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The Question Already Answered

Many times in your flying career, even if while on the wing, your most focused objective is comprised of nothing more then Sunday afternoons chasing clouds hither and yon, you will have to make decisions. Most will be simple ones, such as making sure to lean the mixture at cruising altitude, not adding full flaps during that crosswind landing, perhaps deciding to land at an intermediate airport when the fuel gauges begin reading lower than you expected during a cross-country flight, or deciding that you aren’t going to fly up to that business meeting today because of a much bigger drop in rpm on that left mag, when you did your run-up.

Okay so maybe they won’t all be easy. That’s actually my point. Not to seem sepulchral here, but ironically, it was John Lennon who once said ‘Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.’ And in aviation, even the most carefree Sunday morning pancake hunters are someday going to have to make a decision about something that won’t go away just because they aren’t thinking about it. It’s inevitable (if you fly for any appreciable time at all) probably because moving around in three dimensions takes the care and effort that it does, since you were born with arms, and not wings, and once you’re up there a bit, you soon see how negligence, incompetence, and neglect all tend to be rather non-habit forming.

An airline captain once recounted a situation in which he was taxiing to the departure end of the runway and his first officer was agonizing over whether to abide by company policy of taking off with reduced thrust, to go easier on both the fuel and the engines. The penalty for this not surprisingly would be an increased take-off roll as well as stopping distance, had they needed to abort the takeoff. The reason this was such a dilemma was because things suddenly were no longer cut and dry—literally; that is to say, the runway was damp. Both knew that the policy of reduced thrust did not apply during conditions of wind shear, or when the runway surface was contaminated by snow, ice, or rain. But it was only damp, you see. What did they decide?

In this case, the right answer was elicited by a simple question from the captain, which was: ‘What would you say at the hearing?’ In our case, the metric with which we might second-guess fate would be to imagine having to do a rug dance in front of the FAA (rather than the NTSB) at a FSDO inquisition. Ah, the blessings of a good imagination.

To begin from beyond the fringe of the most neurotically overcautious, a phobia-ridden pilot might decide never to leave the ramp when the runway is wet. That’s one solution, but it’s not realistic. Many decisions are indeed no-brainers, but some, as they say, try men’s souls. No, the right approach is something I learned early in my flight training, called the conservative response rule. When faced with a decision that has alternatives, one of which will put you back on the ground, inconvenience you, disappoint someone who is waiting in another state, cost more money, compromise your reputation, besmirch your family name (well, it might seem that bad, although it almost never is), picking the alternative that involves not flying, being late, or spending more money (or someone else’s) is usually the right choice. If intimidation by implication isn’t your cup of tea, look at it this way. I call it the ‘long’ view: the cancelled appointment, the forsaken lunch, the extra night in a hotel, the missed deadline; who will care or even remember in five years? Remember, it’s better to be late in this world than early in the next.

You may be thinking something along the lines of ‘Okay, that was nice, but if I wanted homilies, I’d pick up a copy of Readers Digest.’ And I’d agree. So let’s take a few real world examples:

 

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