There’s a comment in a novel (either Len Deigton or Gavin Lyall, sorry, forgotten) that newish pilots face a gap, a window, in their experience. Over 50 hours solo and they are confident enough that they know exactly what they’re doing, then sometime before 100 hours some accident or piece of weather proves to them that they will never know exactly and curbs their hubris.
Looks like that little comment (both authors were pilots BTW) might have some truth to it:
A baseball star’s plane flew into the side of a 52-storey block of
flats in Manhattan’s affluent upper east-side yesterday, killing him
and at least one other person, rattling public nerves exactly a month
after the anniversary of the September 11 attacks.
In an interview with the New York Times last month he said he had spent about 95 solo hours in the air.
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