Part 2: Spreading my wings
The plane jolted up and down, then rocked from side to side.
I held the controls with an iron grip, my knuckles probably white underneath my mittens. I tried to keep the wings even with the horizon and the nose steady, but maybe my hands were shakier than I thought.
Then pilot Gerry Thompson, sitting next to me on the right side of the Cessna 150, told me he often hits turbulence in that airspace.
“As long as that’s not me,” I said, relaxing a little.
“We’ve climbed 300 feet,” he said, pointing to the altimeter.
So much for keeping the nose on the skyline.
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