I get my wake-up call just in time for AM Weather, in the hope that every last bit of information I absorb might be of value. I deliberately scheduled the cab for 7:30, so I'd be rushed. I check out of the hotel, luggage and bicycle go into the cab, and its down to the airport. I preflight the plane, get my Jepps in order, and stuff everything in my flight bag, assuming that the examiner will do the oral portion of the exam in his office. Now that this is all done, I have about 45 minutes to kill, which I will in the spiffy pilot's lounge here, drinking coffee, studying, and worrying.

The appointed time arrives, and the FBO I'm parked at offers to drive me over to the examiner's office. I arrive just as he does, and we sit down and talk. The oral goes almost as a casual chat - we fill out the forms and talk about approaches. I pull out my Jepps and he asks a few questions. He makes it clear early on that he's not particularly interested in whether I've memorized the FARs - the purpose of this trip will be to see if I'm safe and competent up there. We launch - left turn out, and the hood goes on at 1000 feet. Inbound to that same radio station I'd used with John. You know something - I don't even remember what was on the radio this time. Track inbound - I do well. Intercept and track outbound - I stumble, but get it together. I call up Manchester (he asks me to do it, rather than him doing it for me). We get one ILS that goes fairly well, and I as I get vectored around for the VOR, I look down on the yoke and realize the stopwatch isn't there! I'd taken it out of the plane yesterday to replace the battery, and forgotten to return it to the yoke. While being vectored around, I frantically check my pockets, find it, and restore it to its proper position. The VOR goes passably, and we head back Hanscom. On the way back he fails the attitude indicator and VSI. We do one ILS at Hanscom, and he lets me take off the hood at about 600 feet. For the first time, I get to watch the runway and needles move into position together. We taxi back and shut down, and he takes out his notes, beginning by saying that he's going to describe my problems. I start taking notes. He goes over a bunch of stuff I knew about, and a few things I didn't. He never mentions the timer. After a while, he says 'Put down that pencil so I can shake your hand'. Back to his office to sign the papers - with my feet barely touching the ground. Then I have to make two phone calls -one to my wife, and one to John.

I take some time for a leisurely lunch, and to check the weather. 2500 broken, 5000 overcast, all the way home. Looks like an opportunity to get the ticket wet right now. I file, strap the luggage and bicycle down and launch. My clearance is for 6000 feet, which will put me firmly in the soup. As I climb through the broken layer, I realize that the real flight test was not this morning, its now. And, so far at least, I'm passing. I level at 6000, intercept the assigned radial, and track outbound. Its all coming together. As I leave the Boston area, the radio becomes progressively more quiet, and I am enveloped in a bright, white, silent, sphere. At one point, I ask for a radio check just to make sure someone's still out there. As I get closer to Long Island, I hear the familiar reassuring morse code of the Calverton VOR. Approach offers me vectors for the visual, but I opt for the ILS instead. Its hazy below the broken layer but I recognize a few landmarks, as I get established on the localizer, I glance out the window and see Islip runway 24 in an isolated patch of sunlight, exactly where it belongs, and it dawns on me that this stuff really works. I have taken my first step on what promises to be a very exciting and fulfilling journey. I'm still a novice at this, its still very complex and difficult for me, but there is no doubt in my mind that I have become a Jedi Knight.