One of the most elegant bits of flying instruction I ever did took place before I had a certificate.

It was a typical day at Issaquah Soaring — calm with plenty of visibility but cool and gray enough to keep away prospective customers . Roger said, “Why don’t you and Tamara go fly?”

I readily agreed.  This was at the end of my summer of flying commercial rides. A couple hundred times I had offered a passenger the chance to take the controls from me, and I had started to think about becoming an instructor.

Tamara was already capable of doing the takeoff and flying the glider on tow.  This aerial ballet consists largely of just pointing the nose at the towplane, 200 feet ahead, and matching its bank angle; but when the towplane turns, both aircraft are flying tangent to the same circle, and you end up aiming at its outside wingtip instead of its tail.

Tamara’s tendency was constantly to point slightly toward one wingtip — and always the same one. She was anticipating the turn, like a good pilot might, only more so. I knew immediately what to do.

Years later I saw one of those reality-tv shows where the drama is about somebody facing a difficult task. This one was about an applicant for the U.S. Army’s Parachute Demonstration Team, the Golden Knights. Training progressed to the point where the candidate, in a vertical wind tunnel (you should try this yourself by the way), was expected to hang motionless, without turning. He  was never able to keep from drifting slowly counter-clockwise, and was made to leave the program. I could have solved this guy’s problem in half a dozen words, but the Army types never figured it out (or did not want to see him pass).

Out on the grassy runway there was time for a little chat — not with Tamara, but with the tow pilot. I asked that on the next flight he make all turns to the right. There are a number of factors, customary, practical or regulatory, that influence airplane pilots to favor left-hand turns. Apparently, Tamara had never seen a right-hand turn while on tow before. Making the first one instantly dispelled the left-turn only curse.

Going straight sounds like the opposite of turning, but it’s actually the ability to turn either direction. I had not, as our friend Greg would say, cured her of her inability to fly; but I had successfully made and confirmed my first diagnosis.