I had passed up an airplane partnership with Roger. I was wishing for an old ragwing to fly basic aerobatics in, and he ended up buying a partially-completed Long E-Z, that sleek composite Rutan design with the engine in the back and the winglets. He was building it in his garage.

I was flying at the Aviators Club at Boeing Field, where we had a big assortment of airplanes — a Champ, a Stinson, an old wood-winged Mooney, an Ercoupe of all things. In addition to the ubiquitous Cessnas we had Pipers: an Apache, Cherokees, and, more to the point, a Tomahawk.

The Tomahawk is powered by a Lycoming O-235, the same kind of engine that Roger now possessed. He wanted to get a preview of what it would be like to operate one, after he got his airplane finished.

The flying that Roger had been doing was in Super Cubs, the glider towplanes over at Ephrata. Whether as a part of towpilot culture generally, or for some operational necessity like dropping the towrope in the right place, Roger had gotten in the habit of doing spot landings. He told me that he now had trouble landing the airplane smoothly, and felt like he couldn’t do it without using the throttle a lot.

So one sunny January afternoon we get into the Tomahawk and fly around a little and then ask the tower for some touch-and-goes, which will allow us to look at landings as well as every aspect of engine operation. For example, the low-wing Tomahawk has a fuel pump to switch on and off, unlike its Cessna rivals.

The first time we come around on final Roger’s a bit tense and the airplane seems to be feeling for the ground. The arrival is workmanlike but not satisfying, so we look forward to another try. We add power, climb out, turn crosswind.

On downwind: carburetor heat, a first power reduction, the usual checklist (now including the pump), a turn to base leg when it looks about right, roll out on final to find, and adjust, the end of our glide path. Once assured of the threshold, we have 3700 feet of runway to play with.

An approach is the problem of the intersection of a line and a surface. The normal landing, though, is a search for an asymptote, an exercise in denying that convergence. Your typical airplane is capable of flying through the air, and of rolling on the ground; but when these two functions overlap, awkwardness may result. However, if you fly along an inch above the runway, without engine power, the aircraft will eventually lose its will to fly, and will touch the ground at that same instant. There are plenty of ways to make this transition difficult, but one way to make it easy.

This time around, on short final and power-off, I calmly say, “I’ve got the throttle,”  Roger’s right hand moves away, but I do not stir. I imagine him becoming restless.

But it’s pretty much like in the beginning now, just me and Roger in a glider. Only this time, I’m the one who says, “Eyes on the far end of the runway.” And everything falls into place. Pretty much literally.

“Guess you know who taught me that,” I explain.

Roger beams recognition.

I chuckle to indicate my gratitude for the thousand hours I’ve spent in the sky since that day.

Time to add power for the takeoff. What more need be said?

Just one thing: “Your airplane.”

We were off.