Today’s Top Pick is a 1942 Noorduyn Norseman UC-64A.

If you think the Noorduyn Norseman looks a lot like a de Havilland DCH-2 Beaver, you are not alone. The similarities make sense because the two aircraft were designed to handle the demands of air transport in the Canadian backcountry as well as military duty.

Each has a big Pratt & Whitney radial engine in front, supplying the excess of power needed to lift heavy loads from short, rough fields and deliver vital supplies across the sparsely populated stretches of territory that characterize northern Canada. The Norseman, though, made its first flight during the mid-1930s, about a dozen years before the Beaver’s arrival.

While the Norseman was fortified to perform in arctic regions, it would be a fun, effective way to travel today, especially for a large, outdoorsy family that might otherwise choose a recreational vehicle for vacation transport. Imagine the sensation this aircraft would cause parked on the ramp of Massachusetts’ Nantucket Memorial Airport (KACK) among the modern jets and turboprops.

This 1942 Noorduyn Norseman has 13,250 hours on the airframe and 625 hours on its Pratt & Whitney R-1340-AN-1562 engine since overhaul. The panel features a Narco Comm-811 transceiver, King KT 76A transponder, Narco AR-850 encoder, NAT AA-80 intercom, and Garmin 296 GPS map.

Additional equipment includes Federal hydraulic metal skis, a throw-over yoke, Davtron digital outside temperature and leading edge landing lights, taxi lights, and strobes.

Pilots interested in antique aircraft that remain versatile, utilitarian, and practical by modern standards should take a look at this 1942 Noorduyn Norseman, which is available for $195,000 on AircraftForSale.

If you’re interested in financing, you can do so with FLYING Finance. Use its airplane loan calculator to calculate your estimated monthly payments. Or, to speak with an aviation finance specialist, visit flyingfinance.com.

• FLYING Magazine: Building the Dream Beaver for Generations
• Plane & Pilot: Noorduyn Norseman (C.C.F.)
• AVweb: Summer’s Over; Go Home
• The Aviation Consumer: Off the Beaten Path: Vintage Aircraft
• The Aviation Consumer: Antiques and Classics: Owning and Operating

The post This 1942 Noorduyn Norseman Is an ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick Tested in the Canadian Backcountry appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Today’s Top Pick is a 1941 Boeing​/​Stearman PT-17.

Flying a 1940s Stearman biplane is a singular experience that will leave any pilot feeling fortunate and perhaps humbled. How did those young cadets learn to land these things so quickly during World War II? Perhaps it was the urgency of life during wartime, or maybe the producers of the training films I have watched left out the nastier cases of ground loops, noseovers, and other botched landings. Either way, these old biplanes still have a lot of training to offer.

The aircraft for sale here has been upgraded with the Pratt & Whitney R-985 engine, which puts out 450 hp—a big jump from the 220 hp Continentals that powered many Stearmans from the factory. The extra power gives these old birds thrilling performance through big, airshow-style maneuvers. Indeed, this Stearman is registered in the aerobatic category.

This 1941 Stearman has 3,637 hours on the airframe and 912 hours on its Pratt & Whitney R-985 engine since overhaul. The VFR panel features basic “steam gauge” instruments.

Pilots interested in finding out how aerial combatants trained for WWII or simply experiencing a piece of aviation’s golden age should consider this 1941 Boeing​/​Stearman, which is available for $129,000 on AircraftForSale.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

• FLYING Magazine: Restoration Nation: The Stearman Next Door
• FLYING Magazine: Ageless Aviation Fleet of Stearmans Expands to Honor More Midwestern Military Veterans
• FLYING Magazine: Taking Wing: Stearman Patrol
• The Aviation Consumer: Buying The Old Ones: Homework Mandatory
• The Aviation Consumer: Off The Beaten Path: Vintage Aircraft

The post This 1941 Boeing/Stearman PT-17 Is a Golden Age ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Those were the first words out of my mouth when I laid eyes on the Hughes Flying Boat, aka the Hercules, colloquially known as the Spruce Goose. Not terribly poetic, I know, but it was from the heart.

