“my plane” I agree, resting my hands lightly on the yoke. I peer intently over the nose, realising that I probably should have raised my seat slightly ( a lot actually) but in this seat I’m more used to adjusting my seat so that I’m out of the way of the controls, as opposed to actually needing to reach them.
Anyway I’m in the right hand seat so my sight picture is well and truly messed up anyways. I’m in an unfamiliar plane, in the wrong seat and heading towards a plethora of airports I never knew existed, let alone have been to before.
Despite this I’m strangely calm, really not that concerned. I can see Oshawa airport in the distance. The plane is flying reasonably straight, despite my best efforts and S is more concerned with prodding his IPad than screaming in horror.
E (S’s significant other) is happily dozing on the back seat. So no criticism there either.
I’ve got the airport in sight, S is handling the radios and I’m trying to make sense of my joining instructions. I just want to ensure that I’ve got the right runway in my head. S is a patient teacher and reminds me to double check against my Heading Indicator. I appreciate the reminder but I’m having a hard time seeing the instruments.
Nothing is in the right place from this seat. The altimeter is visible enough, as is the tach. The HI is hiding and the ASI is somewhere I’m having a hard time seeing as well and I’ve only heard rumours of a turn and slip coordinator.
None of this is a major issue though. It’s probably good practice for me not to be instrument fixating.
While I’m focusing on the airport in front of me, I also spare a brief moment to marvel at how the hell instructors manage it. I mean Bob could tell when that ball was even a quarter away from the centre. I can’t even see it!
No time to worry now, I hand the plane back over to S for landing.