Every flight instructor hammers the same order into a new pilot’s head: Aviate, Navigate, Communicate. It’s not just a catchy phrase—it’s the hierarchy that keeps pilots safe. First, fly the airplane. Second, know where you are and where you’re going. Only after those two are handled do you click the mic. Radios matter, but they come third for a reason.
For new pilots, that order can feel upside down. The airplane might be trimmed out, the GPS is doing the navigating, but the real nerves set in when it’s time to key the mic. “Radio fear” is real. Most of us have been there—swapped letters, twisted words, or worse, stepped on someone. Who has time for a meow? After a few weather-grounded weeks, even seasoned pilots can get rusty and feel that fear creeping back.
My young pilot, taking lessons simultaneously in a Cessna 172 and a non electric Piper PA-11 (at Flying Oaks Airpark) knows the feeling. You’ve read about him here before. This week, after a two-hour morning flight, he flopped down on the floor, stared at the ceiling fan, and declared with a deep sigh: “I’m getting good at radios.”
That’s no small milestone. We live rural—really rural. Around here, you can fly thirty minutes before hearing any chatter. But he’s now driving an hour to Abilene for lessons with Lytle Aviation. Abilene is a Class C airport, with regional jets, military traffic, and GA all mixed together. It’s not the busiest airport in the country, but for a young pilot used to quiet skies, the chatter can feel overwhelming.
Still, he’s handling it. Stumbling through the uh’s, sure—but also managing to call in hot ahead of a King Air, dump all three notches of flaps, pull the power, and still get the words out on the freek. That’s progress. That’s confidence in the making.
And maybe the confidence is contagious. This week, Erickson Aero Tanker’s MD-80 and Henry’s Air Service’s Air Tractor were staged at our local airport for firefighting ops. The crews let him climb in the cockpits for a tour, and the next day he was scheming to head back—maybe to offer to clean hoppers or wipe windshields, maybe just to hang out with airplanes and pilots. (Or maybe to avoid that English essay waiting on his homeschool roster.)
Either way, the kid’s got flying in his bones. Whether it’s from his dad’s influence or just the way he was wired, I can’t say. But watching him wrestle with radios and win? That’s just as exciting as any solo; and the powered solo is likely next week.
If you want to follow along with his adventures, check out his Instagram: @paperairman.