The last time I was inside the Evergreen Aviation & Space Museum in McMinnville, Oregon, was 20 years ago, when the facility was under construction. At the time, the Spruce Goose was across the street in pieces, shrink-wrapped and waiting for installation. The museum was in the excavation stage, and I stood in the 7-foot deep pit that had been dug to hold the hull of the behemoth aircraft. 

On Friday, November 4, 2022, I was back, and face to face with one of the most iconic and impressive feats of aeronautical engineering ever achieved. Up until that moment, the largest airplane I had been physically close to was a Lockheed C-5 Galaxy that Dad had taken me to see when I was a kid. For the record, the Spruce Goose wingspan bests the C-5 by approximately 97 feet, and the tail of the wooden behemoth is over 100 feet tall. I submit the exclamation was warranted.

Let’s Take a Tour

The museum campus sports three buildings: a theater, a wing for more modern aircraft, spacecraft and the SR-71 Blackbird, and the structure that houses the Hughes Flying Boat. There are also several aircraft outside on static display, including multiple military jets, a Douglas C-47 that towed gliders on D-Day, a Boeing 747 painted in the livery of Evergreen Flying Service, and a McDonnell-Douglas VC-9C that served as Air Force Two for decades. There is also a waterpark, Wings and Waves, for those who desire a more kinetic experience.

The star of the museum, of course, is the Flying Boat, the largest seaplane in the world, which was apropos for my visit on a really rainy day even by western Oregon standards—ducks were donning rain gear and frogs were wearing flotation devices. 

Barry Greenberg, the secretary/treasurer of the museum, chairman of the collection and acquisitions committee, and founder of the Spruce Goose Advisory Board, escorted me to the center of the main building where the Flying Boat reigns supreme.

I had been warned that the aircraft is so large that it’s hard to comprehend as you approach it. This is true. It takes you a moment to realize that the big silver-gray thing that is overhead is a wing. The aircraft sports eight Pratt & Whitney R-4360 Wasp Major 28-cylinder, air-cooled radial piston engines with four-bladed propellers—each blade longer than I am tall. I was told the hull measures 265 feet wide and the mid spar of the wings measures 322 feet.

Although the hull is countersunk into the floor by about 7 feet, a staircase is necessary to reach the main boarding door of the aircraft. There is a platform there with an informational plaque and a cadre of well-informed docents waiting to show you the aircraft.

We were greeted by Wayne Swanson, one of the docents who specializes in tours of the Spruce Goose. The docents at the museum wear green vests covered with military patches. The first thing Swanson showed me was a sample of the material from which the airframe is crafted—Duramold. The sample Swanson pulled from his pocket looked more like the layers from a Kit Kat candy bar rather than a slice of modern plywood. Duramold is a composite material made from birch wood impregnated with phenolic resin, then laminated and put under heat and pressure resulting in something as light and strong as steel.

“The skin is made of nine plies, but don’t call it plywood,” he said, as he tapped gently on the fuselage. The sound is unmistakably wooden. According to Swanson, 8,000 nails were used to hold the wood layers together as the three different types of glue and heat were combined to cure the material that would become the wings. A special nail gun was developed to put the nails in and another tool created to take the nails out when the wood and glue layers had cured.

Inside the Engineering Marvel

You enter on the cargo deck and the ceiling is high above you. It is almost like stepping into a cathedral. The aircraft smells different from the other restorations I have been aboard—it took me a moment to realize I was smelling the wood. Most large aircraft smell of plastic and metal. The first thing you want to do when you enter the flying boat is look towards the aft section. The museum has taken care to light the aft deck so you can see allllllll the way down the tail—a distance of approximately 200 feet down a tunnel of ribs that become progressively narrower. You get the impression of looking into infinity.

• READ MORE: When the ‘Spruce Goose’ Took Flight

Using a flashlight—a necessity as for the most part, the lighting inside the Spruce Goose is subdued—Swanson pointed out the details of the great airplane. For example, the

I-beams are made from laminated wood and are “super strong,” and the corner brackets—also made of wood, some of which are as thin as a playing card or a credit card, depending on the angle.

