The Joby eVTOL flew from the well-known Downtown Heliport (KJRB) in Manhattan, where New York Mayor Eric Adams on Monday announced the city’s plans to electrify the heliport. The move would be a major step toward development of an eVTOL transport network in New York, a city known for a range of mobility challenges.

“By electrifying one of the most famous heliports in the world, New York is demonstrating global leadership in the adoption of electric air travel. We’re grateful for the support of the city, and we’re honored to be working with visionary partners like Delta Air Lines to bring our air taxi service to this market,” said JoeBen Bevirt, Joby’s founder and CEO. “We plan to make quiet, emissions-free flight an affordable, everyday reality for New Yorkers, while significantly reducing the impact of helicopter noise.”

Joby said the demonstration flight followed several days of preparation flights at the HHI Heliport (65NJ) in Kearny, New Jersey. The company previously announced that it expects New York to be one of its early launch markets after receiving certification for its piloted, four-passenger eVTOL aircraft.

• READ MORE: Joby’s Electric Air Taxi Is Now Flying with Pilots on Board

Joby said its aircraft can fly up to 100 sm on a charge and is optimized for rapid, back-to-back flights. It could complete nearly all typical trips across the five New York boroughs. While the notoriously difficult journey from Manhattan to John F. Kennedy International Airport (KJFK) can take more than an hour by car, Joby expects to make the trip in seven minutes by air.

“The Adams administration has been a leader in driving technology innovation and economic growth while simultaneously improving quality of life,” said Andrew Kimball, president and CEO of the New York City Economic Development Corporation (EDC). “EDC’s new strategy for the Downtown Manhattan Heliport reflects these priorities while making it an industry leader in the embrace of eVTOLS—a quieter and greener helicopter alternative.”

Joby said it is working with partner Delta Air Lines, the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey and the New York City EDC as they plan for eVTOL operations. Efforts include development of infrastructure at KJFK and LaGuardia Airport (KLGA). Delta said these plans will build on other recent improvements it has made at its New York hubs.

“Delivering exceptional experiences for our customers is why Delta has invested over $7 billion in New York City, especially at our LaGuardia and JFK hubs,” said Gail Grimmett, senior vice president of sustainability performance and strategic partnerships at Delta. “[Monday’s] announcement demonstrates the great progress that’s been made toward launching clean, quiet, and convenient air taxi services for Delta customers traveling to and from New York, and is a testament to our innovative partners at Joby and the support of Mayor Eric Adams in advancing new and sustainable technologies.”

Joby said it has flown more than 30,000 miles with its full-scale prototype eVTOL aircraft since 2017. The company’s pilot production plant in Marina, California,  recently completed its first aircraft. Joby also delivered an electric air taxi to the U.S. Air Force for testing. Joby expects to begin commercial passenger service in 2025.

The post Joby Performs First eVTOL Test Flights in New York appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Though Audrey Hepburn didn’t actually deliver that line in her 1954 film Sabrina, it’s widely attributed to her, and having lived in Paris for three years, I couldn’t agree more. To this day, I never need an excuse to go. I’d happily hop the pond to La Ville-Lumière for the opening of an envelope.

But on one day in April 2000, Paris became a great idea, an incredible idea, une très, très bonne idée—no, that’s not hyperbolic enough. On one April day, Paris became the best idea ever, as I booked myself on Air France Flights AF001 and AF002 aboard Concorde for a round trip from New York’s John F. Kennedy International Airport (KJFK) to Paris’ Charles de Gaulle Airport (LFPG).

To say a flight on Concorde (not “the” Concorde) was unlike one on any other commercial aircraft is an understatement. The delta-winged Concorde was a truly unique airplane and an extraordinary feat of aeronautical engineering, especially for its time. Incorporating groundbreaking technologies like fly-by-wire, it was as stunning and graceful as it was swift, scorching the stratosphere at altitudes high enough to make a flat-earther blush. On my particular flights, we got up to FL580 and Mach 2.02—faster than a bullet and high enough to plainly see the curvature of the Earth.

• READ MORE: Tripping the Light Fantastic

From its first flight a few months before Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon to its first commercial flights in 1976—G-BOAA, London to Bahrain and F-BVFA, Paris to Rio de Janeiro via Dakar, Senegal—to its final flights 27 years later, Concorde captured hearts, minds, and dreams around the world. Coincidentally, F-BVFA is also the airplane I flew on from New York City to Paris. It is now on display at the National Air and Space Museum’s Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. 

