With a lengthy lifespan comes a colorful history. And while we are able to peruse our aircraft logbooks for clues or even easily access decades of ownership and registration records from the FAA, gaps abound. So we’re often left without much background or context regarding their past lives. The grand adventures, close calls, and colorful circumstances through which our airplanes endured typically elude us as we daydream about their past lives. 

I considered myself fortunate when, from out of the blue, an individual from my airplane’s past contacted me via email. Her name was Phyllis, and when browsing this column, she recognized my Cessna 170 as the airplane she and her husband, Al, used to own between 1970 and 1981. She explained that although Al had passed away in 2017, she still kept in touch with Dick, the gentleman to whom they had sold to and from whom I had purchased the airplane.

• READ MORE: Navigating the Aircraft Ownership Learning Curve Through Type Clubs

It was a pleasure to make contact with Phyllis. I learned a few things about the 170 and told her the whole story about meeting Dick and buying it from him. Recognizing it was a long shot, I asked her if she happened to have any old photos from the days she owned it. She said she did, and a couple of weeks later, I received some color photocopies of my airplane, wearing a different tail number and frolicking among the beaches of the Pacific Northwest. 

As someone with a soft spot for bygone eras and forgotten times, I was immensely grateful to receive these glimpses into my airplane’s history. I shared them with Dick, as well. He was able to provide some additional context to the photos, explaining what beach was likely visible in one of the photos and pointing out how Al chose the former tail number (N170AL) to display his initials. 

Last month, I had the unexpected opportunity to give my friend Jim a glimpse into his own airplane’s history. While aimlessly scrolling through eBay listings for old airplane slides and scanning for any particularly interesting slices of aviation history, I spotted a Cessna 170 with a paint scheme that looked familiar. The listing was for a set of 10 old slides taken at an unnamed fly-in sometime in the early 1980s, and the 170 pictured appeared to have the exact same paint scheme as Jim’s 170.

• READ MORE: Going to the Birds, And How Not To

This was quite the coincidence. Jim’s airplane had been repainted in its original factory paint scheme but with nonstandard colors. In place of the standard primary reds, yellows, or blues, his plane sports a color palette nearly identical to that of the A&W burger chain, a tasteful pairing of orange and brown. The likelihood that these slides showed a doppelganger was miniscule…but I had to be sure.

Of course, the tail number was inconveniently cut off in every photo, making a positive identification impossible. But a closer look and some methodical detective work eventually resulted in certainty beyond a reasonable doubt. The airplane in the slides sported the exact same Horton STOL kit and the same engine modification, but the deciding factor was the presence of a unique decal on one wingtip but not on the other. It had to be Jim’s plane.

I went ahead and spent the $12 for the set of slides. When they arrived, I had them professionally scanned and printed, and I placed the two best shots in a small frame for Jim to hang on the wall of his hangar. Sure, they were relatively unremarkable photos in the grand scheme of things, but they captured a scene showing his airplane in a time well before he bought it. Best of all, it showed his airplane wearing a set of wheel pants. Having only ever known his airplane with a big set of Alaskan Bushwheel tundra tires, it was both amusing and comical to see.

• READ MORE: When It’s Better to Have It and Not Need It

Since making this aviation-related archeological discovery, I now keep an eagle eye out for any old photos or articles featuring any of my friends’ airplanes. I even went so far as to enter a handful of their tail numbers as “saved searches” in eBay so that I’ll be alerted if and when any items, such as photos, slides, or logbooks, are listed for sale with those tail numbers in the descriptions. 

In this way, I hope to once again pair forgotten memories with the present day, filling in vacant gaps in history with context that would otherwise be lost forever. I think anyone who considers themselves to be caretakers of aviation history, rather than just owners, would greatly appreciate the effort.

The post Seeking Out Ghosts of Your Airplane’s Past appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

This is something I see fairly regularly, albeit more commonly in reference to more basic and affordable types. A prospective buyer polls a general audience for specific advice about a major purchase, and the replies are both predictable and suspect. All too common is the warning that parts for anything other than Cessna, Piper, or Beechcraft are impossible to find. While certain aircraft (and engines) do indeed present some difficulty with regard to parts availability, the vast majority are entirely possible to own and operate without too much trouble.

There are far better ways to become informed about a given aircraft type, and my favorite, by far, is type clubs.

• READ MORE: Going to the Birds, And How Not To

For a nominal fee, one can purchase an annual membership to a type club and instantly gain access to a treasure trove of virtually any mass-produced type out there. Good clubs offer online libraries chock full of scanned documents, manuals, diagrams, and literature. Additionally, many club websites are home to online forums with comprehensive prepurchase inspection checklists, airworthiness directive (AD) lists, and firsthand knowledge crowdsourced from current and former owners. Best of all, membership is almost always made available to shoppers who aren’t yet owners, offering an extremely affordable education about a type under consideration. 

As someone who creates spreadsheets and compiles detailed documentation for purchases as minor as a toaster, I joined The International Cessna 170 Association early in my shopping process, years before actually purchasing one. I spent hours soaking up as much info as I could about the type. Of particular note was a pinned thread in its forum that listed approximately 30-40 items to address immediately upon purchasing a 170. The list was detailed, and the reasoning behind each item was provided.

