Whenever Carlo and I flew, I saddled him with the dreary, non-flying chores — filing flight plans, climbing onto the wing to dipstick the fuel, filling up logbooks, securing the airplane. Because he was still a student pilot, and I’m not an instructor, he never got the pleasure of landing the airplane.
He has been obsessive compulsive since he was two. There is no better personality type to do a pre-flight inspection, or to prepare a navigation plan, as he is doing in the photo.
I do wish his penmanship looked a little more like human handwriting, in the logbooks.
He complained only once. After parking at San Fernando, La Union, last December, I kicked the wheel chocks by accident. I didn’t say anything until we were several meters away across the ramp, in the cool terminal building. I pointed to the airplane.
Carlo: Wait a minute, I remember doing that! [Looking at me suspiciously] Did you kick that?
Tonet: So what if I did? The copilot is responsible for everything! I could hit a carabao on landing and it would still be your fault.
Carlo: [Muttering as he walks back across the hot ramp to reset the chocks]
Tonet: [Sitting in the shade, fanning himself, calling out] You’ll understand when you become the Captain.
Fast-forward six months later to June 16. Carlo is Pilot in Command in the left seat. He finally has his Private Pilot License! He proudly flies me as his first passenger, and I finally get to see him land the airplane. After he shuts down on the ground, I give him the aircraft logbook to fill out, as usual.
Tonet: Here, fill up the logbook.
Carlo: Wait, you want me to fill this up?
Tonet: What, you were expecting the gas boy to fill this up, maybe?
Carlo: Whatever happened to the concept of the copilot doing the paperwork when I became Pilot in Command?
Tonet: What copilot? I’m just a passenger here!
I just love flying with him. Especially now that he is the Captain.