How can something so thin be so strong? Swanson explained, “In the 1940s they rotated the grain of each ply. The first one was vertical, the second was 45 degrees off, then 90, so everytime they put a ply in, they rotated the grain. Today they call that engineered plywood.”

Swanson proceeded to tap on the aircraft as he described the ribs of the aircraft, which measure 3 by 5.5 inches and larger where the wing joins the fuselage.

“That wing is 322 feet long,” he continued. “That’s end to end, and so big that you can’t build it in one piece. You have to build it in at least two pieces. They had a left half and a right half as you couldn’t even transport a 322-foot I-beam.”

The aircraft has a gross weight of 400,000 pounds. “[It’s] the same as a 747 and could hold 120,000 pounds of cargo,” he said.

Fuel Tanks

A lighted hatch leads to a bilge that holds the fuel tanks. The aircraft burned the 130 octane aviation gasoline available in the period. “Each tank has 900 gallons, and there are 14 tanks, which gives you 12,600 gallons,” Swanson said, adding, “Multiply that by 7 because each gallon weighs 7 pounds and that gives you almost 100,000 pounds of fuel.” (I did the math: it comes out to 88,200 pounds of fuel.)

Fuel hoses run from the bilge to each engine. Electric pumps moved the fuel. Hughes liked redundancy, noted Swanson. “Everything is in parallel. There are two fuel hoses and two pumps on each engine so if one fails, the other one takes over. He did an analysis of everything that could fail on the airplane, everything that could keep the engines from running and made sure it had two sources so there are two fuel sources, two oil sources, two hydraulic sources, two electric sources.”

The wings and the engine compartments are large enough for a man to stand in. The engines are placed at 20-foot intervals on the wings. According to Swanson, the original engines were rated at 3,000 hp, but then they were modified to 3,500 hp.

“A person can go to that engine in flight and adjust the throttle or tighten up hoses and things as all the accessories are on the back of the engine,” he continued. “A series of intercom radios enabled Hughes to communicate with the crew, which on the flight consisted of a pilot, [a] copilot, and [an] engineer for engine instruments, and a second engineer for utilities such as hydraulic pressure.”

A hydraulically actuated control system—developed by Hughes—was a necessity, as the size and therefore the weight of the control surfaces were far beyond anything that had come before. The ailerons, for example, measure 140 feet long. Although they were covered with fabric, it was said it would take the strength of 200 men to move them if the aircraft was rigged with cables and pulleys like the multiengine bombers of the day.

Fire Extinguishers and Beach Balls

Inside the cargo hold just behind a stanchion rope there are 16 red fire extinguishers—two for each engine—and a pile of inflated red, yellow, and blue beach balls. The beach balls are there for buoyancy should the aircraft go down on the water.

The application of the beach balls was a take on Hughes’ 1938 around-the-world flight where concerns about ditching at sea inspired him to load his aircraft with 80 pounds of ping-pong balls in the wings and fuselage to keep the aircraft afloat in the event of a water landing.

“He couldn’t get enough ping-pong balls for this airplane so he went with beach balls,” Swanson said, “although there is some controversy as to if they were on board during the one and only flight.”

Another Hughes engineering marvel was an electrical system of 120 volt DC, which allowed for the use of smaller cables and wires, saving considerable weight despite the miles of wiring required for the system.

The Flight Deck

The flight deck is above the cargo hold, accessed through a circular staircase. One of the first things you will notice when you get there are rows of what look like theater seats behind the raised platform where the pilots sit. This flight deck is spacious in every sense of the word. On the port side, there is a series of plexiglas windows that were installed when the aircraft was on display in Long Beach, California—the other side is solid bulkhead, leading a person to wonder how dark the aircraft was back in the day, when the only source of natural light came from cockpit windows.

The aircraft featured built-in coffee urns. [Courtesy: Meg Godlewski]

Hughes was known for eccentricities but he did like his comforts—there are built-in coffee urns on the flight deck.