When I finally bought a 170 and dropped it off for its first annual inspection, I presented that list to my mechanic. Before long, he completed approximately a dozen various mods, many of which I’d never have discovered without entering the 170 community. I learned that the parking brake has a history of becoming partially engaged after a rudder pedal is pushed to the stop during crosswind landings or taxiing, and we followed the advice to disconnect it entirely. We proactively replaced the tailwheel leaf springs and old copper oil pressure gauge lines. I also had him perform multiple specific inspections that weren’t called out in any manufacturer materials.

• READ MORE: When It’s Better to Have It and Not Need It

Without question, my $45 annual membership had just paid for itself, and I hadn’t even tapped into any of the scanned documentation. Neither had I posted many of my own questions in the forum or engaged with any of the all-knowing 170 owners and their decades of experience maintaining the type. With such informed and helpful people at my disposal, happy to help tackle problems and lend their expertise, this membership is one that I don’t think twice about renewing.

Type clubs like this are also an excellent source of events. Many hold refresher and currency clinics aimed at sharpening the skills of the owner group as a whole. Some even negotiate special rates with insurance companies for owners who have demonstrated an ongoing effort to undergo recurrent training. And even if a club hasn’t arranged for formal discounts, I’ve spoken with one insurance broker who acts as an owner advocate, presenting underwriters with proof of such training and negotiating lower rates as a result.

Other clubs do an excellent job with social events. At face value, many of them appear to be little more than excuses to devour vast amounts of cheeseburgers and ice cream. But if such temptations are what it takes to motivate owners to preflight their airplanes and get into the air regularly, well, that’s good for airplane and pilot alike.

It’s possible rare types benefit the most from a vibrant, active type club or owner’s association. The Meyers Aircraft Owners Association is a textbook example. With a small fleet size to begin with, airframe parts can occasionally become difficult to source. So when the original factory jigs and tooling were located by a Meyers owner, he purchased everything and stored it all in a secure location for preservation. Due to his efforts, the entire Meyers community will be able to source brand-new airframe parts if and when they are required. 

• READ MORE: 5 Things I Wish I Had Known Before Buying My First Airplane

To determine whether your type has a corresponding club, simply Google your aircraft  along with the words “club” or “association,” and you’ll likely find any that exist. Additionally, the EAA Vintage Aircraft Association maintains an excellent list of type clubs.

Finally, if your time and workload permit, consider getting involved and giving back to your community of owners. Help to organize a fly-out or two during the summer. Contribute some of your newfound knowledge in the forums. And lend a helping hand to others who are navigating the steep learning curve of ownership for the first time. 

The post Navigating the Aircraft Ownership Learning Curve Through Type Clubs appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Recently, we cheered on Stephen Mercer as Gardner Lowe Aviation Services in Peachtree City, Georgia, put the finishing touches on his family’s 1982 Piper PA-32R-301T Saratoga. Now, it is time for the pull-offs from that job to find a new life in Corey Sampson’s Cessna 172. We have been tracking this story from the beginning with Sampson’s decision to incorporate used-serviceable material (USM) in his retrofit. 

• Part 1: Cessna 172 Skyhawk Avionics

It is one thing to pull out the Garmin catalog and order up everything new and quite another to retrofit using USM. One must decide what to keep and what to jettison. The situation is not always cut and dried. What if you install all this stuff, and it doesn’t work? 

Thankfully, Sampson is an A&P and can do much of his own work. 

Avionics Equipment Installation

Planning for a major maintenance event comes down to one key element: attention to detail. I have seen more than one maintenance evolution derailed by the smallest detail. I once found myself stalled on a job—a major engine overhaul—for one bolt. Guess what? The airplane needs all of the parts to fly, not just some of them. 

I caught up with Sampson recently to follow up on the installation. He said that although routing was challenging, he didn’t hit any real snags along the way. 

Sampson mapped out his maintenance, and FLYING was there during the initial phases of this evolution. He ensured a clean, comfortable space in which to accomplish his work. The environment is everything in aircraft maintenance. Why do you think line maintenance aircraft mechanics receive a premium? Other factors to consider are tooling and technical data. Sampson had each of these lined up before removing a single component.

Sampson said the downtime for his 172 during maintenance was five weeks for the removal and installation, and one week for pitot-static recertification. He also removed the automatic direction finder (ADF), as it is now obsolete, and therefore, he could save some weight. 

Fitment and Operational Check

Once Sampson finished everything, it was time for Oasis Aviation Avionics & Maintenance to do the pitot-static and transponder check. The company also built up the harness and mapped everything to assist him during installation.

• Part 2: Cessna 172 Skyhawk Avionics

Once Sampson installed everything, it was time to button her up and functionally test the new hardware. To keep from running the engine in the hangar, he procured an external power supply from Aircraft Spruce & Specialty. 

“These portable power supplies are an excellent way to power your avionics on the ground while you train or practice in the cockpit,” the company says. “Especially helpful in learning how to operate glass cockpit avionics and panel mount GPS units.”

