There is a common expression that deserves close scrutiny: Dream big.
As a motivational phrase, it’s excellent. Without dreams the potential of the life we live is reduced. It’s drab and repetitive. Unsatisfying in many ways.
Of course, if we dream big, we will fail big too. Nobody wins every time. The likelihood of a loss or a failure increases with the size and scope of the dream.
Yet it is worth the effort to try. Because we know for sure that without risk there can be no reward. And it is the reward we dream of that spurs us on.
When I was a low-time not particularly dedicated student pilot, I became enamored of the North American T-28. A brute of a training aircraft, the T-28’s production run was over by the time I was born. Put another way, the airplane is older than I am.
The T-28 has a tricycle gear configuration. Being a trainer, it has two seats in a tandem arrangement. The powerplant is a big, round, muscular beast known as the Pratt & Whitney R-1820 Cyclone.
Nine cylinders produced anywhere from 575 to 1,525 hp depending on which variant of the powerplant was being used. That’s nearly a tripling of power output over the 20-plus years the engine was being produced.
In Hartford, Connecticut, at Brainard Field, just across the river from the Pratt & Whitney factory where that engine was built, there was a T-28 that I would see zipping down the runway from time to time. It had the classic look. A mostly white fuselage accented by large orange squares on the wingtips, which also adorned the forward half of the vertical stabilizer and surrounding that beautiful round nose.
It became a goal of mine to fly the T-28. I had no idea how I might make that happen, but I knew early on in my aviation career that a seat in the T-28 was in my future.
This belief was bolstered considerably when I moved to Florida to attend a big-time flight school. My primary and instrument CFI was a fine young man from the Chicago area who taught me well. As we grew to know each other better, trust each other, and become actual friends, I found that he had lived my dream. He had flown a T-28 owned by a friend of his father.
If he can do it, I can do it, I reasoned. It’s just a matter of time.
More recently a new but valued friend recently confided in me that he would not be making the aeronautical trek from New England to Florida this spring as he’d planned. He’s never been to SUN ‘n FUN. He made plans, secured an airplane, found other pilots to travel with, and generally built his short-term future around the excitement and drama of making his first 1,000-mile cross-country flight — an experience made even more magical by the fact that he’d be attending an event he’s dreamed of being a part of for some time now.
Now, he realizes he won’t be making that trip. Not this year. Disappointment has set in.
Setbacks are going to happen. A lot, unfortunately. How we handle the challenges we face is a big part of what defines us as individuals.
My friend is resigned to the fact that his plans aren’t going to work out this time. But the future is unknown. He’s young. A few decades younger than I am, anyway. There is still time. Opportunities will come his way. Adventures he hasn’t even considered yet await him in the future.
He knows all that to be true. So rather than being bereft of an opportunity, his dream of flying to Florida for SUN ‘n FUN is merely delayed. And as anyone involved in aviation on any level knows, delays are part of the deal. Eventually we manage to get where we’re going anyway.
As for me and my dream of flying a North American T-28, that hasn’t happened yet either. Nearly 40 years after discovering and becoming infatuated with that amazing airplane, I have yet to drop the flaps, climb up on the wing, slip into a seat, and take the controls.
Am I despondent over this? Do I cry myself to sleep at night for failing to achieve a goal I set so long ago? Not at all. I’m still here. The chance to fly again is very real for me.
And the T-28 is more of a viable dream now than it ever was. I know more pilots, more aircraft owners, and can actually afford to buy enough 100LL to make the flight without having to mortgage everything I own.
Flying the T-28 isn’t the whole story, though. I’ve gotten to fly more types of aircraft than I could have imagined when I started this whole thing back on Brainard Field. Land planes, seaplanes, taildraggers, singles, twins, certificated, and experimental aircraft and even helicopters have all found a line or two in my logbook.
Am I disappointed? A bit, sure. But I’m not out of the game yet. My chance may still come. As could my young friend’s ability to make that journey to SUN ‘n FUN — and your dream to do whatever lights your fire.
We may be disappointed from time to time. But have we failed? Not hardly.
Dreams only transition into the failure category when we quit trying. As long as we’re still on the path, still trying, still hoping to make that dream come true, we’re winning.
At least that’s how I see it.
