Dave was a helicopter pilot from the Vietnam era — which is to say Dave has flown through scenarios that would scare the tar out of me. Repeatedly.
Along the way he learned to be a highly proficient pilot with nerves of steel and a head full of nuanced information that served him well over the long haul.
My first experiences flying helicopters came with Dave by my side. He was a patient instructor and a darned good stick. Calm, hyper-aware of his surroundings, and not without a bit of mischief in his soul, Dave made each of the few flights we did together a truly educational experience.
While flying along one brisk morning, our conversation shifted to our earliest aerial exploits. I asked Dave if flying helicopters at low level over a jungle filled with people who were trying to kill him was stressful. The answer seemed obvious to me. I mean, there were bullets flying and explosions occurring. It must have been a horrendous day-to-day grind.
Dave pointed out how wrong I was in the kindest, most supportive way. No, Dave wasn’t freaked out by flying helicopters low over the jungle canopy while soldiers below shot at him. He acknowledged he didn’t care for sitting in a landing zone while bullets pinged off his ride home. But he wasn’t all in a tizzy about it on a daily basis.
“I always believed I’d be okay,” Dave said. “It was the other guy who was in trouble.”
This perspective surprised me. As I considered his position I wondered that perhaps the passage of time had moderated the sense of fear my friend harbored in those moments. It was at least possible a bit of false bravado was at play in his recollections, too.
“Of course, I was young and dumb then. I was at as much risk as anyone. I just didn’t see it that way. So it didn’t worry me.”
That wasn’t the color commentary I expected. Not by a long shot. Here we were blazing along over the New England countryside in a Bell Jet Ranger with all the comforts of a modern civilian aircraft at our fingertips, and my mentor was admitting that he’d started out as a relatively stupid kid with questionable judgment.
That made him pretty much the same as me. I was no prize when I started in this business, either. And I was on a thoroughly civilian path. Nobody was shooting at me. My biggest risk was losing focus on the student sitting in the left seat.
Our students really are trying to kill us. Not out of malice or in response to a personal affront. No, they’re using their lack of experience, poor judgment, and an almost limitless quantity of ignorance to put us into an unrecoverable situation. Most of the time they’re doing reasonably well. They’re certainly trying. But every now and then…
Dave’s misplaced belief that he was safe simply because it was the other guy who was at risk got me thinking. Over time I distilled his peculiar perspective into what I can best describe as The Other Guy Syndrome.
Incident and accident reports tend to bear out my belief that far too many of us suffer from this unfortunate malady. We are not on guard to the degree we should be, even knowing that our personal safety hangs in the balance. We slide into complacency with remarkable ease.
Consider these examples.
November 2024 — N7501M
The pilot of a Cessna 175 attempted to takeoff from a road. The airplane encountered rough terrain and vegetation, which resulted in a collapse of the nose gear and subsequent inversion of the airplane. The four people on board suffered minor injuries. The aircraft was not so fortunate.
November 2024 — N2933N
While providing instruction for a tailwheel endorsement, the Cessna 140 lost directional control following a three-point landing. The CFI attempted to correct using differential braking. The tail rose up and over, causing the airplane to come to rest upside down on the runway.
The student pilot was unsure if he had pulled his feet back from the rudder pedals and brakes when the CFI took control. The airplane came away worse for the experience.
December 2024 — N5321Q
This instructional cross-country flight ended poorly after the engine lost power en route. The pilot reported he’d fueled the airplane sufficiently to give him 5.5 hours of flight time. The investigation revealed approximately one tablespoon of fuel at each drain point. The airplane was seriously damaged.
Please take note these three accidents all took place within weeks of one another. They are not aberrations. Accidents like these are neither rare nor unavoidable.
Taking off from a road is not impossible. But having sufficient space and positive control of the aircraft is essential in order to do so sagely and successfully.
Tailwheel instruction requires careful planning and a thorough understanding on the part of the student that, in times of trouble, the CFI must be given full control of the aircraft. There is no time to dawdle when removing hands and feet from the controls. A simple pre-flight verbal instruction on this point should be standard.
A Cessna 150 burns approximately 6 gallons per hour in cruise flight when properly leaned. To have 5.5 hours of endurance it would require at least 33 gallons of fuel. There is a long-range tank option that might allow for that, but it is hard to believe the weight and balance would work out for that much fuel as well as a CFI and student on board.
Three viable aircraft were heavily damaged. Pilots and passengers were put at risk. Insurance claims undoubtedly affected the rates we all pay.
And for what? No problems were solved. No time was saved. No predictable risks were avoided.
Believing a bad thing will happen to the other guy, but not to us, is folly. The bad thing is ever present. It occurs because of insufficient planning, rushed procedures, ignoring warning signs, or just plain laziness. Worst of all, it can happen to any of us — including you and me.
For the good of us all, and most especially for the good of ourselves, we should dispense with the other guy syndrome for good. Take the time to plan, to consider options, and to cancel if that’s the smart move. Or just land to take on additional fuel now and then.
It’s so much cheaper and safer in the long run to behave as if the other guy is us.