They are also furnished with Cessna-style, three-pin plug configuration and manufactured in the U.S.

Next, Sampson programmed and calibrated the two Garmin G5 Electronic Flight Instruments. Once that was complete, it was time to test fly the airplane around the pattern in Peachtree City. After the pitot-static check, he flew to New Orleans with his co-conspirator, Elijah Lisyany, for breakfast.

Continued Airworthiness Action

According to the FAA, “continued airworthiness requires that safety concerns within the existing fleet be addressed, and the knowledge gained applied for the benefit of future fleets as well.” 

The International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) breaks it down even further, stating that continued airworthiness “means all of the processes ensuring that, at any time in its operating life, the aircraft complies with the airworthiness requirements in force and is in a condition for safe operation.”

• READ MORE: Getting the Most from Your Prepurchase Inspection

That means Sampson now has to shift his maintenance plan to accommodate his new equipment.

Earlier in the project, Sampson opted for a Garmin GNS 430. Once installed, Corey adjusted the contrast, and viola, it worked beautifully. 

In January, Garmin issued Service Advisory (SA) 23018 Rev B—does it affect the continued airworthiness of Sampson’s Cessna 172? 

It depends. 

First of all, service advisory alerts are just that—advice. The only thing mandatory under FAR Part 91 is an airworthiness directive (AD). 

The SA clearly states that “display repairs for the WAAS and Non-WAAS GPS 400, GNC 420, and GNS 430 are no longer available and have been discontinued.” It does not say the units have been discontinued. 

Additionally, if feasible, someone could create an alternate repair either by DER or 145 process specification. There is more than one way to stay compliant. And, of course, Sampson could replace the unit with another USM GNS 430 or upgrade to Avidyne IFD 440.

The post Testing the Hardware After a USM Retrofit appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

But from time to time, I’m welcomed by profoundly good luck. On rare occasions, days off align with fantastic weather, a usable runway, and a properly functioning, squawk-free airplane. On these occasions, I approach my flying with a healthy dose of suspicion and brace myself for the worst, but I make sure to appreciate the good fortune.

Last week, one such day presented itself. After a solid month of fog, low ceilings, and generally dreary weather, the sun reintroduced itself to the upper Midwest, and the people rejoiced. Waving hello to all the other happy citizens of my small town as Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah played loudly in my head, I made my way to the small, private airport I call home. While no bluebirds landed on my shoulder, a lone cow regarded me as I passed a nearby farm, and I figured that, given my location in the Wisconsin countryside, that would suffice as a stand-in.

Winds were light and out of the east, neatly aligning themselves to two of my favorite grass strips in the area. While a wispy cloud layer was visible above, low ceilings would not be a factor. And it was even pleasantly warm, setting me up for a relatively pain-free preflight inspection.

Upon arriving at the airport, I saw that the typical poor snow removal did present a few challenges. A couple of Volkswagen-sized dirt mounds littered the east end, and only a narrow strip of the western third had been plowed. Fortunately, I was confident I could successfully negotiate these issues and proceeded with my preflight. 

The preflight was successful in more than one way. I found no mechanical concerns to speak of, and my new technique of packing out any food (namely energy bars) out of the cabin had apparently alleviated the mouse problem I had encountered the previous month. Happily noting that the engine oil level had stabilized perfectly over the preceding eight flight hours, I pronounced the airplane fit to fly.

• READ MORE: Managing the Doldrums of Winter

The engine start and run-up were uneventful, and it was warm enough that I kept the window open for the sheer novelty of doing so in February. I dutifully made my calls on the CTAF as I backtaxied, but the airport and airspace above remained completely serene. Not one airplane was visible, even via ADS-B on my newly overhauled panel. 

While the sun gave the impression of warmth, the air was still crisp and thick, providing a bit more thrust than I’m accustomed to in the summer. Observing the engine stabilize at 2430 rpm early in the takeoff roll, I smiled as my 80/42 seaplane propeller clawed its way through the air and pulled me aloft in less than 400 feet. A quick turn southbound placed me on course for Brodhead, a favorite little airport of mine with three grass runways and a vibrant antique aircraft community.

A mottled landscape of brown and white unfolded beneath me, the remnants of our early January snowstorm receding into the lush soil. Because the state of Wisconsin is unable or unwilling to assign more than a few CTAFs to its airports statewide, a massive variety of unseen voices emerges from my headset. In a 20-mile radius, roughly 11 airports share 122.9, and we step on each other more often than kids forced to learn square dancing in gym class. 

Frustrating as it can be, this comes with a side benefit. As I depart my home field and visit the two other airports on my agenda, I can simply leave my radio tuned to the single frequency the entire time. Because we’re friendly people in the Great Lakes region, position reports are sprinkled with jaunty hellos and inquiries about the day’s plans. This creates additional congestion, sure, but so long as the niceties are kept brief, none of us complain. 