The flight engineer’s station is located aft of the pilots’ seats on the starboard side of the fuselage. It is a wall of dials stacked 11 high and eight across next to panels of annunciator lights and switches. The dials measure manifold pressure, tachometer, oil temperature and pressure, fuel pressure, cylinder head temperature, and fuel flow—that’s how you keep track of eight engines. The other panels display the output of the three electrical generators, and monitor the aircraft systems for fire—a bad thing in any aircraft but particularly dangerous in one that is made primarily of wood.

Across from the engineer’s station are monitors for a series of strain gauges installed for the taxi tests. “They ran the engines when the aircraft was under construction but they couldn’t run them under load until the test flight,” Swanson explained, adding that the wing load of the aircraft had an arc of 13 feet “so they needed to structurally test where it was overbuilt or underbuilt.”

The information from each strain gauge was recorded on magnetic tape.

I was offered the chance to try out the left seat—and, of course, I had to put on the Hughes-esque hat that you must wear when you do this. Barry graciously took the right seat for the full effect.

The first thing struck me about the left side of the cockpit was the throttle quadrant—eight levers in all. As a multiengine pilot, I’ve had the experience of having to bring both throttles up simultaneously. I very gingerly stretched my hand out to see if I could get all eight levers at once. I didn’t move them—but hovered over them. The answer is yes, I can reach all eight at once. I share this as one of my siblings, when we were watching the movie, The Aviator, asked if I would be able to fly the Spruce Goose. I said yes, as it was all physics—bring the throttles up to get enough thrust to get airflow over the wings and up she goes.

There is another set of throttle levers on the copilot’s side—Hughes’ redundancy again.

The arrangement of the instrument panel is confusing by today’s standards. Most of the aircraft I have flown are post-1967 designs with the standardized placement of the so-called six pack: airspeed on the top row, far left; the attitude indicator then altimeter; then on the second row, left to right, the turn coordinator/slip skid indicator, heading indicator, and vertical speed indicator.

On the Spruce Goose, I had to spend a few minutes looking for these instruments—trying to do an IFR scan in this airplane would definitely be difficult. Some of the instruments are located below the pilot’s field of view, underneath the yoke.

The airplane has a slip skid indicator—two actually—without the upside-down “doghouse” markings, although there is a yaw indicator next to the one on the pilot’s side at eye level. The attitude indicator is the 1940s-style black ball with tick marks at the top to indicate bank angle and a stylized aircraft for pitch. The vertical speed indicator is located directly beneath the attitude indicator.

On the lower part of the panel there is the other slip-skid indicator, a radio direction finder and another AI.

There are dials to show aircraft trim for aileron, elevator, and rudder, which are managed by a joystick on the left side of the cockpit. There is a centralized gauge to indicate pitch. “DOWN” is in red. In addition, there is a mark on the windscreen, sort of a first-generation “heads up display” to help the pilot determine aircraft attitude.

The avionics, which were likely state-of-the-art at the time, consist of an ADF (automatic direction finder), an RMI (radio magnetic indicator), and a radio direction finder. (Hughes didn’t like getting lost.)

To the right of the pilot’s seat is a console filled with toggle switches and annunciator lights for all the aircraft systems—Hughes was known for always wanting to be in control, and this console is a testament to that. By comparison, the copilot’s panel feels rather sparse in instrumentation.

Directly over the cockpit is a roof hatch, which, if you are tall enough, gives you a great view of the top of the aircraft—and/or the harbor when you’re on the water.

During the one and only flight of the Spruce Goose, it only flew for 1 mile at an altitude of approximately 70 feet above the surface of the water; some say it never got out of ground effect. We will never know what its service ceiling was or how it handled during maneuvers—but that doesn’t take away from the feat(s) of engineering required to build it.

What the Visitors Say

I was not the only visitor that rainy Friday—there were several children, a few accompanied by parents and at least one school group. The children were as impressed as I was—I heard the exclamation “WHOAAAAA!” several times as they walked around the museum. One can only hope the next generation is inspired.

