Large Marge’s stall story:
For the duration of my lessons (four months), I was stuck with this little 1963 Cessna 150, held together with rubberbands and duct tape (kidding about the rubberbands). I was part of the 141 program, which meant that I had to follow a syllabus very closely, doing my first solo at 10 hours and then practicing specific maneuvers at certain points in my training.
My instructor was this neurotic red-headed Texan, who, incidentally, was TERRIFIED of power-on stalls. So every time we went up to do them, she would get tense. Her voice got wavery, her eyes got big, she had the yolk in a death grip. Nice qualities in a flight instructor, hu?
Needless to say, when I went out on my first solo (not the takeoffs and landings solo, but out into the practice area) and began my power-on stalls, I was nervous.
In previous power-on stall maneuvers with my instructor, my little 150 ALWAYS stalled to the right, and I was always ready with left rudder. We practiced this maneuver probably 15 times before my first solo. It always responded the same way.
The day of my solo, I flew into the practice area, made sure I was at 3,500 feet agl, and then began to pull the nose of the plane up to stall it. It seemed to take forever - I felt completely vertical - but it finally stalled - TO THE LEFT.
Turns out, when the instructor and her big butt weren’t sitting on the right side of the plane, it stalled the other way, but what did I do in a pure reflex action? I kicked in left rudder.
So here’s the scenario: I’m full throttle, stalled, pointed straight at the ground, only 10 hours of flying time on the books, and IN A SPIN.
Thank GOD I made sure I was at 3,500 feet.
It seemed like FOREVER before I snapped out of it, but it was probably more like 6 or 7 seconds. I kicked in right rudder. I dipped the nose and got wind going over the wings. By then, though, there were so many Gs on the plane that I couldn’t just pull the yolk back; I had to lean forward, put both arms behind the yolk at a 90 degree angle and PULL REALLY HARD.
As I did, I looked out over the left wing and I could see it BOWING under the pressure. After a few seconds, I finally managed to pull it level.
I caught my breath. I looked at the altimeter. I had lost 800 feet and spun around 2 1/2 times. And in all the chaos I’d forgotten to take the power off; it was still at full throttle.
I was supposed to do another 30 minutes of maneuvers. Yeah, RIGHT.