My instructor flight test was in two weeks. I meant to study. Class One candidates were required, "to demonstrate an above average standard of instruction in all levels of licencing." That translated into, "the inspector could ask you to teach him anything about flight training and you had better be good."

A couple of evenings at home I fell asleep on the chesterfield with the instructor book in my lap. My wife woke me up to go to bed.

"Why don't you take a day off and study?" she asked.

"We're too busy," I replied. "Besides, according to Henry, the flight test is a formality. I'll get the Class One based on my good record."

The big day arrived and with it my worst nightmare, Department of Transport Inspector Kennedy. The man was my nemesis. He dressed like an undertaker but didn't smile as much. He was a hard, miserable man who specialized in bringing out the worst in flight test candidates. I had endured several flights with this man and during each one I had done something stupid to lower his opinion of me. I had gotten lost on a Class Two Instructor ride and shut down the good engine on my initial Multi-Engine Rating flight test.

When he walked through our door, I wanted to blurt out, "Where's that nice Inspector Donaldson who’s going to give me a Class One Instructor Rating over a cup of coffee?" but I knew it wouldn't do any good. I pretended to be pleased to see him. He didn't return the favour.

"Good morning sir," I said, offering my hand. "Thank you for coming."

"You should know that the department personnel cannot afford the time to conduct unnecessary flight tests," he declared with a scowl chiseled into his face. He ignored my outstretched hand.

"This is a Class One upgrade ride, sir," I said hopefully.

"Everyone waits until their Class Two is due for renewal before attempting this test," Kennedy said.

"My mistake, sir," I replied, but I didn't offer to postpone it for a year. I should have. "Would you like a coffee, sir?"

"No, I don't drink coffee. It's unhealthy," he declared. "Do you realize that there are only 63 Class One Instructors in the country right now?

"No, sir, I did not know that."

He was telling me that he did not agree with the way his boss was handing out Class One Instructor Ratings like good-behavior badges. I knew then that I was wasting my time taking this test. More importantly to him, I was wasting his time.

"Over 50 of those Class One Instructors are government inspectors," he added.

He pompous attitude was bugging me.

"All good people, I'm sure," I said, "like yourself, sir."

"And the rest of them," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "have applications into the government to become inspectors."

"Well sir, we might as well see if I'm qualified to join such an illustrious group. What would you like me to teach first?"

"Give me the pre-flight briefing for the dual cross-country," Kennedy said. "Assume that I have not taken any ground school classes."

He had just sentenced me to three hours of hard work. I bit my tongue to squeeze the sarcasm from my voice and dug in. I outlined the route and the objectives of the lesson. Every time I tried to move along, Kennedy stopped me with a technical question.

"What does Transverse Mercator mean?"

"It's the type of projection that was used to represent a round globe on a flat piece of paper."

"Explain the differences between that projection and the ones used on other aeronautical charts."

"As a Private Pilot student, you don't have to know that, sir," I said. I tried to inject respect into my reply but it didn't come out.

"Right, but as a Class One Instructor, you do, so explain it to me."

When I asked him to do some of the planning like a student, he said, "You show me."

The three hours stretched into four.

During a break for lunch, Kennedy sat in his government car. I ate my bologna sandwich in the office and fumed.

"The man is a career assassin," I muttered to Leanne. "What happened to the concept of public servants?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's just doing his job," she replied hopefully.

"Right. He's promoting aviation safety," I said. "The safest pilot is the one on the ground without a licence."

Kennedy came back in and we finished the crosscountry briefing.

"Now brief me on the first lesson on instrument flying."

I thought I detected smugness in his voice but it didn't show on his granite face.

"You can assume that I haven't read the textbook," he added.

Kennedy made me explain the function of each instrument in the cockpit. When I reached the gyro attitude indicator, he asked what caused acceleration error.

"It's only a problem on fighter jets being catapulted off aircraft carriers," I said. I was unable to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

"Some of your students will go on to fly high-performance aircraft," he snapped back. "Do you know the explanation or not?"

I launched into the complicated gyro theory as best I could remember it from when I first learned to instruct. I sounded rusty. Kennedy made me teach it all.

Illustration by Francois Bougie

We went flying in one of the Cherokee 140s. Kennedy told me to teach a short field takeoff over an obstacle followed by a departure on the crosscountry that I had planned.

"Assume this is my first time and demonstrate each lesson," he said gruffly.

I let his miserable attitude affect my flying. I did a slam, bang, bad job. Twenty minutes into the crosscountry, he pulled the throttle to idle. "Show me how you teach a simulated forced approach."

There was nothing below but a sea of fruit trees. I pushed the throttle back in. "I would do some safety checks before starting the lesson," I said, looking around for an open field.

Kennedy pulled the power back. "Show me what you would do if your engine really failed right here."

I flew an approach to a farm lane between the trees. I would have made it but it would have been tight. The airplane would have been damaged. Kennedy reapplied the power at 500 feet above ground.

"I have control," he barked. "Put the hood on."

"I don't wear the hood when I'm instructing," I said firmly, "the student does." I held the hood out for him to wear.

He kept both hands on the controls. "I want to see if you can fly the airplane on instruments from the right seat for when you run into bad weather with a student. Wear the hood!"

I slipped the hood over my head. While I was doing that, Kennedy reefed the Cherokee into a series of left and right steep climbing turns trying to induce vertigo.

"You have control," he yelled a few seconds later.

I had taught unusual attitude recoveries from less violent manoeuvers so I knew what to look for but my return to a normal climb involved some initial over-controlling. Kennedy then covered half the flight instruments with rubber suction cups and asked me to turn to a specific heading in the climb using only an altimeter, turn coordinator, airspeed indicator and compass. None of this tested my ability to teach. He was just making me angry.

We covered most of the Commercial Pilot Course. He made me do all the talking and the flying. We finished up with a short field landing demonstration back at the airport. I slammed the airplane on the runway, dumped the flaps and hauled on the brakes. It was short but not very sweet.

If I was being marked for my attitude, then I was probably going to lose my pilot licence. The best I could hope for was being busted back to a Class Four Instructor which meant that I would lose my Chief Flying Instructor and Flight Test Examiner status.

I shut down the airplane, climbed out and followed Kennedy into the office. He didn't say a word. We took a table on the far side of the room.

"Well," he said, pulling out his licence pad. "I didn't see any improvement over your last Class Two flight test so I'm not going to give you a Class One. Just so we didn't waste our time, I'll renew your Class Two. That will give you two years to hone those instructing and flying skills."

"Thank you, thir," I said through clenched teeth.

It was a lie. I wasn't thankful at all.

Kennedy completed the paperwork. "I understand your partner is a Class One Instructor," he said.

"Yes thir, he is."

"Well maybe he'll spend some time giving you pointers before that next flight test."