Flying Across the Golden Era of General Aviation

Looking back at the 1990s, I realize how privileged I had been as a general aviation pilot in the United States. Those years offered an unparalleled combination of affordability, freedom, and adventure that seems almost unimaginable today. Flying cross-country was not just a practical means of travel; it was a way to explore the vast, varied landscapes of America, from the deserts of Nevada to the forests of Michigan, all while immersing myself in the local aviation culture. In that era, flying was still dirt cheap compared to European standards. I vividly remember staying in motels for as little as eighteen dollars a night, indulging in all-you-can-eat buffets for under three dollars, and taking advantage of free ground transportation offered by casinos between Las Vegas and Laughlin.

Many small airports catered generously to GA pilots, often going beyond what the formal policies dictated. In Northern Nevada, along a typical route from San Francisco to Salt Lake City via Reno, Winnemucca, Battle Mountain, Elko, and West Wendover, FBOs provided free beds, showers, lounges, and even crew cars. These amenities were often intended for corporate pilots, but GA pilots were welcomed with remarkable generosity. At some airports, you could even camp on the grounds, a practice considered normal among pilots. I recall an Albuquerque FBO where the demeanor of the staff could completely change the experience: one shift would be curt and unhelpful, restricting access to beds, while the next shift could be warm and accommodating, allowing full use of the facilities. Even the smallest gestures, like letting a tired pilot rest indoors, made a significant difference during long cross-country flights.

I remember flying from Brackett Field Airport in California to Laughlin, Nevada, on one of my brief trips to the Grand Canyon, Lake Powell, and Monument Valley, where I once landed just for breakfast. Those day flights were exhilarating: soaring over deserts, canyons, and rivers, and landing at small airports where pilots were treated like part of a close-knit community. The generosity of FBOs and local staff allowed us to experience these remote and breathtaking landscapes without the constraints of commercial travel.

One particularly memorable group trip along Interstate 80 in 1995 involved several private pilots, mainly from Germany and Switzerland, flying from Fairfield, Iowa, through Colorado, Arizona, Utah, Nevada, Northern California, and back via Salt Lake City, Wyoming, Colorado, Nebraska, and Iowa. The trip was part adventure, part training, and fully immersive in the spirit of general aviation. Flying with other pilots created a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose, and the long cross-country legs allowed us to explore regions that few tourists ever saw.

During my commercial pilot training a year later, I conducted three long cross-country trips that further expanded my horizons. One journey took me to all four corners of the contiguous United States and into Canada - Vancouver, Toronto, Niagara Falls, New York, down the East Coast to Florida, including Miami and Key West. Another trip in a Piper Seneca carried us from Brackett all the way to Washington, D.C., and Halifax, Canada, and back. These flights were intense and demanding, but the experience of seeing the continent from the air and landing in such diverse locations was unforgettable.

Of course, not all experiences were easy or generous. Million Air at Teterboro treated GA pilots as lowly drifters, whereas the same brand at St. Louis welcomed us warmly. Some FBO staff were rigid or rude, such as at Crestview, Florida, where we were denied camping on the airport grounds and had no ride to a nearby motel, forcing us to fly through violent summer thunderstorms to reach Mobile, Alabama. Yet these exceptions only reinforced the contrast with the overwhelming majority of FBOs, whose staff were friendly, helpful, and truly understood the needs of pilots. In Michigan, I encountered a small airport where the terminal building had combination locks. If unattended, pilots could use published codes to enter, rest safely, and continue their journeys without disruption.

Flying in those days was a deeply communal experience, shaped as much by the human element as by regulations. The majority of students and instructors at flight schools were foreigners, taking advantage of the extraordinarily low costs and extensive flying opportunities. More than ninety percent of the students in the schools where I trained and worked were international, coming from Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and South America. For locals, flying was still considered an expensive dream, but for international students, it was a chance to train, build hours, and experience the freedom of the American skies. GA pilots like us could take day trips to breathtaking places like Lake Powell, the Grand Canyon, or small towns with little tourism, all while benefiting from generous FBOs and affordable local infrastructure.

The 1990s were truly a golden era of general aviation, a time when flying was accessible, adventurous, and supported by a community that valued camaraderie as much as commerce. The human kindness of FBO staff, the affordability of training and travel, and the sheer freedom to explore vast stretches of America created experiences that were not just about aviation, but about discovery, resilience, and the joy of the open sky. Looking back, I realize that the privileges I enjoyed then - affordable accommodations, generous amenities, and the ability to traverse the country freely - are a rare combination that defined a unique chapter in the history of GA. Those years remain an enduring testament to a spirit of generosity, adventure, and community that is increasingly rare today.