The post Inside the ‘Spruce Goose’ appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

A: In the 1940s and 1950s, piston radial engines were the norm on aircraft—for both general aviation and commercial operations. Because of the design, oil has a tendency to pool in the lower cylinders of these engines. Usually, this creates a puff of blue smoke during engine start—but if there is too much oil, there is a chance of fire.

That was just part of the challenge. Starting a radial powerplant requires the engine to be primed, and that takes some skill.

Too little prime, and the engine would struggle and not start.

Too much prime, and the engine would flood—and in the worst-case scenario, there would be a loud backfire followed by an induction fire from over-priming. Overpriming during engine start is a risk on a hot start—that is, when the engine is warm because the aircraft is doing multiple flights per day.

The fire extinguishers were mounted on wheels to make them easier to transport because they were too large and heavy for one person to carry.

When radial engines fell out of use with changes in technology, the external fire extinguisher and the person operating it also fell out of use.

Starting a radial engine after it’s been dormant for some time can be an extra challenge. There is a tendency to overprime, and sometimes there are surprises.

• READ MORE: Ask Flying: What Kind of Precip Will Fall First?

Expectations and a Surprise 

I’ve been that person with the fire extinguisher standing by, during the startup of a 1940s-era twin-engine aircraft that was undergoing restoration. The engines had not turned in more than a decade, and four of us stood nearby with fire extinguishers, just in case.

We didn’t experience a fire (thankfully), although we were interrupted by an appearance from an unauthorized visitor. As the right engine cranked, there was an explosion (expected), and a puff of bluish-white smoke, which was also expected. Suddenly, a field mouse shot out of the exhaust stack (not expected). It landed at my feet, and I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised. 

The mouse was still alive and did not appear to be physically injured, but it did appear utterly confused and frankly, rather insulted at the sudden eviction from its home. The mouse took off running and did not trouble us again.

Do you have a question about aviation that’s been bugging you? Ask us anything you’ve ever wanted to know about aviation. Our experts in general aviation, training, aircraft, avionics, and more may attempt to answer your question in a future article.

The post Why Would Fire Extinguishers Be Required for Engine Starts? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

WHAT IF YOU COULD bring back the magic of the golden age of aviation without the hassle of oil leaks, crummy brakes, no electrical system and short-lived fabric covering? Wouldn’t that be heaven for a pilot? Well, that’s exactly what Waco Classic Aircraft does. It builds brand-new sport biplanes right out of the 1930s but without the reliability and maintenance issues of 75 years ago.

In the mid-1930s, Waco was one of the most successful builders of personal and business airplanes in the country. Wacos were powerful, fast and a delight to fly, and they were expensive. That’s why pilots coveted the graceful biplanes then, and now.
Waco — pronounced wah-co, not way-co like the city in central Texas — began life about 1920 as the Weaver Aircraft Co. After the relocations and management shuffles that were the norm for new airplane makers in that period, the company settled in Troy, Ohio. In the late 1920s, the company changed its name to Waco, probably as an acronym of Weaver Aircraft Co. Some say the name came from an airfield near Troy. Since Waco airplanes generate enough passion to support a museum in Troy dedicated to Waco airplanes, I am sure there are experts who are certain of the root of the name, but there is not necessarily agreement.

In the early years, Waco built dozens of models of biplanes, probably no two exactly alike. The company was among the first to offer a fully enclosed cabin biplane designed for purposeful transportation. By 1935 it created the YMF, what many pilots believe to be the most beautiful and desirable sport airplane ever built. That is the model that is back in production now by Waco Classic Aircraft.

The original Waco company devised an almost incomprehensible model identification system of letters and numbers. The first letter referred to the engine type, the second to the fuselage design and the third to the wings. At least I think that’s what they mean. To make it more complicated, numbers were tacked on after the letters to indicate the first year of production, or maybe some other model change.

The “Y” in YMF-5 stood for a Jacobs radial engine. Why Y instead of J? Who knows? The fuselage was an M and the wings F. There seems to be little consistency to the identification system, and the difference between models is often subtle.

Waco flourished through the Great Depression, or at least survived to create a steady stream of new models. As World War II loomed, the company supplied trainers for the military with many cadets flying the UPF-7 in basic training. Waco also built a large number of troop transport gliders.

