I never crash

In my flight simming, I never crash the aircraft.

So—am I an outstanding virtual pilot? Not at all. I simply fly as if the plane were real.

And in real life, pilots don’t crash—unless something goes seriously wrong. They don’t because they follow procedures. Because they know that skipping a checklist or ignoring a warning light isn’t just sloppy—it’s potentially fatal. Every switch they flip and every clearance they read back is a small vote in favor of staying alive.

Now, I have many friends in the simmer community who proudly send me screenshots of their latest disasters: wings sheared off, engines on fire, captions like “whoops—forgot the gear again!” And I love those moments. They’re part of the fun. But that’s also the exact point where gaming and simulation part ways.

In a game, you can get shot, explode, and respawn thirty seconds later. No big deal—it’s built for that.

In a simulation, you’re trying to imitate reality. And in reality, you don’t get three tries and a shiny new aircraft. Life only gives you one death—no less, no more.

So that’s why I never crash. Not because I’m some gifted aviator, but because I fly like I only have one life to spend. I treat every takeoff and landing as if the insurance company is watching.

And oddly enough, that mindset changes everything. You stop yanking the yoke for fun. You stop dive-bombing your approach “just to see what happens.” You start flying—checking the winds, trimming properly, reading back ATC, respecting the machine. And suddenly, the simulator transforms. It stops being a piece of software, and starts being a small piece of the sky you actually own.

That’s when the magic happens.

You’re not just playing anymore.

You’re flying—beautifully, seriously, joyfully aware that in this world or the next, one crash is quite enough.

Capt Michael