“Exactly,” Patrick said. Brad shook his head in utter disbelief. “You see why doing everything possible to keep money in the company is so important?” Patrick asked. “It has nothing to do with fairness. It has nothing to do with what you or I feel I
“It still seems like you’re getting the raw end of the deal, Dad, but I think I see what you’re saying,” Brad said. He took the credit card bill from his father. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I was spending on Jet-A,” he said. “I’ll cut back on the flying.” He looked at his father. “If we have no money at the end of the month, how do you pay the credit card bill?”
“I use my Air Force retirement, and if necessary I sell some company stock,” Patrick said.
Brad looked embarrassed. “I . . . I’m sorry, Dad, but I didn’t realize you were doing that,” he said. “I’ll kick in for more of the fuel bill, and I’ll cut back on the missions.”
“A little bit less would be good,” Patrick said. “I want you to stay current and proficient, but if you can do that with, say, one or two missions a month rather than three or four, that would help.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“I’ll still help with the fuel bill, don’t worry, but a little smaller grand total on the credit card bill would be nice.” Patrick leaned forward in his chair. “This is a good time to talk about your plans for the future,” he said. “I gave you some time after you got back from the Academy to think about it. I’m happy you’ve stayed busy and productive and haven’t been sitting around idle, but what do you have in mind for what’s next?”
Brad thought for a long moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad,” he said. “I like working on the flight line, and I need to save up some cash for college, so I hadn’t really thought about it. I’m just getting into the swing of working the flight line, and I enjoy doing the Angel Flight West missions. That was keeping me plenty busy.”
“I have been thinking about it, and I have some ideas,” Patrick said. “I do have a little money in a college fund. Frankly, when you got the nomination to the Academy from President Phoenix, I stopped contributing to your college fund, so there’s not as much as I would have wanted in there, but there’s enough for four years of in-state tuition at the University of Nevada–Reno and living in the dorms—no cars, apartments, restaurants, or spring breaks in the Bahamas.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Brad said, a bright smile on his face. “That’s awesome. I was afraid I’d have to wait years to go to college.” His smile dimmed. “But I don’t know what I want to study, and classes start up in just a few weeks. I haven’t even been accepted yet.”
“You could go to the community college here in town and knock out some first-year prerequisite courses while you apply to UNR,” Patrick suggested. “Or, I had another thought.”
“Not college?”
“I think you would need advanced schooling eventually, but there’s nothing that says you need to get it right out of high school,” Patrick said. “Here’s my idea: Colonel Tom Hoffman runs a company called Warbirds Forever at Stead Airport north of Reno. It’s an aircraft repair shop, and he imports and restores all sorts of planes, but he also runs a flight school where he trains his clients in how to fly the exotic planes they buy. He trains pilots in all sorts of planes: foreign jets, restored warbirds, bizjets, commercial planes, experimentals, everything. He’s setting up a training program for us to train pilots to fly the XB-1 Excalibur and any of the other planes we might be refurbishing, like the FB-111 Aardvarks. It’s an accredited flight school, and you can use your college funds there. You can get a commercial pilot’s certificate, a flight instructor license, and get type ratings in some of the hottest jets in the world. Every imaginable plane flies in and out of that place. If you wanted, you could even get an Airframe and Powerplant mechanic and Inspector’s Authorization license there.”
“Go to flight school?” Brad exclaimed. “Sounds great! I could keep on flying!”
“And with added ratings and experience in jets, you might be able to get a flying job, maybe even right there with Warbirds Forever,” Patrick went on. “If you saved up your money, went to college, got enough flying hours, and got a business or engineering degree along with an airline transport pilot certificate, maybe you’d be hired by Sky Masters.”
“ ‘Maybe’ get hired?” Brad asked. “If you’re the COO, couldn’t you just get me in?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Patrick said. “You have to compete like all the other applicants—and in this economic climate, I get three hundred applicants for every position I advertise.”
“
“I’m not exaggerating one bit,” Patrick said. “I broke my own rules and interceded with Personnel and Dr. Kaddiri, the company president, just to get you a job parking airplanes and sweeping floors.” Dr. Helen Kaddiri was the longtime president of Sky Masters. “But along with having lots of flying experience in different machines, perhaps that mechanic’s license and a degree in business or engineering, you’d have a special advantage: everyone around here
Brad thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “It sounds great, Dad,” he said. “I still want to look into college, maybe go visit UNR, but Warbirds Forever sounds very cool.”
“I’ve already spoken with Colonel Hoffman, and he can get you started at any time,” Patrick said. “We’ll check out UNR and any other college you might be interested in. Give me your decision as soon as possible.” He paused, then said, “There are a few . . . issues.”
“Like what, Dad?”
“First of all, there’s not enough money in the college fund to get you all the way to an ATP,” Patrick said. “Colonel Hoffman is giving us a big break on the cost of the course because he’s getting a lot of work from Sky Masters, but you need fifteen hundred hours of flying time, and that’s going to take a few years unless you get hired by an airline. But you can get type ratings in a lot of jets, and if you do a lot of flying and maybe some ferrying or instructing, you can build the hours quickly. But there’s not a lot of money to pay for training in a wide variety of planes either. So you’ll have to work for Colonel Hoffman as well as be a student.”
Brad shrugged. “That sounds okay with me. Doing what?”
“Whatever Colonel Hoffman tells you to do,” Patrick said. “I imagine it’ll be a lot of the stuff you do around here—parking planes, assisting the techs, being a gofer, odd jobs, sweeping floors, fueling planes. After you get your commercial certificate, you could do flying chores for his business, like picking up other students, picking up parts, and so on. If you got your instructor’s license, you’d build hours flying students and build your hours even faster. You’ll get paid a regular salary based on your hours, but you’ll only receive about half the money—the rest will go toward reimbursing Warbirds Forever for your flying training.”
“That’s cool.”
“But remember, you’ll also be a full-time aviation student as well as a full-time worker,” Patrick warned him. “That means a regular job on top of a lot of studying and flying.”
“I can do it,” Brad said. “I had part-time jobs on top of football and high school. No sweat.”
“I think there will be a lot of sweat, son.”
“I can handle it, Dad. What other issues?”
“Warbirds Forever is an accredited school, but it doesn’t have dorms—most of Colonel Hoffman’s flight school clients are pretty wealthy and stay in hotels or apartments and rent cars, and there’s no money for any of that for you,” Patrick said. “He also doesn’t have dining halls, gyms, or recreation facilities.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Colonel Hoffman has offered to let you bunk in a storeroom in one of his hangars, rent free,” Patrick said. “I have no idea what it’s like. I’m sure you won’t have TV or much of anything else in your room, but I don’t think you’ll have much time for TV either.”
Brad was a little more reserved this time, but after a few moments, he still nodded. “I can handle it,” he said. “Just a few weeks ago I was crawling in mud over my head at Second Beast—I think I can live in a storeroom for a little while.”
“That’s the spirit,” Patrick said.
“Anything else?”
“One more thing.” Patrick paused for a moment, then said: “This is strictly between you and me, okay?”
Brad narrowed his eyes in concern, but nodded. “Sure, Dad. What?”
“Colonel Hoffman can be . . . a real Doctor Jekyll–Mister Hyde character sometimes,” Patrick said. “He’s a