Tuesday, October 24 marks the 20th anniversary of the final scheduled commercial flights of Concorde. On that day, British Airways Concorde G-BOAG, as BA002, took off from JFK, with chief pilot Mike Bannister at the controls, and landed at London’s Heathrow Airport (EGLL) a scant few hours later, but not before “Alpha Golf” formed up with two other Concordes for a low formation pass over London.

Alpha Golf is now on display at the Museum of Flight in Seattle. On its way to retirement—because of course it did—G-BOAG set a New York-to-Seattle speed record of 3 hours, 55 minutes, 2 seconds, flying supersonic over Canada along the way. As one would expect, Concorde holds many speed records, including the fastest Atlantic crossing and New York to London in 2 hours, 52 minutes, 59 seconds.

The final scheduled passenger flight for an Air France Concorde came earlier in 2003 on May 31. That morning, Concorde F-BTSD, as AF001, departed JFK at 8:15 a.m. and landed at 4:30 p.m. local time in Paris. That airframe is on display near Paris at the National Air and Space Museum of France, located at Paris Airport-Le Bourget (LFPB) .

There are just three Concordes on display in the U.S. In addition to the two mentioned earlier, British Airways G-BOAD is preserved at the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum in New York City.

I recently caught up with both Bannister and John Tye, another British Airways Concorde captain, and asked them both what they thought about this anniversary. 

“I was fortunate enough to fly that last flight from New York to London,” said Bannister. “Every time I go to Brooklands [Museum near London] and look at the stylish lines of our Concorde there, she still looks like she was designed only a few years ago, very 21st century. I also still find it difficult to get my mind around just how technically advanced she was—an aeroplane that could carry 100 passengers 1,350 miles per hour across the Atlantic in great safety. We did something then that can’t be done now.

“When we look at Concorde, there is nothing like it today. It’s amazing to think that the last flight was 20 years ago. It seems like yesterday, both literally and metaphorically.”

Tye wasn’t flying any of the final flights.

“I was at a beach bar in Barbados, rum and coke in hand and tears streaming down my face as I watched Mike land that last airplane,” Tye said. “On October 24, there will be a big crew reunion at Brooklands. All flight crew, cabin crew, ground staff, 196 people coming together. Concorde is an aluminum tube. It’s the people who brought her alive, made her so special. We were just the privileged ones who got to fly Concorde and get paid for it—absolutely astonishing.”

Look for more in 2024 from FLYING Media Group on Concorde. I will detail not only my own experiences flying on the airplane but also bring you along as we meet the pilots who flew Concorde and get into the weeds with them about what she was really like to fly.

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared on Plane & Pilot.

The post October 24 Marks 20 Years Since Final Scheduled Concorde Flights appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

McSpadden, 63, and Francis, 70, were flying a Cessna 177RG that belonged to Lake Placid Air Service. The purpose of the flight, where McSpadden was in the right seat, was a photo mission for AOPA magazine. Both men held commercial pilot certificates. Per company procedure for photo flights, the pilot/owner (Francis) was to fly the airplane during the takeoff, climbout and landing, and after joining up in formation, the pilot-rated passenger (McSpadden) would have taken over the controls and flown the airplane as the photo shoots require formation flying. McSpadden, a former member of the Air Force Thunderbirds, had decades of experience as a formation pilot.

• READ MORE: Air Safety Institute’s Richard McSpadden Dies In Crash

The Airport

Lake Placid Airport (KLKP) is located at an elevation of 1,747 feet msl and has a single runway aligned 14/32, measuring 4,196 feet by 60 feet. The airport is on a plateau with tall trees close to the runway. Runway 14 has a 3.50-degree glidepath to touchdown. Obstructions include 77-foot-high trees located 884 feet from the runway, 334 feet left of centerline. Additionally, there are 13-foot-high roads on a berm some 45 feet and 145 feet from the runway threshold, and 12-foot-high trees 93 feet from the runway end, 132 feet to the right of centerline.

According to the NTSB, the aircraft took off from Runway 32 behind the Beech A36 with a photographer on board. 

Witness Statements

There were several witnesses to the event. One told investigators that when the accident airplane pulled up next to the Beech A36 on the ground that the “accident airplane’s engine then shut off, and about 10 seconds later, the engine restarted.” 

Witnesses said that during the takeoff roll, the engine surged, then did not sound as if it was producing full power in the climb. The Cardinal then “made a gentle left turn” at an altitude of approximately 300 feet to 400 feet above ground level, joining up with the Beech A36. When the aircraft were about 1,000 feet apart, the Cardinal “suddenly made a hard right turn back toward the airport”.

During the turn, the pilot of the Beech A36 heard McSpadden transmit on the common traffic advisory frequency, “We have a problem and we’re returning to the airport.”

