Overcoming the cockpit Alpha Dog
When I was 18, I went up with the dad of my girlfriend. This guy was a TWA 747 captain, and had flown just about everything with wings. He was also arrogant as hell.
We were flying one of his little projects, a '57 Piper Tri Pacer. The cockpit was a wreck of wiring, half-installed instruments, radios on the floor, the whole bit. You had to put your feet *up* on the rudder pedals, to keep your heels from dragging wires around.
So there we were, tooling around a high altitude lake, when I noticed the right tank was quite low. I suggested we switch to the left tank, and got a terse "We ARE on the left tank" in response. Keep in mind this guy was the dad of the teenage girl I was sleeping with, and he was three of me in size, easy.
I checked the selector again, thought about it, thought this rude SOB wasn't worth a water landing, much less in this old heap, and so I said it again. He shot back, "I SAID WE ARE... wait a sec... well, I'll be damned... That's one 'atta boy' for you." And that was the end of it.
No wonder TWA stood for "Try Walking Across." ;Q
A gun is like a parachute. If you need one and don't have one, you'll probably never need one again.