Good question! Here is what we have found: if you are flying an ultralight within the limits of both the aircraft configuration and in compliance with established regulations as mandated by the FAA, the plane will slow then stop. That's the bad news. The good news is that it will take quite awhile for the ultralight to come down so you have plenty of time to pick a place to land. Just how far it will fly depends on the type of aircraft you are flying and the weather conditions.

First the aircraft. Some ultralights are designed to stay aloft without power longer than others. The best friend you can have when the motor quits is altitude. The higher you are, the longer it will take you to come down. You should also be constantly asking yourself, "where would I land right now if the motor quits?" If you are flying over water or lots of trees, you need more glide time and that means staying higher.

The weather is also important. The warmer air in the summer will cause an updraft that will support you a lot longer. Winds can enhance the lift of the wing if you use them correctly.

To be prepared for trouble, you practice power off (or simulated) landings with the instructor when you are learning to fly, but it's not the same as the real thing. You know that if there is trouble you can always kick the motor back to life and try again if you come up a little short or glide past your selected landing spot. Problem is, life ain't always like that.

My first flight was much like life itself. I had taken the lessons, purchased the plane, but had not yet flown my first solo. I had put the plane back together after bringing it home on a 4 by 8-foot trailer. Some of my flying buddies, who also flew Quicksilvers, checked my work to be sure I had put it back the way Mr. Quicksilver intended it to be.

It was a great day to fly. No wind, clear skies, and I was ready. Since most of those at the airport that day were ultralight pilots, they knew what I felt. I kept putting the doubts and nervous twinges in the back of my mind and concentrated on how great it would be to fly for the very first time all by myself.

"Just do some high speed taxi up and down the runway until you get the feel of it, then come back and we'll talk", said one of my friends.

The little engine sputtered to life as I pulled on the rope handle and it settled into its high pitch 2-stroke rhythm. A little heavy on the oil mixture, a trail of smoke moved from the black exhaust pipe and into the spinning prop where it was dissipated into a thin fog. I pulled the seatbelt across my middle, clicked the metal buckle and swung my feet up onto the foot pedals. By now my heart was racing faster than the little motor. Some "thumbs up" from my audience and I move the throttle to start the little Quicksilver moving forward.

Once on the asphalt runway, I found the little plane moved quicker and easier than the two-place trainer that I had been flying. My instructor Mark had weighed probably 140 and my 230 made a heavy load for the trainer, but this little craft had no trouble moving me along. When I reached the end of the runway and turned around, I knew it was time. After all, why would I keep driving back and forth all day? If I wanted to do that I would have bought a motorcycle. This is an aircraft and it was meant to fly!

It was like somebody threw the little plane into the air. Before I knew what was happening I was climbing away from the black ribbon of asphalt. "My God I am flying!!" I thought to myself as the grin consumed my entire face.

I continued in a westerly direction before starting a slow left turn at about 500 feet. Then it happened. The little engine over my head went from a smooth 5,000 r.p.m. to a pathetic 1,500 r.p.m. I tried to increase the throttle setting but it made this sickening sound like an elephant trying to gargle. Brahhhaaaaa, brahhaaa, it sounded like it was trying to throw-up or something…anything but fly.

It was panic. It was like you are in high school, the bell is about to ring for class and you can't remember where your locker is. It was like you are at the dealership repair shop, on vacation about a thousand miles from home and the mechanic says, "well I think I have found the problem, at least part of it anyway, and it ain't good". It was like the time your teenage-daughter cames home late and said, "I met this real neat guy who plays in a band and he showed me the inside of their tour bus".

I remembered everything that Mark had told me. Always watch for a place to land, land into the wind, and keep the nose up. There was not enough wind to worry about, there was a big field below me, and I was going to make my first solo 'engine off' landing.

As I started my approach to the field, I kept the nose up because I did not want to do cartwheels all over this farmers field. As soon as the little tires hit the dirt the plane came to a quick stop, but still in a normal configuration. The field had been plowed within the past week or so and was as soft as a rotten banana. As I unbuckled and stepped out, my feet sank into the mud as it moved over the tops of my tennis shoes and changed the color of my socks.

As I struggled to pull the plane through the mud, my friends pulled up in their pickup truck. "You Ok?" they yelled across the field. As soon as they saw I was still moving without a limp or trail of red liquid, they began to laugh. I am sure they said some very clever things but for the life of me I can't remember any of it. I was too busy pulling, pushing, and saying "thank you God, and I really am sorry for all those things I have done in the past".

Once back at the airport we were able to figure out the problem. A hole in the top of the back piston. The vent on the gas cap was plugged which caused the fuel to stop flowing. Two-stroke engines have a bad habit of burning holes in pistons when they don't get enough gas. As I sit here writing this I am looking at that piston. It is mounted on the top of a wooden trophy that came from a drag strip many years ago. And you know what? I still can not look at it without shaking my head as an involuntary smile creeps across my lips.