Why I Fly Young Eagles

by Michael Mahoney, EAA 620992
On Sunday, October 6, at Boire Field Airport (ASH), in Nashua, New Hampshire, I had another of those experiences that reminded me why I fly EAA Young Eagles, and just how blessed I am.
Although late for Chapter 336's Young Eagles rally, I still managed to fly three "Eagle missions" in a Cessna 152. My first Young Eagle was 10 years old and sharp as a tack. He did the preflight with me and asked tons of questions, all of them excellent. When we were listening to the ATIS and he saw me setting the altimeter, he said, "Oh, so that's like a barometer." An amazing little guy.
The second Eagle was a young lady, 13 years old and quiet. "Do you want to know anything about the plane?" I asked.
"No thanks."
But from the moment we started taxiing, she kept her hands lightly on the yoke, following me. I let her. When we were in the air and trimmed for level flight, I asked if she wanted to try controlling the plane.
"Okay."The kid was a natural, so I gave her some basic direction, and she was off and running. She basically flew the box. I let her stay hands-on until we were over the fence, and then I had her put her hands in her lap. After we landed and I asked what she thought.
"Great."
Then we walked to her parents and she was transformed. "Mom! Dad! I flew the plane! Yup! I steered it and EVERYthing! First I flew by the mall! Then I aimed right at a lake! And then...."
She talked nonstop for about 10 minutes before anyone else got a word in. Her mother said, "She's been talking about taking flying lessons some day; now she'll really be pushing!"
Mission accomplished.
Doug was my last Young Eagle. As good as the first two flights were, Doug made my day. It was almost 3 p.m. (when the rally was scheduled to end)  so it looked like I was through for

the day, when a woman and her two kids came up. "My daughter says she's too afraid to go, so I guess it will only be my son," she said.
Doug was a little tiny bit of a thing, all freckles and glasses and carrying a stuffed seal (Andre) that was almost as big as him. I was surprised he was flying at all because he looked quite a bit younger than 8. As it turns out he was 10 and a half. I took a closer look and wondered if he'd been sick. No one said anything about illness, but I noted his hair was thin and wispy.
Mom asked if the seal could go too because "He keeps his seal with him everywhere he goes-it's his best friend."
"Sure," I said, "Andre can come."
We got Doug and Andre buckled in (the seal rode up front), and we started up. Doug had questions about all the instruments, and he particularly liked hearing the tower and all the other planes on the headset that dwarfed his head. We flew a right-hand box off of Runway 14, so as we climbed out over the Veteran's Memorial Bridge, I started the tour and discovered that Doug lived in Nashua, right near the Crisp School. So I told him he might see some things he recognized.
"Ever been to the Pheasant Lane Mall?" I asked.
"No, we don't go out much because we don't have any money," Doug replied. Not a whine, just a simple statement of fact. Like "The sky is blue." Ten-year-old kids should not have to understand stuff like that, and it really hit me.
I flew the downwind leg blinking back tears

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