Before long, I entered the pattern at Brodhead. Keeping an eye out for the many radioless antique planes that call the airport home, I ensure every LED light is powered up and continue to dutifully make my position reports. Surprisingly, no other traffic is present, and as tends to be the case when no witnesses are around, I manage to nail each wheel landing, rolling my big Bushwheels onto the grass so lightly I could barely tell when they spun up. 

With the rust of a nonflying January sufficiently cleared off, I departed the pattern and made my way up to Albany, Wisconsin. Relatively short for the area at 1,700 feet, I enjoy challenging myself to take off and land within the first 500 feet of Runway 9— a distance clearly identifiable by the perpendicular perimeter of a neighboring cornfield. As I approached the field, I reminded myself how transients sometimes mix up the name Albany with a nearby town called Albion and listened for both names on the still-busy frequency.

While the continued lack of other traffic and witnesses promised another series of excellent landings, the light breeze decided I could use a bit of a challenge. It shifted around to the north and spilled over an adjacent tree line, randomly changing direction as it saw fit. Riding the swirls and eddies down final, I refocused and had fun trying to predict and anticipate this new variable. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t, but while my landings were no longer things of beauty, I enjoyed the atmospheric lesson immensely.

Thoroughly limbered up after a good number of landings and short approaches, I headed back home and was welcomed with the aforementioned narrow strip of runway, bordered by the remnants of lazy snow plowing. It took little effort to properly align myself and set down on centerline, but I was then caught off guard by an errant puff of wind that launched me back up into the air like a hot-air balloon. Carefully maintaining a slightly nose-up deck angle and avoiding a pilot-induced oscillation, a quick shot of power cushioned my return to earth and I settled back down in an ugly yet safe fashion. 

A quick glance to the left revealed the reason for the bobbled landing—another airport tenant was standing nearby, recording me with his cellphone. Where were the cameras down at Brodhead? But my indignation soon subsided to thankfulness as the reality of a perfect day of flying settled in. Days like this don’t occur often enough. So we must soak them up and savor them when they do.

The post A Perfect Day for Flying appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

This winter, we received about a foot of snow in one shot, followed by a week of subzero temperatures and high winds. That was about a week and a half of nonflyable weather for those of us still building our tailwheel skills. When the winds finally subsided they were replaced with temperatures in the upper 30s…which resulted in 200-foot ceilings and thick fog. We’re going on week two of these conditions, and it’s now been a full month since I’ve been able to fly at all.

Every aircraft owner in this climate must anticipate conditions and nonflying periods like this. But this is doubly important for relatively new owners like me still learning how to best care for their airplanes and refining flying skills. Gone are the days of landing the FBO’s rental airplane, tossing the keys to the person at the front desk, and forgetting about it for a few weeks. Now, as the caretaker of an airframe and engine, there are more responsibilities to consider.

So, as someone new to ownership, what should you consider when facing weeks upon weeks of nonflyable weather? For me, there are two primary areas of focus—the engine’s health and my perishable flying skills. 

It’s fairly common knowledge that the worst thing you can do to an airplane engine is let it sit unused for long periods. This makes every potential window of flyable weather that much more valuable, considering it might be followed by a month of inactivity. This is why, on my last flight, I pushed my limits a bit and ventured out on an extremely slick runway covered in mud and snow. 

That flight amounted to only one trip around the pattern. But with a thoroughly preheated and then warmed-up engine, the engine did, in fact, reach normal operating temperature as I was turning downwind. The ensuing sketchy runway conditions were bad enough to make me call it a day, but having gotten my engine up to temp, I effectively reset its “sitting on the ground” meter, and I felt better about having to leave it parked for the following weeks.

To ease the strain of starting an engine in frigid temperatures, I do a few things. First, I invested in the best engine preheating system money could buy, utilizing my rule that if the cost to upgrade from the cheapest to the best product available is three figures or less, I just do it. Like most systems, my Reiff preheater has a heating element on the oil pan…but it also has a metal band mounted around each cylinder to heat the entire engine evenly. This also prevents the introduction of piping-hot oil into ice-cold cylinders during start-up.

Similarly, I make a point of storing quarts of oil at home in a warm kitchen cabinet. This way, you’re adding nice warm oil into the engine if you need to add a quart. If your significant other complains about 20W-50 next to the corn flakes, simply put the situation into perspective by pointing out how you could be building an entire experimental aircraft at home but choose instead to hangar a prebuilt example at the airport for their convenience.

On the evening before each winter flight, I’ll drive out to the airport to plug in the preheater. Yes, there are devices to remotely activate such systems via a cellphone or Wi-Fi signal, but I take the opportunity to inspect both the airplane and runway. More than once, I’ve discovered an abysmal snow plowing job, mechanical issue, or some other problem that would have resulted in a canceled flight the following morning.

With a properly cared for and warmed-up engine, my next concern is my proficiency, particularly as a relatively new tailwheel pilot. Just as it’s bad to let your engine sit unused for extended periods, the same goes for your skills. With a typical Monday through Friday 9-to-5 schedule, the lack of daylight in the northern states this time of year effectively limits flying to only Saturday and Sunday. From there, low ceilings or high winds only have to occur a few times to thoroughly ruin a month of flying.

