It'll be 50 years next month since I first slipped the surly bonds of earth without someone else in the airplane. To write that it was likely the most exciting thing in my life would be overstating a bit - those were exciting days all lumped together; marriage, children, college graduation, my OCS commission - all those have to count ahead of flying but it was flying that marked the beginning of my professional life and the realization of childhood dreams.
After 50 years aloft in various airplanes from J3s to jets I have been told by the insurance underwriter that my flying days in the CallAir Cadet are all but over, at least as far as that airplane is concerned. Oh, they'd renew, but only on the condition that I jump through hoops far beyond FAA Airman Certification Standards and then there was the price - stupid ridiculous. The Cadet is a Light-Sport compliant airplane, restored to better-than-new and a sweetheart to fly.
I've known pilots who complained about this or that in a headstrong way and I've been able to calibrate my BS meter pretty accurately where they are concerned. I've known pilots who faced an arbitrary number, first 60 then 65, when they were told they were too old to fly for the airlines. I've also known pilots who flew safely into their 90s and the age thing never entered my mind - until it happened to me. I vaulted over 75 during the last year; apparently that makes a difference to my insurance company.
Mark Baker of AOPA and Jack Pelton of EAA have expressed concern about the insurance situation. I hope they can drill some sense into the underwriters. It's ability, experience and judgement that makes the difference, not age.
So while my ownership of the CallAir Cadet comes to a conclusion, I have no regrets for the time or the money or the care I've lavished on this airplane. It was, from the first, an orphan born of the same regard for a fine machine as mine; we were supposed to meet sooner or later and I'm glad we did.
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