I look back fondly but with a clear eye at my flight training way back in the 1970s, done high or not so high above the Joshua trees, sandy basins and rough crumbling granite ridges of the American southwest, which still looks pretty much the same. It’s vast. For me, the training was not all about getting a license or getting a job but merely about getting to fly solo. That was my goal. It still kind of is. I don’t think I’m alone in this.
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