Local unemployment in Palo Alto took me to the English midlands around 1970, where ICL, the only surviving computer company other than IBM offered me a job. Many years as a private pilot had culminated in my not only qualifying to fly by instruments alone, but to teach this skill.

During my eight years in England, I gave up the idea of flying. I was not only thirty miles south of the nearest airport, but had just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. I had no idea of what hoops the British air authorities might put me through.

Back here in Palo Alto, my wife got a job teaching math at a community college. She was the replacement for a math teacher who had just been hired by United Airlines as a co-pilot. One day, as the fortunes of United sunk, she was furloughed. Now, her problem was finding a job that she could quit on a moment’s notice. That is: if United called her on a Friday and said to report to work on Monday, that was not negotiable. She found such a job piloting a Boeing 747 simulator at nearby NASA Ames.

That is how I got an invitation to ride co-pilot in that simulator for a 30-minute flight. My wife and a couple of programmers were sitting behind us. The simulated view through the windshield was of a night scene, hence was very realistic.

Marylin gave me a quick run-down of my duties as co-pilot. I was to call off critical airspeeds as we raced down the runway, and then, once she had stablized the climb, she would turn over control to me. She told me later that she was surprised how well I did, the aircraft being so different from a light plane and my being eight years out of practice. What I noted was the inertia of the beast. Once I had the nose moving slightly upward, I had to apply opposite pressure on the controls to make it stop swinging. It was just like the difference between sailing a dinghy and a thirty-five foot boat.

When we reached cruising altitude, she took over the controls. Eventually she said: “We’re landing there.” I looked down and saw that tiny postage-stamp of an airfield. I was incredulous. I thought that if I was flying a Piper Tripacer, which had all the flight characteristics of a lead brick, I might just be able to make that airport without circling if I cut the power and applied full flaps.

To my amazement, she easily lost all that altitude and landed in what was a simulation of the airport at Santa Barbara. A programmer behind me asked: “Did we crash?” and Marilyn responed: “No. We still have some runway in front of us.” My first thought was: “Jesus. We’re in Santa Barbara. How the hell are we going to get home?”

I was in a daze for the next few days, reliving that vivid experience.