On the way to the airport, the accelerator linkage got stuck with the throttle almost wide open. Whoops! Is this an omen? Nah. So I just downshifted to third, then second, pulled into a parking lot, and switched off the ignition. It was an easy fix, and I got to the airport with four minutes to spare. But it did remind me of the value in practicing for emergencies. Someone told me a few weeks ago about how they'd had a stuck accelerator and ran into a tree to stop the car--because they forgot the most obvious thing, that the car will stop if you turn the engine off.
It was a touch-and-go day. Did 8 take offs and landings on runway 15. The wind was 170 at 6, with essentially no gusts. There were the usual bumps over the highway south of the runway and the lake north of it, but otherwise it was smooth sailing. (But not much like flying a boat, though.)
The last two landings were about as good as could be--or at least as good as I could make them. Adam pointedly looked out the right window most of the time, or pretended to, and kept his hands in his lap. I couldn't see whether he was clenching his fists, but he gave the appearance of being relaxed. After we came down and had taken care of the logbook entry and scheduling lessons for next week he shook my hand and seemed happy (or relieved to have survived).
Back in the car I noticed again that the transition from flying a Cessna to driving a VW Vanagon is not entirely automatic. The airport road slopes sideways to the north, which is to the left going out. I never notice it going in, but on the way out after flying I always feel as though I'm banking to the left and can't get back again. Turning the wheel to the right feels like applying right rudder instead of aileron. A very weird sensation!