Pilot Takes off

When he first got into the Cessna 172, he kept reminding himself that ordinary people could be talked into landing a plane by an air traffic controller who was a trained pilot. That had happened in one episode of his favourite Mythbusters series, so it must be quite credible. That first flight went well enough, as he matched his ground school lessons to the real-world, watching how the instruments behaved and how the controls felt.

Now, as he sat in the left-hand seat of the Airbus 319, he had to keep reminding himself that it was all about listening to the instructions and following them. The instructor had joked about "heavy metal" being not the genre of music but the aircraft he was about to try flying for the first time. He went through the pre-takeoff checklist as the instructor taxiied the aircraft out onto the designated runway. He kept contact with the ATC: codes, numbers and lingo rolling off his tongue effortlessly. He used to keep a handy reference list of ATC communication conventions, but today, all he had to do was refer to his flight plan and the airport taxiway map.

The plane rolled to a stop before the double bold, double dashed lines. One more confirmation from ATC, and he assumed command of the plane. He gingerly opened the throttles, watched the EICAS dials rise and heard the whine of jet engines quite far behind him. He had half expected the sound of huge turboprops chugging right beside the cockpit windows, but this was no Baron 58. He lined up smartly along the runway, which impressed the instructor somewhat. "If that impresses you, wait till you see me in the air!" He thought.

He pushed the throttles up a bit further and watched the N1 dial closely. "Forty Ann one," the instructor voiced out his thoughts. N1 measures the speed of rotation of the low-speed fan of the engines, as a percentage of its maximum rotational speed. In a high-bypass engine like the 319's turbofans, this provided the best estimation of engine power.
He was silently happy that he no longer have to compare manifold pressure against prop RPM like he did on the Baron. He pushed the throttle further; the whine became obvious and he was pushed against his seat. The instructor reported calmly, "Ninety five Ann one," He wanted to grin but kept his pilot face on. What a difference jets make!

"Eighty knots," The instructor said.
"Eighty knots," He concurred.

"Hundred and fifty, rotate." He gently eased back on the side stick, watching as the attitude indicator rotated back. Not more than 3 degrees a second, he reminded himself.

"Positive altitude and positive VSI, gear up." He finally let go for the throttles and reached forward for the landing gear lever. He threw it forward and watched the indicator lights flick off.

"Five Hundred feet AGL, let's go for best rate of climb." He had the information written on his reference sheet, but he memorised it well enough to automatically do it. Pitch, 15 degrees; power, 90 N1; trim.
The three step process he had practiced since that first flight in the 172 came naturally to him. He mentally ran the numbers through his head again: best rate of climb gave him the highest altitude gain in a given span of time, while best angle of climb gives him the highest altitude gain in a given span of ground distance. He has to memorise them for the 319 again that night...

"Approaching two-twenty knots, retract flaps." Just like he did with the landing gear, he pushed the lever full forward and verified that the flaps indicators showed zero deflection. Pleased with everything, he turned to look at his instructor and grinned, "We're airborne."