Page 45 of The Woman in 3B
“The tail is called the empennage,” she continued. “You want to make sure all of those pieces like the rudder, elevator, and tail flaps can move freely and aren’t going to fall off mid-flight.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel secure,” I murmured while I wiggled the tail flaps up and down and moved the rudder side to side.
“Good! Time for the wings!” she chirped.
We walked together around the rear of the plane to the right wing.
“Same thing here,” she instructed.
“Make sure the flaps move but they won’t fall off?” I guessed.
She grinned broadly. “See? You’re practically a pilot.”
Under her careful tutelage, I checked the flap and aileron, the lights and wingtip, and the leading edge.
“Now climb up that step ladder and check out the top of the wing.”
I eyeballed the short ladder which was positioned close to the plane. “You’re really putting me to work.”
Hands wrapped around my waist and Anissa spun me around to face her. Her nose slid along mine and she brushed her lips against my surprised mouth.
“It’s gonna besoworth it,” she murmured against me. “I promise.”
I felt a little wobbly from her proximity. “O-okay.”
Her youthful grin returned and a firm palm found my right buttock. “Now, get up that ladder!”
I was thankful I hadn’t worn impractical shoes the day before in an effort to impress her. My canvas slip-ons tread easily up the three-step ladder and I stared across the expanse of the Cessna’s long, elevated wing.
“Check the fuel level while you’re up there,” Anissa called to me. “It’s that orange cap. It’s just like the fuel cap on your car.”
I looked down on her from my raised position. “Didn’t we just look at the fuel gauge in the cockpit?” I pointed out.
“I thought it was the flight deck,” she teased.
“Whatever.”
“We did. But you should always visually check, too, in case the internal gauge is malfunctioning. I’d hate to run out of fuel up there because of your laziness.”
“Okay! I get it!” I unscrewed the red cap, which was just like the gas cap on my car, and looked inside the opening. “We’ve got gasoline, Captain,” I confirmed.
“Ooh—Captain. No one’s ever called me that before. I think I like it,” she mused.
I hopped down the ladder rungs to solid earth. “You don’t want to be like the pilots I work with. They’re notoriously cocky.”
“Perfect. So am I.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s next on your list?”
It took a few more minutes to inspect the tires, oil levels, fuel trainer, propeller and spinner, air intakes, struts, and other mechanisms. After Anissa convinced me it was safe to fly, I climbed back into the co-pilot seat.
I buckled myself in and accepted the headset she handed me. While I double-checked on the security of my safety harness and made the headset fit snugly on my head, I heard Anissa mumbling to herself while she went through her start-up instructions. Her thoroughness put me at ease even though I was admittedly still nervous about going up in a small aircraft.
Anissa inserted a metal key into the ignition and yelled out the opened window on her side of the plane. “Clear front!”
The propeller began to spin and the engine audibly sputtered.
“Come on,” she urged the engine. Her voice was right in my ears because of the headset.