It’s a balancing act. On one hand, you want to respect your personal limits when you’re beginning to get rusty. On the other hand, pushing your limits a bit on a less-than-perfect day might give you the mental reset you need to sharpen your skills and regain some confidence. This will better prepare you to get through the next long period of poor weather and no flying.

It’s always good to go up with an instructor from time to time. If faced with a marginal day with, for example, winds outside of your personal limits, it might be a great opportunity to go up for a lesson, giving you the mental and mechanical reboot necessary to get through another few weeks on the ground.

The post Managing the Doldrums of Winter appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Like many others who grew up in southeastern lower Michigan, where allegiance to either Ford or Chevy was far more critical than any political leanings, I regularly entertain fleeting fantasies of vintage car ownership. Cars from that era are to modern vehicles what vinyl is to digital downloads. They require more attention, but the experience is a pure one that connects with the soul in a way the latest tech-laden, stability-controlled wündercars never will. 

But whenever I dive into researching the ownership of such sweet machines, I’m quickly reeled back to reality by a certain factor that is common among classic cars and  airplanes. Lurking beneath the bodywork are myriad concerns one must become familiar with to keep the machine in good running order.

There are many cars and airplanes that require relatively little attention outside of adding fuel and taking them out for a rip. A factory-new Cessna or Cirrus, for example, and nearly any modern car. But the older and more interesting ones demand more, and many prospective owners underestimate or overlook just how much more.

• READ MORE: Is It Better to Buy Your Last Airplane First?

To maintain a vintage airplane—even a modest one—in safe, reliable condition on a real-world budget, one must view the knowledge of its inner workings and maintenance as an entirely separate hobby in and of itself. Like any new hobby, this requires time and attention above and beyond flying and cleaning the airplane. From networking with other owners to proactively sourcing difficult-to-find parts to learning about the latest tips and tricks in type-specific forums, one must become an enthusiastic expert on the history, design, and maintenance of the airplane.

My friend Chris is a good example. A few years ago, he purchased a classic Bellanca Super Viking. It’s a sweet machine, with 300 horsepower and a cruise speed that’s twice that of my 170. With a wood and fabric airframe, complex systems, and limited parts availability, it can be described as an airplane for “advanced” owners. Owning one of these is playing airplane owner on hard mode.

Fortunately, Chris possesses the motivation and interest necessary to embrace the challenge. When he was a kid, his father owned one, and his childhood produced many nostalgic memories of flying with dad. Accordingly, diving headfirst into the world of Viking ownership is a meaningful endeavor for Chris, and he has happily earned what I estimate is the equivalent of an associate’s degree in Super Viking ownership since purchasing it.

Similarly, my friend Kristin recently purchased a Cessna 170B and has assigned herself the task of learning all the minutiae of the type, from sourcing parts to addressing known weak points of the airplane to updating certain systems with modern components. For months, she peppered me with random questions via text. How do 170 owners deal with the limited clearance for radios behind the panel? Is it really advisable to remove the parking brake entirely? What about that landing gear reinforcement kit I’ve been hearing about? Is it worth it?

Both Chris and Kristin have made it their mission to become the most informed aircraft owners possible. Their interest and motivation are so strong, few things will ever catch them off guard. They know what parts and components are next up for overhaul or replacement. They’ve learned which mechanics in their area are the most qualified to work on their airplanes. And, accordingly, neither they nor their bank accounts are likely to be caught by surprise anytime soon.

It can be argued that if a prospective vintage aircraft owner doesn’t have the time or motivation to spend an hour or two studying and learning their aircraft type for every hour they spend flying, they’re taking a concerningly passive approach to ownership. People do this all the time, but these are the same people who overlook key maintenance items and don’t know where to turn when an obscure part requires replacement. Their passiveness erodes safety to a certain degree, and it results in an increase in both expense and downtime.  

• READ MORE: Love the One You’re With

As I investigated those old diesel Mercedes sedans more closely, I learned a lot. I learned how the floor pans happily deteriorate and rust out if a shaker of salt so much as glances in their direction. I learned that their insanely complex vacuum systems were apparently designed around witchcraft and dark magic. And I learned that if one lacks the time and knowledge to perform their own maintenance, one would be well-advised to marry into a family of qualified mechanics.

Before long, I realized that I most certainly do not possess the time or drive to earn the equivalent of an associate’s degree in Vintage Mercedes Studies. I knew my limits, and I knew I just wanted to be able to hop in and cruise around, fat, dumb, and happy. And my limited research revealed that, like a vintage aircraft, this machine is not at all suited to an owner like me.

So whether it’s a vintage aircraft or automobile, take a step back before diving in. Evaluate the amount of free time at your disposal. And consider the research and ownership of such a machine to be a hobby in and of itself, separate from operating it, and worthy of its own time and mental energy.

The post Vintage Aircraft Ownership Is Best Viewed as 2 Hobbies in 1 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Ah, yes, there are reports that need writing, oil that needs changing, and wrenches that require spinning. As idle hands are the devil’s workshop, let’s take a page from our British cousins’ playbook and “best get on with it.”

