couldn’t finish reading that sentence without laughing.
On the flight home, my thoughts turned philosophical, probably influenced by the beautiful sunset off the nose. America is fractured, at least according to the headlines. Robert Putnam first warned us 25 years ago that we were “bowling alone,” joining fewer civic organizations and helping out in our communities less than ever. More recently, the Pew Research Center found that only a quarter of Americans know most of their neighbors, much less help them out regularly. Of course you don’t need a book or a survey to tell you people are less neighborly than they once were: the lack of civility among Black Friday shoppers, airline passengers, and restaurant diners can supply enough anecdotes to complete a truly depressing picture.
Take time to savor the views and the people that make aviation unique.
And yet the aviation community endures. Some traditions have certainly faded over the years—I see fewer hangar kegs than I once did—but many of the most important ones are surprisingly resilient. Most pilots look out for each other, displaying a selflessness that would inspire laughter in other parts of life.
Here are just a few examples of the aviation community in action, all of which I have witnessed personally (I invite you to add your own examples in the comments below):
- The pilot who relays your flight plan cancellation to ATC when you’re out of range.
- The mechanic who comes out on a rainy night to help you with your broken down airplane when you’re far from home.
- The flight instructor who offers free advice to a confused student on a multi-leg cross country.
- The approach controller who recognizes your tail number and offers a shortcut before you even ask for it.
- The corporate pilot who gives a young pilot the right seat so they can learn about turbine engines and flight level procedures.
- The Young Eagles ground coordinator who does hours of preparation and paperwork to give kids (and pilots) a fun and memorable experience.
- The FBO worker who drives out to pump fuel after hours, then when the credit card machine doesn’t work tells you to just send a check when you get home.
- The tower controller who watches out for a student pilot on a first solo, then congratulates them after it’s over.
- The airplane owner who lends you their hangar for the weekend because they’re away on a trip and he knows bad weather is moving in while your aircraft is tied down outside.
- The pilot who you barely know who flies to pick you up after dropping your airplane off at the shop.
- The flight instructor who takes a pilot up for a free lesson after they scared themselves on a solo flight.
- The new friend at Oshkosh you just met, who seems genuinely interested in your flying background and in no hurry to one-up you (even though you later find out they are an airshow legend!).
We have a good thing in aviation. Maybe it’s old fashioned hospitality or the last gasp of chivalry, but I suspect pilots just love what they do so they want to pass it on. Whatever the cause, we should all savor our unique community and its unwritten rules. It’s one reason so many of us stay committed to such a difficult and expensive activity, and it’s something no social network or VR game can match.
Even better than savoring it, we should pass on the habits and culture of our unique community. It only exists if we walk the walk every day. So the next time a fellow pilot asks for help, assume the best and say yes. It’s how we compete with Uber—no app required.
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