The postwar boom in airplane demand that failed to materialize doomed dozens of airplane manufacturers, and Waco was one of them. By 1947, the company was out of business, and its type certificates and drawings went into the public domain.

In 1985, a small group of airplane enthusiasts in Michigan realized that the Waco type certificates were still valid if somebody wanted to put the airplanes back into production. The YMF-5 was the obvious choice because of its beauty and the huge number of Jacobs radial engines that are available to power the airplane.

It is an oversimplification to say that Waco Classic Aircraft simply set up shop and started building the YMF just like the original Waco had done 75 years ago. Though the type certificate is technically still valid, there are many changes that were necessary either because the same materials were no longer available or because superior materials and methods had been developed during the intervening decades. So returning the Waco to production required a series of STCs to the original TC.

One of the primary structural changes was replacing the mild steel tubing used to form the fuselage frame with high-strength 4130 steel. The steel tubing is now corrosion-proofed internally and epoxy-coated externally. The mechanical brakes were replaced by modern-design hydraulic toe brakes. A 28-volt electrical system was installed and the instrument panels were modified to accept full IFR instrumentation and avionics. Heaters were added to the forward and aft cockpits. The tailwheel was raised three inches and made steerable. A new stainless-steel firewall meets current burn-through standards. And on and on.

As complicated as it was to update the type certificate, the really big task for Waco Classic — or any airplane manufacturer for that matter — was to obtain a production certificate. An FAA production certificate authorizes a manufacturer to certify that each airplane it builds meets the standard of the type certificate. The requirements for control of materials, parts and procedures is daunting, but Waco Classic succeeded in meeting all of the FAA’s demands.

The Waco’s wings are made of wood and are covered in Dacron fabric. I am sure the FAA had to reach back in its archives to find the standards for wood used in primary airframe structure, but it did. The wing spars are Sitka spruce, a wood prized by airplane builders for its long, straight grain and uniform strength. Waco Classic buys only “aircraft grade” Sitka but rejects a substantial portion of each delivery because it fails to meet the company’s certified standard. Only the very best pieces of spruce are shaped into wing spars.

The wing ribs are the traditional wood truss structure with gussets, glue and staples used to fasten the components. Because it has a production certificate, each element of the rib, for example, has its own part number. The complete rib is tracked by number. The building process is much like an expert homebuilder would use to make an airplane, but the record keeping is the same as what Cessna or Beech uses. And every step in building a component, and then assembling the airplane, is signed off by inspectors.

The welded steel fuselage frame is surrounded by wood frames and stringers to give the fuselage its final form, though the loads are carried by the steel. The horizontal and vertical tail elements are braced by flying wires in the traditional way, and a jackscrew moves the leading edge of the horizontal up and down for pitch trim. There is a large, enclosed baggage compartment just aft of the rear cockpit with 100-pound capacity and a lockable hatch.

The upper wingspan is 30 feet, while the lower wingspan is 26 feet 10 inches. The lower wing was shorter in span on most models Waco built, and on some, particularly those with enclosed cabins, the lower wing was so small they were sometimes called sesquiplanes, with sesqui meaning 1½. The YMF is certainly not a sesquiplane, but the upper wing is enough longer that it’s easy to hit its tip on the hangar door while you’re looking at the lower wing for clearance.

The wood wings and steel airframe are amazingly strong. The Waco is approved for aerobatics with load limits of +5.2 Gs and -2.1 Gs at its maximum takeoff weight of 2,950 pounds. The day I visited Waco Classic’s factory on the Battle Creek, Michigan, airport, a wing that taxied into a very solid object had been returned for repair. Just days before, the company had sent a set of repaired wings back to an owner in Africa who had flown his Waco between two trees. Nobody was hurt, and the wings were repairable.

The Waco Classic factory is unlike a conventional airplane factory because it is so quiet. A saw cutting through Sitka spruce or a craftsman hammering stainless steel to form an exhaust system are the soft sounds that replace the pounding of rivet guns in a normal factory. In many respects the factory looks like an airplane restoration center until you realize an entirely new airplane is taking shape from stacks of wood and steel tubing.