The year gone by, 2023, leaves us with more questions than answers, and in aircraft maintenance, that is not a good thing. We know that interest rates are up, consumer confidence is down, and the prop on the airplane spins around. That is about the extent of it.

Planning out one’s actions need not cause dread. With the proper intel, opportunities exist, even in a down market. The best thing to do is map out a strategy, stick to the plan, and hope for the best. 

While I do not claim to hold all the secrets of tomorrow, there is enough industry chatter to give us a rough idea of what will come. After consulting aviation experts, here are my top guesses for aircraft maintenance trends in 2024.

Air Traffic Increase

Topping the list of aircraft maintenance trends is an increase in air traffic. FAA representative Angela Stubblefield recently said: “The No. 1 trend is the rebound and continued increase in air traffic.” What does that have to do with maintenance, you say? More flight hours and cycles equal an accelerated maintenance schedule. Oil changes, tire replacements, and even windshield wiper blade swaps increase the more you fly.

I believe business and GA travel is better than flying commercial. When I travel by air in a Beechcraft, chances are I am friends with the pilot and have a connection to them. With everyone cramming back into the airline terminals at KATL, the same percentage of folks are headed to their GA airport.

This leads us to another factor to consider: ground traffic at airports. This can elicit a greater chance of hangar or ramp rash for aircraft. Have you ever taxied too far to port or starboard to avoid another aircraft? In doing so, if you hit a taxi light, your engine could suffer sudden stoppage. You know what that means. Call your insurance broker.

Spare Part Material Cost

Have you been to the store recently? Aircraft part costs are increasing. The supply chain has yet to recover from COVID 19 pandemic-induced shuttered factories, reduced inventory levels, and personnel layoffs.

Locatory.com, an aircraft parts e-commerce platform, tackled this subject in a recent article. While acknowledging some recent gains in the spare parts arena, it said “evident shortages persist due to a complex interplay of factors.” This leads to cost increases, parts scarcity, and long manufacturing lead times.

It is the simple law of economics. Anytime demand exceeds supply, the price goes up. This is different from discretionary spending too. To fly, one must maintain. It is possible to skip maintenance, although no one recommends that. 

Sustainability

As you most likely have guessed by now, sustainability will always make the list of trends. It must. As aircraft evolve, our processes, practices, and policies need to follow.

Solutions provider Poente Technical offers this insight: “With a heightened focus on environmental sustainability, MRO [maintenance, repair, and operations] in 2024 will witness an increased integration of eco-friendly practices. From using sustainable materials in repairs to implementing green technologies in maintenance processes, the industry is aligning with global efforts to reduce its carbon footprint.”

Couple that with the move to unleaded avgas, and we will have plenty to discuss in 2024.

Technical Labor Shortage

Finding technical talent is challenging enough, but the departure of experience during the pandemic makes it even harder now. This predicament is not going to get better anytime soon. What is the industry doing about it?

General Electric discusses apprenticeship programs, building partnerships, and trying new models to recruit and retain workers. It has successfully partnered with the state of Massachusetts to attract and train technical talent.

Programs aside, there must be a way to get the youth excited about aviation again. Events held during National Aviation Day are a good start, but we cannot simply focus on this need one day a year. We need more involvement, much earlier than in college, when students have already chosen a career path.

Predictive Maintenance

Most people associate predictive maintenance with major airlines, but there is a growing trend for business and GA. This will need to develop over time, but we can stay close to the airlines and track their progression. Any advancements in that area will eventually flow down to lighter aircraft.

Why is predictive maintenance so essential? Brighter Directions puts it this way: “Delays in flights due to a potential malfunction, the anxiety of having a safe flight across borders, expensive tickets due to continuous upkeep, etc., are a few of the many factors that can be resolved through predictive maintenance.”

We will investigate these topics and more over the coming months. So everyone gets settled, buckle in, and prepare to taxi into 2024. As always, drop me a note and tell me what I missed.

The post Top Aircraft Maintenance Trends for 2024 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Earlier this week, I went up for my first flight of the year on a cold and overcast New Year’s Day. And while I always make an effort to objectively evaluate my decision making in my still-new-to-me Cessna 170, I didn’t expect to learn three new lessons and enact three new personal rules after one short flight. But that’s precisely what happened as I kicked off a new year of flying.

The first lesson took place before I’d even completed the preflight. My first clue that something was amiss occurred when I retrieved my tire pressure gauge from the small flight bag I keep in the front passenger seat. I noticed bits of shredded paper towel littering the bag. Making a mental note to continue placing my custom-cut aluminum bands around each tire to keep mice out of the airplane, I continued my preflight. 

A short time later, while carefully inspecting my tailwheel on my hands and knees, I made eye contact with the culprit. There, staring at me in the face from a small access hole at the base of the rudder, was a small brown field mouse.

A few choice selections of profanity scared it back into the fuselage. Fortunately, however, some light drumming on the side of the empennage scared it back out of the hole, and it leaped from the airplane and scurried away. A closer inspection of my flight bag connected the dots—I’d left a couple of energy bars in the bag after my last flight, and the mouse had set up camp, helping itself to the feast.

