Grease the Landing: On Final Flights, Fresh Starts, and the Courage to Pivot

Lessons in Legacy, Letting Go, and Leading Through Change

TL;DR:

Last week, I watched my cousin Zach fly his final mission in the A-10 Warthog—a close-air-support workhorse he’s mastered for over a decade—before transitioning to the F-35, the Air Force’s most advanced fighter jet. Swapping planes isn’t just a hardware change—it’s a mindset shift, a whole new mission. And it cracked something open in me.

Most of us won’t get a ceremonial send-off when a chapter ends. We’ll just stop—often without realizing it was the last time.

Zach reminded me: we don’t have to wait for endings to show up with excellence. We can bring “final flight thinking” into every decision, every conversation, every pivot. Whether you're walking away from something good to make space for something new—or just wondering if it’s time to let go—ask yourself: How would I lead if I knew this was my last lap?

You don’t have to be done to finish well.
You don’t have to be tired to let go.
You just have to be awake enough to grease the landing.

Main Article:

Last Thursday, I caught the early flight from Cincinnati to Las Vegas. No email. No calls. Just a straight shot to see my cousin Zach. He's stationed out there, instructing at the Air Force Weapons School—the Air Force's equivalent of Top Gun—and Thursday was a big day.

Not just for Zach. For all of us.

That afternoon, Zach flew his final mission in the A-10 Warthog, a beast of a plane to which he’s dedicated his career for over a decade. If you’ve ever seen one, you know—the A-10 doesn’t whisper. It roars. It's designed to fly low, slow, and sling 3,900 30mm rounds a minute from between Zach's legs. And on this day, he’d take her up one last time, run the training route with his squadron, land her clean... and that would be it.

The end of a chapter. A literal final flight.

We gathered with family, friends, and fellow airmen to watch. It was ceremonial, beautiful, and brutally poignant. Because how often do we get that? How often do we get to know—this is it. This is the last time I’ll do the thing I’ve poured myself into, the thing I’ve mastered, the work that’s made up a large part of who I am.

Zach knew. And when he touched down, he told me something that’s stayed with me every day since: “I wanted to grease the landing.”

Not just finish. Not just wrap it up. But finish with excellence. With care. With pride.

And he did. (His exact quote? "Hard to tell I had landed to be honest")

The Quiet Fade Most of Us Never Notice

Most of us won’t get a final flight like Zach. We won’t get the gathering, the salute, the watching crowd. Most of us will just ... stop. One day we’ll send our last email, give our last piece of advice, build our last thing, and not even know it.

And yet—it still ends.

We don’t always get to decide when.. But we do get to decide how we show up today.

Zach’s final flight cracked something open in me. It made me sit with a question I haven’t been able to shake: What would change if I knew today was my final flight in this chapter of my work?

Would I bring more focus? More heart? More clarity to my decisions? Would I say the hard thing that needs to be said? Would I finally let go of what’s no longer mine to carry?

Would I grease the landing?

The Power of a Clean Pivot

Here’s the twist: Zach’s not done flying. Not by a long shot. He’s trading the A-10 for the F-35—our most advanced fighter jet. From one incredible platform to another. That’s what makes his final flight so powerful. He didn’t leave because he was worn out. He left at the top of his game.

And that’s what I’ve been wrestling with.

Right now, my company is in the middle of a pivot. One that requires letting go of things we’re great at—things we’re known for—to make room for something new. And let me tell you: it’s terrifying. Because we’re not just walking into uncertainty. We’re walking away from something we do with excellence.

But Zach’s story reminds me: you don’t have to leave because you’re tired. Sometimes, you leave because you’re ready. Because the next mission requires a different aircraft. Because your purpose has shifted—even if your skill and passion haven’t.

And if you bring “final flight thinking” into that moment? You can pivot with grace. With clarity. With courage.

What’s Calling You to Land?

A few days after Zach’s flight, I found myself in Oklahoma City with a friend named Christian. He built a career—and real wealth—in oil and gas. But a few years ago, he saw something else. A need. A calling. He sold off his holdings and used the proceeds to help start a pharmaceutical manufacturing venture in the middle of the country, in the city he calls home.

A hard pivot. A clean one. One that, if you asked him, probably felt like a final flight in one world so he could take off in another.

And here’s what I’m realizing: we are all being invited into final flight thinking. Whether it’s your career, your role, your company—or even a way of thinking that no longer serves you—the question is the same:

Is it time to grease the landing?

The Gift of the End

Final flight thinking isn’t about nostalgia. It’s not about mourning what’s ending. It’s about honoring it. It's about being awake enough to realize: this moment matters—and I can meet it with intention, not just momentum.

At Silent Partners, that’s how we hope to build. We help founders make graceful exits, and we help the businesses they’ve poured their lives into keep flying. We believe in the power of legacy—and in the responsibility of carrying it forward with care.

But even beyond the businesses we buy, this mindset is reshaping how I lead, how I build, and how I live. Every conversation. Every hire. Every meeting. If this were the last time I got to do it—would I be proud?

You Don’t Have to Know It’s the End to Lead Like It Is

If you’re standing at the edge of a pivot right now—wondering whether it’s time, wondering if you’re ready—this is your invitation.

You don’t have to be finished to finish well.
You don’t have to be burned out to let go.
You don’t have to be forced into change to choose it with courage.

You just have to ask: What would it look like to grease the landing on this chapter of my life?
And then: What’s calling me to take off again?

Because whether we know it or not, our final flights are coming. The question is: will we meet them with excellence—or miss them altogether?

So today, ask yourself:
What needs to end?
What’s ready to begin?
And how can I incorporate final flight thinking into the way I show up—not just someday but right now?

Real moment captured - that's me taking the ceremonial shot from a 50cal barrel after Zach's final flight. Some traditions demand participation.