The Cardinal did not make it to the runway. The aircraft came down about 15 feet below the lip of the plateau on an embankment off the end of the runway in a right-wing and nose-low attitude. The aircraft slid down a 30-foot embankment, coming to rest upright in a ravine some 440 feet from the approach end of Runway 14 and 250 feet to the left of the centerline. There was no fire, although fuel was pouring out of the airplane because of compromised fuel tanks.

According to witnesses interviewed by local media and FLYING, both men were conscious but getting covered with fuel draining from the aircraft. When first responders arrived, a few of the witnesses left the area to give them room to work. A few minutes later, a law enforcement official came into the FBO to report that both occupants of the aircraft had died.

The Pilots

According to FAA records, Francis held a commercial pilot certificate, with ratings for airplane single-engine land, multiengine land, and instrument airplane. He also possessed a type rating for the DC-3, and private pilot privileges for rotorcraft-helicopter. His most recent FAA-issued, second-class medical certificate was dated January 6, 2023. He reported on that date that he had accrued about 9,000 total flight hours.

McSpadden held a commercial pilot certificate for single land and sea, multiengine land and sea, and instrument airplane. He also held a type certificate for second-in-command privileges in a CE-525 Cessna Citation. He was flying on a BasicMed medical.

• READ MORE: Lessons from ‘Spad’

The Wreckage

The Cardinal’s most recent annual inspection was completed in April. At the time of inspection, the aircraft had accumulated 5,352.2 total hours of flight time, and the engine had accumulated 36.7 hours of operation since major overhaul.

In the accident sequence, the right wing had sustained upward buckling from the wingtip inboard to the aileron/flap junction, and the fuselage and empennage were slightly buckled along the right side. Control cable continuity was established from the flight control surfaces to the cockpit controls. The flaps were extended about 10 degrees; the stabilator trim was neutral.

The fuel strainer bowl was damaged, although the fuel strainer was clean. The position of the fuel selector handle was confirmed to be on “BOTH” by rotating the handle through all positions while defueling the airplane through the inlet line of the fuel strainer. The fuel caps were closed and secured. The position of the fuel pump switch could not be determined due to impact damage. There were no obstructions noted in the fuel or fuel vent system from the wing tanks to the inlet of the fuel, and no fuel contamination or blockages were found within the fuel system. Additionally, 17 gallons of fuel were recovered from the right wing fuel tank. 

NTSB investigators noted that the nose landing gear was crushed aft during the impact sequence, and the actuator was separated so the position of the nose gear could not be determined. The main landing gear was in an intermediate position and observed in contact with the buckled lower fuselage. There was no observable damage to the main landing gear down locks or gear legs.

Crush damage to the cockpit prevented investigators from determining the status of the electrical system at the time of impact. They were able to tell that the cowl flaps were open, the mixture was full rich, and the propeller set to high rpm. The throttle knob was out about 2 inches and bent slightly up and to the left about 30 degrees.

No abnormalities were noted within the engine cylinders. The engine crankshaft was rotated by the propeller in its normal direction, and suction and compression were noted on all cylinders through the top spark plug holes, with movement of all rocker arms noted during rotation. The coloration across all eight spark plugs was described as “normal to black carbon fouled, with normal wear to the electrodes.” There was no mechanical electrode damage observed on any of the spark plugs. The bottom spark plugs for cylinders No. 1 and No. 3 were oil soaked, consistent with orientation of the engine at the accident site and oil within the cylinders. The magneto produced spark at all ignition leads. No damage was observed to the magneto housing, but both ignition harnesses sustained varying levels of impact damage in the form of cuts and abrasions to multiple leads.

The oil dipstick was found securely installed. There were six quarts of oil in the engine oil sump. The oil filter had sustained a high level of impact damage and was separated from the oil filter’s threaded base. A portion of the filter element was removed, examined, and found to be clean with no metallic particles or debris present. The oil suction screen plug was found to be tight and safely wired to the oil sump. The screen was clear of any debris.

The fuel system, including the engine-driven fuel pump, fuel manifold, and fuel servo, was all found attached to the engine. The fuel injection manifold was disassembled with no debris or tears noted to its diaphragm. The fuel servo was attached to the lower side of the engine with all lines tight and secure, but all four hold-down nuts were found loose when slight pressure with a wrench was applied. Torque stripes were present on the studs and nuts and did not appear to be disturbed or misaligned. The throttle plate was found in the closed position. When the throttle arm was actuated manually, the throttle plate moved freely within the servo, but the threaded rod for the idle thumbscrew adjustment was found fractured and not connected. The fuel injection nozzles were found to be clear of any debris.