New rule No. 1: No more leaving energy bars in the airplane.

• READ MORE: Buyer Be Aware: Having Your Own Airplane Is So Worth It

Thoroughly preflighted and apparently mouse-free, I hopped in and started the engine. Because I was the only one at the airfield, I opted to take a shorter route from my hangar to the runway. This route utilizes a dirt driveway that borders a large ditch. And it wasn’t until I advanced the throttle and tested the brakes that I realized there was a gradual slope all the way from my hangar to that ditch.

Brakes locked, the airplane slid toward the ditch at a crawling pace as I willed it to come to a stop. I used every trick my lifetime of winter driving in the Great Lakes region had taught me, including releasing the brakes to obtain some directional traction, but the ditch loomed ever closer. Just as I was creating a plan to pull the mixture and at least save the prop and engine, the right main mercifully encountered a small patch of gravel and the airplane ground to a stop. 

As I only recently moved into my new hangar, I’d never taken this taxi route in the winter. Accordingly, I’d never noticed the gradual slope and treacherous ditch. It was a chilling eye-opener, and I was ultimately able to cling to the hallowed strip of gravel and proceed to the runway safely. 

New rule No. 2: No taking the short taxi route with snow or ice on the ground.

Run-up complete, I trundled my way out onto the 3,100-by-90-foot grass strip and backtaxied to the end. On the way out, I made a mental note of an icy, muddy patch in the center of the runway about 600 feet from the threshold. I’m no stranger to operating on snow at this strip, but the odd combination of 1 to 2 inches of icy snow and muddy, unfrozen soil beneath robbed me of traction and made it challenging to turn around. An old skiplane trick of full forward yoke and some short blasts of power finally brought the tail around, and I was good to go at last.

The brisk temperature rewarded me with a density altitude of around 1,500 feet below sea level. I made a mental note to brag about this to a certain California-based friend who takes every opportunity to boast about his state’s warm winter climate. My beloved McCauley seaplane prop clawed through the thick winter air, making the most of my airplane’s modest 145 hp and clearing the muddy patch with ease. 

The takeoff was uneventful, but the variable wind had developed into a healthy crosswind from the left. I kept this in mind, and on downwind, I took a step back and evaluated the situation. I was barely able to keep the airplane out of the weeds during my taxi out to the runway. Once there, I had difficulty turning around. And now I was setting up to land on a particularly slick surface with a crosswind.

Much as I wanted to spend an hour or two in the air, hammering out landing after landing, I decided not to press my luck. I was handling the hazards successfully thus far and could likely continue my pattern work safely, but doing so would expose me to an element of risk that, while not unmanageable, was not at all necessary. Leaving some power in during the flare, I made sure to bleed off as much energy as possible before touching down and did so safely and with no issues. 

Turning around was a different story. Once again, I struggled to turn around on the runway and skated my way back to the hangar, making sure to take the long route back. I was happy to call it a day and abandon the out-of-kilter risk-reward scenario in favor of some University of Michigan football in the Rose Bowl from the comfort of my couch.

New rule No. 3: No pattern work on snowy runways with a crosswind in excess of 5 knots.

Although I only logged 0.1 hours of flight time, it was a particularly educational flight. Best of all, with the exception of a couple of energy bars and a shredded paper towel, there was no property damage to contend with. That’s a win no matter how you chalk it up, and with that, the day of new rules was more successful than any my sister and I had experienced in our household years ago.

The post Making Personal Rules appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Yes, I am talking about insurance renewal. 

As our first year wound down, I was thinking more about annual inspection, our hangar lease, and database updates for Annie’s instruments than dealing with insurance. I knew renewal time was coming up, but after a good year with nearly 100 flight hours and no insurance claims or other mishaps, I was not expecting trouble.

• READ MORE: The Shortest Year: It’s Time for Your Ideal Aircraft’s Annual Inspection

Perhaps I should have braced myself after my insurer sent a letter a couple of months before my term was up to let me know it might or might not renew my insurance. I think the note’s main purpose was to make sure I was not expecting an automatic renewal without having to file a new application. It all seemed reasonable, but I could have used a bit more warmth.

The initial quote for renewal was disappointingly high but decreased considerably once I updated my flying time. So far the terms for a second year of insured flying were agreeable. Then the phone rang. It was my insurance agent with one of those “oh, by the way” comments that you do not want to hear.

He told me the underwriters would not cover Annie at the same hull value as last year. This year’s figure would be 26 percent less. It had been a long week. My heart sank, my scalp began to sweat, and I had to fight back a profane tirade that would not have helped at all. At least there was some comic relief. When I got the call, I had just boarded a commercial flight. We were sitting at the gate, and I knew the cabin crew would soon close the door. From the middle seat I had neither the time nor space to mount a counterattack.

