The summer sun was now a memory as I sat on the lonely tarmac of the small Nevada, Missouri airport (I currently live in the state pronounced “Nev-aaaaa-da,” but in Missouri they pronounce this town “Nev-ay-da”). I was a student pilot on just my third solo cross-country flight, only 23 flight hours in my logbook.

The plane, a white and blue-trimmed Cessna 150, had refused to start for nearly thirty minutes as darkness was rapidly approaching from the east. The problem: I had not yet received any night flight instruction and “needed” (clarified below) to get this bird home to Springfield.

Lathered in my own sweat, the oppressive Ozarks humidity smothering me, I frantically turned the key, hoping that the tired starter had one more kick before it would give up the ghost. Already beyond my approved flight window of daylight, I turned the key one final time. The engine cranked! Decision time!!

In about ten seconds, the following raced through my mind. If I shut off the engine because it was too dark to fly, I would have to call the flight rental company (on the pay phone…no cell phones back then). I knew it was quite possible they had already left for the day (pilots were asked to leave the keys in a drop box if nobody was there to check in the aircraft). This meant that I was either stuck in Neva(y)da for the night or would have to call a friend to take a long-distance drive to pick me up. No way did I want to risk turning off the engine (after thirty minutes of cranking) to go make a phone call with the guarantee that it would be completely dark by the time I got back to the plane.

Glancing one more time at the twilight’s last gleaming (OK, I plagiarized that), I was “all in” as they say at the poker tables in Nev-aaaaa-da. I was going for it.

I hurriedly taxied to the runup area at the end of the runway as dusk had its grip on the day. After carelessly speeding through the pre-takeoff checklist, I pulled out onto the active runway, lined the nosewheel on the center line and jammed the throttle forward.

Instead of the typical surge, the Cessna began a sluggish roll down the runway, one which was 3,000 feet shorter than the length of my hometown field. Rapidly chewing up asphalt, not accelerating enough to sustain flight, I frantically scanned the aging gauges. What could be wrong? What had I missed?

At about the precise moment I would have to abort the takeoff (aka only just enough runway left to get it stopped in time) I noticed my faux pas (the proverbial a-ha moment)! After rushing through my pre-flight check, I had inadvertently left the ignition switch turned to only one magneto; this bird (and most piston-driven birds) needed both to fly! With only a football field of runway remaining, the simplest flick of the key brought the horses to life, allowing me to escape the impending clutches of the foliage beyond.

This flight was my first bout with “get-there-itis”, something most pilots will eventually encounter. This occurs when the perceived pressure to complete the flight is so great, despite hazardous circumstances, that one either succumbs to it (like I did that day as a student pilot trying to rush through the safety checklist to beat darkness…like JFK, Jr. did on the fateful night of his last flight) or decides to make a better choice by postponing (something I learned to do as a more experienced pilot, for instance, when having to cancel a flight at the complete inconvenience to my passengers due to a line of thunderstorms).

Once I reached my cruising altitude and had turned southeasterly toward Springfield, I could already pick up the city lights in the distance (the big advantage of night flying), making the rest of this adventure a walk in the park (so many cliches in this piece). While I had not yet been approved to fly at night, I discovered on that flight that I absolutely loved the serenity of night flying, a preference that stayed with me during the flying chapter of my life.

Ironically, my “official” night flight training began with my very next lesson. I am sure my instructor just thought I was a quick study.