The propeller governor was found securely installed to the rear of the engine. Its screen was clear of any debris, and oil flowed from the unit when rotated by hand.

The wreckage was retained for further examination. A final report from the NTSB will be issued at the conclusion of the investigation.

The post NTSB Releases Preliminary Report on McSpadden Accident appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

McSpadden was in the right seat. Russ Francis, a former NFL tight end and the new owner of Lake Placid Airways, was in the left seat according to the Lake Placid News. AOPA spokesman Eric Blinderman stated that early reports indicate the Cardinal had “an emergency on takeoff” from Lake Placid shortly before 5 p.m. EDT.

“They tried to get back but didn’t make the runway,” said Blinderman.

The nature of the emergency wasn’t immediately known. Blinderman said more information will be available on Monday.

McSpadden was a former commander of the USAF Thunderbirds air demonstration team and joined the Air Safety Institute in 2017. He was well known in the GA community for his analyses of accidents and the safety-related content he and his staff created for free distribution. He was also highly regarded by his many friends and colleagues.

“We are beyond heartbroken,” said Blinderman. “This is the worst kind of news to process as a friend, colleague and fellow aviator.” He is survived by his wife, Judy, son Grant and daughter Annabel.

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared on AVweb.com.

The post Air Safety Institute’s Richard McSpadden Dies In Crash appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Lego has even made several name-brand representations, including the Learjet, Sopwith Camel, and the Sud Aviation Caravelle. None, however, are likely to excite LEGO-enthusiast pilots as much as the company’s latest offering, Concorde.

• READ MORE: Concorde in Photos

One can only imagine how many interpretations of the iconic supersonic airliner LEGO fans of all ages have constructed, but this latest version probably is what many of them wanted.

The 2,083-piece set is a scale model of the historic aircraft that builders can pose on its display stand in various flight modes. The set also offers detailed landing gear, a tilting nose section, and a removable roof showing the cabin interior.

Built in the 1960s as part of a joint venture between the United Kingdom and France, the real Concorde could cruise at about twice the speed of sound, or Mach 2. This impressive pace cut travel times between the U.S. and Europe down to reasonable lengths. Flights from Paris to New York took about three and a half hours, though one of the airplanes set a record of just under three hours.

The Lego model is 41.5 inches long, 17 inches wide, and more than 6 inches high. Sets will be available starting September 7 at a price of $199.99.

The post LEGO Group Gets Aviation Fans’ Attention with Unveiling of Concorde Set appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

It’s possible the rise in shark encounters is simply a fluke: There were actually fewer attacks in 2022 than in the previous year, and the rate of them has remained steady over the past few decades. But on Friday, recognized internationally as Shark Awareness Day, Hochul announced a major expansion of New York’s efforts to combat shark attacks with drones. 

The state deployed a small fleet of shark-monitoring drones last summer, expanding it from eight to 18 in May. Now, coastal areas of Long Island, New York City, and Westchester County will have access to as many as 60 drones.

“As beachgoers are enjoying their summer in New York, spending time on some of the most beautiful beaches in the country, we have added this eye in the sky,” Hochul said in a statement. “We have the tools and strategies to monitor marine wildlife and protect the health and safety of New Yorkers. These new drones will allow us to scan the water and help local governments across Long Island and New York City keep local beaches safe for all.”

While none of the shark attacks in New York this year resulted in loss of life or limb, the added surveillance drones so far have helped reduce beachgoers’ fears of a Jaws moment.

“Over the past two seasons, we’ve learned that drones are the most effective mechanism to detect environmental conditions that could [be attributed] to shark activity,” said Erik Kulleseid, commissioner of the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation—also referred to simply as State Parks.

Last summer, Hochul directed State Parks, the Department of Environmental Conservation, and the New York State Police to begin more rigorous patrolling of coastal areas using drones after the state recorded more confirmed shark attacks than in any year over the previous three decades.

According to Cary Epstein, a lifeguard supervisor at Jones Beach, the aircraft typically make three sweeps per day: one before the beaches open, another sometime during midday, and a third just before close. They’re also deployed following a sighting or attack, patrolling for about an hour while swimmers are asked to stay on the beach.

While in flight, the drones monitor sharks but also schools of fish, seals, and diving birds—some of the toothy predator’s favorite dishes. They also keep an eye out for certain weather conditions that are known to precede sightings and attacks.

