If you’d told me years ago that I’d be a rookie cop at the age of 63 I wouldn’t have believed you. I was six when I decided I wanted to be a pilot. My dad had a pilot’s licence and he’d just taken me up in a plane for the first time. He asked me what I’d do if I couldn’t be a pilot and I said I’d be a policeman.

I was hired by United Airlines as a pilot in June 1966 and I flew with them for 37 years. That was my first love. I flew all over the world, was well paid and got a lot of respect. When you are in a pilot’s uniform, everyone speaks to you – movie stars, business people, little old ladies.

I retired in 2003 and I was due to get a pension of $12,000 a month, a comfortable retirement. But then United went into bankruptcy and the company wiped out our retirement plan. I was not as well off as I’d expected – and bored. Then one day I got talking to a state trooper, who told me that in some states there’s no age limit on joining the police, provided you can do what a 22-year-old can do. I found that it applied to Las Vegas, which appealed to me because the city has such a large, mixed population and visitors from all over the world.

I put in my application and did the written, oral, psychological and physical tests – I was a marathon runner so I found the physical pretty easy. A couple of weeks later, I got a call to say I’d been accepted to police academy. I packed my bags and headed to Vegas. I was 63. I’m the oldest ever rookie cop in Vegas and they think probably in the US. I didn’t know it at the time but at the academy they all took bets on how many days I’d last. My family and friends asked, “Why do you want to do that? It’s dangerous.” But when they saw how serious I was, they knew I could do it.

Academy lasted 23 weeks. It was not fun. Overnight, I went from being an expert with 37 years’ experience at the airline to being brand new. At inspection one of the instructors would yell at me about how long my ear hair was. There were 108 of us at the start of police academy and only 70 of us graduated.

I bring a lot to this job that someone straight out of school doesn’t have. I’ve been married, I’ve got kids and grandkids, I’ve had other jobs, I’ve travelled. I don’t feel old and now the guys and gals I work with don’t see me that way either. We get 4,000 calls every day in the Las Vegas Valley district. When I go out on call, the public respects me. They don’t see a man in his sixties as a threat. They don’t try to get in a fight with me, they tell me their troubles. Last year, I got a Life Saver Award for saving a guy who was trying to commit suicide – that was the best I’ve ever felt.

I’ve learnt a lot; the world isn’t as happy a place as I thought it was. The first time I saw a dead person it was a big deal, but I’ve seen lots now. I don’t get upset. I know that life ends. In Las Vegas, we have some of America’s poorest citizens and some of the wealthiest. It doesn’t matter which end you’re at, they are doing the same things – fighting, stealing, taking drugs.

I can be a cop for as long as I want, provided I can do the job.

It’s been three years now and I’m thinking I’ll do it for 10. I love it. No two days are the same. It keeps me bright, you have to think on your feet. I still get a buzz when I look in the mirror and see the badge on my chest. The camaraderie and esprit de corps that I thought I had in the cockpit are nothing compared to what I have now.