Production moves at an uneven pace because no Waco is completed until it is sold. Work begins on the basic airframe because that does not change; assembly and finishing are not commenced until the airplane has an owner. The list of ways the owner of a new Waco can customize it to his liking is almost endless. And the list of colors and paint schemes available truly is endless.
The Jacobs R775 seven-cylinder radial engine on the original YMF was rated at 225 hp. When Waco Classic put the airplane back in production, power output was upped to 245 hp. Now you can select either 300 or 275 hp engine ratings. The engine can be fuel-injected as an option, but a carburetor is standard and works really well on the radial engine design.

By the time the YMF was originally designed in the 1930s, the NACA had perfected what was then called the pressure cowling. In the early years of air-cooled engines it was believed that putting the cylinders out in the breeze was the most effective way to remove heat. But wind tunnel research by the NACA demonstrated that a tight-fitting cowling that would pressurize the ram air entering the cowling, and force that air over the cylinder heads, provided superior cooling. The cowling on the Waco is a true classic design, with its diameter matching that of the forward fuselage — and the bumps to accommodate the valve rocker arm covers.

There are three different propellers available for the Waco Classic, though not all are approved on every engine power rating. The newest offering is a wood MT propeller that has a modern airfoil and generates a great deal more thrust for improved takeoff and climb. A Hamilton-Standard metal constant-speed prop is also available, though it adds considerable weight without adding much in the way of performance.

The Waco is approved for IFR, as well as day and night VFR flight, and the company has gotten a lot of attention by offering the Garmin G500 flat-glass system as an option. I have the slightly more advanced version, the G600, in my Baron and love the enormous capability it provides. But I would never want the system in a Waco. Flying a Waco is all about looking out and enjoying the view, not studying the instrument panel. When riding around in a Waco, about the only things I’m going to take a quick look inside for are airspeed and altitude, and you can’t beat a big round gauge to show that information.

I would, however, want the optional Garmin GTS 800 traffic system, because midairs are always a threat and that traffic system calls traffic by clock position, high or low, verbally into your headset so you don’t need to look inside.

The only large open-cockpit biplane I had ever flown was a Stearman, so I didn’t know what to expect from the Waco. Let me tell you, the Stearman is a fine airplane and proved itself to be an excellent trainer, but there is no comparison between the Waco, designed for flying sportsmen, and the Kaydet, designed for the Army Air Forces. The Waco’s flying qualities match its elegant appearance in every way.

In the Waco, you can adjust your seat up or down, which is very unusual in open-cockpit biplanes but gives any pilot the optimum position to see over the nose and still be protected from the slipstream. The windshields, which have been redesigned from the original, are very effective, and there is no buffeting in the cockpit. And as you can imagine with a factory in Battle Creek, the Waco pilots have to fly in cold weather, which they find to be quite comfortable down to 30 degrees or so, thanks to the effective heaters and good wind protection.

The Waco is a taildragger — a tame one — but still demands proper footwork on the pedals so that the airplane is aligned with the runway centerline on touchdown. Tailwheel steering is effective on the ground, and visibility isn’t bad looking down the sides of the fuselage, but mild S-turning is required to see what lies directly ahead under the big round engine. Pilot training is included in the purchase of a Waco Classic.

The Waco has four ailerons, while many biplanes of the era had ailerons on only one of the wings. The four ailerons are effective and control forces are reasonable, but roll rates are more typical of a conventional airplane than one designed expressly for aerobatics, which the Waco is not. Pitch stability is extremely positive, and you will find yourself cranking in trim for every change in airspeed.

Waco airspeeds for takeoff, cruise and landing are not much different than they are in a Skyhawk. But there is a big difference in drag. Forcing air between two wings, and over exposed flying wires and struts, creates an enormous amount of drag, so the Waco simply will not accelerate much beyond normal cruise no matter how much power you use or how far you stuff the nose down.