• READ MORE: Make Time for Long Solos in Your Ideal Aircraft

Another funny thing: I have followed the used aircraft market closely for more than a decade, and these days work requires even deeper immersion in a range of market trends. The revised hull value means that if anything terrible happens to Annie, I might be able to replace her with what? A Piper Arrow? I recently spotted a 1975 Cessna 172 like the one I soloed in that is for sale at the price the insurer slapped on Annie. Nothing against the dedicated Arrow and Skyhawk drivers out there, but I am truly peeved. The market has soared in recent years, and I do not think it is ever going back to 2010 levels. I feel like I would have to travel at least that far back in time to make the latest insurance numbers work. Why am I getting zero lift from this rising tide?

After talking with friends about this, I realize I am not alone, and owning an “orphan” airplane like the Commander does not help. Nor does shopping around, as I keep encountering the same numbers anyway. More than one broker told me I would be better off with my current insurer since I already have a “relationship” there.

I sensed a hint of “pipe down and pay up” in that advice. Perhaps I will take it. After all, you really are not allowed to complain about owning an airplane.

The post Insuring Your Ideal Aircraft: Bracing for the Ups and Downs appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

One aspect that few people take into consideration—early in the process, anyway—is ergonomics. This is primarily only a concern with particularly large and small pilots, but it’s an important one nonetheless. Certain aircraft types are simply incompatible with people of certain sizes, and these are pilot/machine combinations to avoid. 

As a larger person who tends to require more shoulder room than most, I learned early on that I’m not suited to certain types. Paired with an instructor of similar size during my primary training in a Cessna 152, I assumed it was customary for both occupants to have to inhale deeply to enable both doors to close. And I assumed it was normal to then have very little (comfortable) range of motion after being squished inside. 

While these uncomfortable realities are perhaps not terribly uncommon, they’re not entirely necessary, especially when buying your own airplane. So, when I fell in love with the flying characteristics of the Cessna 140, I ultimately decided to save my money for another couple of years so I could afford the larger and decidedly less cramped Cessna 170. It was money well spent. Although I would never describe the 170 as a roomy airplane, it improves greatly upon the discomfort of the 140.

But a more interesting question is what types are especially well suited to particularly large or small pilots. Some dedicated investigation can reveal some compelling types that your size, large or small, can unlock. These might be types that you’d never have otherwise considered.

The North American/Ryan Navion was a pleasant surprise when I reviewed it for an upcoming installment of FLYING’s “Air Compare” feature in the print edition. With a cabin that’s spacious enough to enable passengers to move between the front and back seats and a number of controls that require a good reach to access, larger pilots will feel as though the airplane was made just for them.

Similarly, the Cessna 180, 182, and 185 all have quite tall instrument panels and heavy controls, particularly the elevator in the flare with full flaps. They have ample cabin space and enough useful load that baggage and a second sizable occupant is rarely a factor. Like the Navion, these airplanes are entirely flyable by people of all sizes, but larger pilots will likely find them a comfortable, natural fit.

Most large pilots don’t even consider smaller machines like the Luscombe for good reason. The tiny side-by-side cabin is only 39 inches wide. But there’s a sneaky way into Luscombe ownership for larger folks, and it comes in the form of the rare T8F “Observer.” Equipped with tandem (one seat in front of the other) seating, this placement provides twice the shoulder room as a standard Luscombe. A relatively limited useful load remains a restriction, however, and larger pilots generally have it worse than smaller ones because of this.

Speaking from experience, larger pilots look at our bantamweight colleagues with a healthy dose of envy. How nice it would be to instantly have an extra hundred pounds of useful load, or alternatively, less weight with correspondingly better performance. Our abilities to manage heavy control forces and move airplanes around on the ramp with ease are quickly forgotten as we observe departure-end obstacles looming ever closer during one of our luxuriously ponderous climbs.

In addition to enjoying better performance and load-carrying ability, smaller pilots enjoy a backstage pass into a number of correspondingly small aircraft types. The achingly cool Culver Cadet, for example, with its beautiful elliptical wing and retractable gear, offers only about 35 inches of cabin width to its two occupants seated side by side. Even average-sized pilots find this to be cramped, so to be able to fly one around comfortably is a privilege indeed.

The single-seat Mooney M-18 Mite is a type that similarly only accommodates smaller people. An extreme example is the Quickie, an even tinier single-seat—and experimental—aircraft that, with an 18 hp engine, boasts a max cruise speed of 115 mph (100 knots) and can achieve 100 miles per gallon. While either of these can carry a slightly heavier pilot, the cramped cabin limits access to smaller ones.

Not all is fun and games for our smaller friends, however. Fighting an old, stiff fuel hose while climbing up onto a high-wing aircraft isn’t fun for anyone and may be nearly impossible. Getting into and out of a taildragger with big Alaskan Bushwheels can feel like it requires crampons and a rope. And simply moving an airplane around on the ramp or into and out of a hangar, particularly in slippery winter conditions, can become futile. 

The biggest opportunity for the prospective airplane buyer is to take these sorts of concerns into account early in the shopping process. Talk to others of similar size in online forums. Better yet, attend as many fly-ins as possible. There, you can try airplanes on for size and chat with owners of similar size to make a decision you’ll be happy with for the long term.

The post Sizing Up Your New Aircraft appeared first on FLYING Magazine.