Flying, testosterone, and risk

THE CRASH at yesterday's Reno Air Show was horrific. The death toll stands at 9. Determining the cause of the tragedy will take many months. But today, aviation writer Clive Irving ventured forth and asked what we're all quietly thinking: "What was a 74-year-old pilot doing in a souped-up World War II fighter flying in an air race?" By all accounts, the late Jimmy Leeward, the P-51's pilot, was in good physical shape. He reportedly passed his last medical flight exam, but we don't know when he did so. Was it last month or two years ago? (Leeward presumable held a Class 3 medical certificate required for recreational pilots. They're good for 24 months for pilots over 40, per the FAA.)

Competition flying at Reno, the only air race of its kind in the US (per the AP), is inherently dangerous. It's flying by the seat of one's pants on steroids. Hurtling through the air while pulling high-G turns at over 400 mph and 50 feet above the tarmac is not for the faint of heart ― or the butterfingered. It requires lightning-quick reflexes and perfect stick-and-rudder control. There is virtually no room for error. The reward for mechanical failure or pilot misjudgment is death in a nanosecond. Since 1972, 19 pilots ― reputedly among the best of the best ― have been killed at the Reno races, including four in 2007 and 2008. And as sure as tomorrow's sunrise, more pilots will die in the future. It is the nature of the beast, and no amount of the proverbial "right stuff" can ever tame it.

It's probable that Leeward ― an expert pilot of long experience and no fool ― was completely up to the task of racing at Reno, even at age 74. But as Irving said, "It beggars belief." Long life exacts its toll on all of us despite our human penchant to deny it. And the older we get, the more prone we are to sudden health problems. It's only a question of when, not if. Yes, there are sprite senior citizens who can crank out a Dostoyevsky-quality novel and maybe swim the English Channel, too. And many can and do competently take to the skies. But it's one thing to putter about in Cessna. It's an entirely different matter to go gunning for the "outside of the envelope" in a warplane. Is it reasonable, then, to allow a pilot of 74 to race a 67-year-old Mustang and push it (and himself) to the limit in a high-stress air race ― all for the sake of glory, prize money and spectator thrills? Indeed, is it even reasonable (or responsible) to race vintage aircraft that are nearly as old as their pilots? Is it worth the risk?

Tom Rose, a commercial pilot, told the AP that his dad died racing at the same Reno event in 2002 under eerily similar circumstances. "He ... just pushed his plane beyond its limits in an effort to win, and it broke apart," Rose said. No one else was hurt in the crash. But many pilots still think it's worth the risk: "They'd rather go this way than in a nursing home," Rose said. On some level I can appreciate the sentiment. Most of us would prefer what Native Americans call a "good dying." But in the case of racing pilots, the potential for collateral damage from augering in gloriously is, to me, too high. Only luck and perhaps quick thinking by Leeward prevented a larger catastrophe at Reno.

It is no secret that pilots, especially the fighter-jock/racer variety, are a breed apart. Many live in what author Tom Wolfe called the "righteous zone." Flying high and fast above it all, they look down and pity "those poor souls ... trudging out of their minute rectangles and inching along their little noodle highways toward whatever slots and grooves make up their everyday lives ... all those millions of sleepwalking souls who never even attempted the great gamble," Wolfe wrote in The Right Stuff. "Only at this point can one begin to understand just how big, how titanic, the ego of the [pilot] could be." That probably helps to explain why pilots like Leeward do what they do. Risk-taking is a rush.

There's an old adage among military pilots: "There are old pilots and bold pilots, but no old, bold pilots." I hope Mr. Leeward didn't just prove its validity. May he and the others rest in peace.