Fuel is carried in two tanks in the center of the upper wing with 48 gallons as standard. Two more tanks can be added to increase capacity to 72 gallons, and most Waco owners opt for the long-range tanks. The Jacobs burns about 15 gallons an hour in normal operations, not really much different from a Continental or Lycoming of similar power.

Of course flying the Waco is wonderful, but the fun doesn’t end when you land because, wherever you go, you and your airplane will be the star. Waco owners quickly get used to the line crew waving them into the spot just outside the door, where everyone can get a good look, and believe me, they will look and want to chat. Waco owners will never be lonely on any ramp.

The post Waco Classic’s New-Old World Biplane appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

So suffice it to say, when Peter Bowers of Michigan-based Waco Classic Aircraft Corporation (wacoclassic.com) contacted the magazine that its new YMF D model would be at Sun ‘n Fun, my interest was piqued — for very personal reasons. Like I’ve mentioned in past blogs, I never looked back after my dad’s death. Little did I know that a company had started a modern production of the Waco YMF in the early 80s with the first YMF receiving FAA certification under the original Waco type certificate a few years later. The new D Model settled into Sun n Fun for a week of demo rides and aerobatic performances with Bob Wagner at the stick — and I had a chance to hop in for a ride.

The balloon experience took a bit longer than anticipated so I barely made our appointment. I literally jumped out of the chase van and beelined to where the demo airplane was parked on the flight line, right next to the Aeroshell Team’s T-6s. A sight in and of itself!

Pilot Bob Wagner got me situated in the front cockpit, briefing me about the controls, attaching my harness belt and helping me don the helmet. It was familiar from the moment I walked up to the airplane, but when he yelled “Clear the prop!” and the 300 hp Jacobs radial engine roared to life, I was back home. I can’t explain it properly, but that’s as close as I can get to it in words. Bob taxied out to the runway and we and another airplane were cleared for a tandem takeoff immediately after some warbirds that were ahead of us. We flew out as a group before Bob split off and headed south to do some maneuvers. It was a beautiful day for an open cockpit experience. The wind rushing by, the comforting rumble of the engine.

Bob’s voice came over the radio and told me to take the stick. I did some turns and then straight and level flight before performing a stall. It felt very stable. He then took the controls and said “Here’s how you do a lazy 8 for your commercial license, nice and easy.” I quickly pointed out that I wasn’t going for a commercial license, but he had already commenced the maneuver. It seemed pointless to add that I had never experienced a Lazy 8! It was smooth as silk. I loved it, my laughs disappeared into the windstream! After completing the maneuver, he then piped into my ear “This is how you do a FUN Lazy 8!” I stopped my protest b/c it was too late, he had already begun the FUN maneuver. Wow! My delight overtook my fear as I was pressed down into my seat. Leveling out, we headed back in to join the war bird arrival at Linder. As we cruised along, I couldn’t help wonder what my dad would think. Not only about me in this moment and my renewed interest in flying, but about how much the Waco has progressed with modern production. The pilot’s cockpit is outfitted with a glass panel, something that was not even around when my dad was. And I had to chuckle that it now had LED landing lights! If he had lived into this century, unlike some his age, I’m sure he would have embraced such technology (and would have become computer savvy and surfed the Internet). Despite the technology and the modern production, I’m sure the flight experience is not so different from that of decades ago in his vintage aircraft restorations. I can hear his laugh, not too unlike mine just moments prior.

After a smooth and easy landing, we taxied back to the Waco’s parking spot so Bob could get ready to perform with the warbirds. Just before thanking Bob (another ironic twist, for my dad’s name was Bob), I asked him if he might have known my father. Yes, he had met him, he told me, when he had been hired to deliver one my father’s last restorations, a taperwing, to the gentleman who had purchased it. I didn’t really know what to say…I wanted him to give a yes answer, but didn’t expect it. So I just said, thank you for a great ride and took my leave.

As a kid, I went to Sun ‘n Fun quite a few times with my father and I remember them as being fun. But, my first Sun ‘n Fun in nearly 30 years was one to remember, on so many levels. I can’t even imagine what 2011 will be like!

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