For decades I flew the Boeing 767. The Airbus? A different language entirely. At 64, I’d never touched one.
The whispers started almost immediately:
“Even younger pilots struggle with it.”
“At your age, it’s too much.”
“He won’t make it through.”
And for a moment, I almost believed them.
Training was brutal — 7,000 pages of manuals, endless nights of study, weeks inside simulators that tested every ounce of focus. The exams were relentless. It was, without question, the hardest program of my career.
But I passed. Not because it was easy. But because age hadn’t dulled me. My mind, my discipline, my will — they were every bit as strong as they’d been three decades earlier.
That cockpit taught me something deeper than aviation: age is not an expiration date for learning, adapting, or excelling.
We don’t all run on the same clock. And capability doesn’t vanish just because the candles on the cake increase.
So don’t count yourself — or anyone else — out too soon. Sometimes, the final stretch of your runway is where you prove you were flying at your best all along. 🛫✨