Per Hochul’s office, one drone assigned to New York State Park Police is the heavy lifter of the bunch. It’s equipped with thermal imaging and laser range-finding capabilities, as well as high quality cameras to enable surveillance at night or in harsh weather conditions. The drone can also release personal flotation devices in emergency situations, cutting down the time it would take a lifeguard to battle the ocean waves.

Currently, 24 park police officers, State Parks operational staff, lifeguards, and certified drone operators are trained to pilot the shark-monitoring aircraft. While most areas of New York lack drone surveillance capabilities, State Parks is now distributing the aircraft to all downstate municipalities, covering the cost of training and operation. In total, the new initiative will provide up to $1 million in funding for procuring drones and training staff.

So far, the program has received glowing feedback.

“With shark sightings on the rise, these drones will further help us better monitor waters and keep beachgoers safe,” said Oyster Bay Town Supervisor Joseph Saladino. “I thank Governor Hochul for providing these eyes in the sky to local governments throughout the region.”

Added Islip Town Supervisor Angie Carpenter, “These drones will allow town lifeguards and staff to monitor our ocean waters and keep bathers safe, while ensuring they leave with happy memories.”

Town supervisors and executives from Nassau County, Southampton, Hempstead, and Long Beach also lauded the governor’s efforts, praising the ability of drones to complement lifeguards and other safety measures.

Interestingly, New York isn’t the only place drones have been deployed to monitor shark activity. Researchers at California State University-Long Beach’s Shark Lab compiled hundreds of hours of drone footage over 26 California beaches between 2019 and 2022. Their findings, published in June, revealed that humans and sharks share the same waters more often than not—unbeknownst to both swimmers and the animals.

New York, however, appears to be the first state to provide the technology to police and beach staff.

The post New York’s Response to a Flurry of Shark Attacks? Send In the Drones appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Curtiss flew lower and slower, kept an eye on chimney smoke to help in reading the wind, and made two pit stops on the way. In my case the Garmin G5 in my Commander 114B’s panel displayed a small arrow indicating wind direction and speed. I didn’t need to follow the river closely because I could track the magenta line on the GPS screen. In truth, I left that to the autopilot for much of the flight. This might have offended Curtiss. In his day flying was a physically demanding challenge.

• READ MORE: Lonely Airport With Long Runway, Interesting History, Seeks Visitors

At 5,500 feet I felt relaxed as I tweaked power settings, adjusted the cabin air vents, and took in the scenery. After clearing the hills about 30 miles south of Albany, I descended to 3,500 and called Approach. I was making a round trip from Sussex Airport (KFWN) in New Jersey as part of a long-term study of our vast airport network, including Albany’s fascinating history.

Traffic was moderate, so I received several vectors before reaching a left base for Runway 19, switching to the tower and being cleared to land. “Number two behind the 757 on a right base,” the controller said, with a note to be mindful of wake turbulence. That was my first time following an airliner to the runway. I think Curtiss would have been impressed by that experience but still would have considered me a bit too sheltered in the Commander’s comfortable cockpit.  

For the 1910 flight, he sat on a plank-like seat of his Curtiss Pusher in the open air. He wore fishing waders, leather jacket, and hat for warmth, goggles for protection, and flotation gear in case he had to ditch in the Hudson. The airplane had emergency floats as well. It might have seemed as if he was flying across an ocean instead of down a river.

• READ MORE: Why Haven’t You Flown to Ellenville Yet?

But consider the era. It was May 29, 1910, when Curtiss took off from a farm field on the outskirts of Albany for a flight to Manhattan. Aviation was in its infancy. Curtiss and other pilots typically flew their machines around fairgrounds or parade fields, where a lap or 

two would impress audiences. But the distance of about 130 nm to Manhattan was considered so far that the New York World newspaper offered $10,000 to the first pilot to complete the one-way trip. Curtiss got to choose which direction he would fly and decided on traveling southbound due to favorable winds, according to the Glenn H. Curtiss Museum in Hammondsport, New York. 

• READ MORE: Flying to Historic Kingston, New York

After about two and a half hours, Curtiss arrived in New York City to claim his prize. There were still decent landing fields available in the area back then, and no Class B airspace limiting a pilot’s options. Curtiss easily set a distance record and took credit for the first true cross-country, point-to-point flight in the U.S. The feat also changed the outlook for aviation, confirming its potential as transportation, not simply entertainment.

Years earlier I covered some of the same territory as a student during my long cross-country solo. Flying the middle leg between Columbia County Airport (1B1), just south of Albany, and Orange County Airport (KMGJ) in a Cessna 172M with a sectional on my lap (no GPS), I realized I could follow the Hudson south for at least 30 nm before having to turn west toward Orange. This was a revelation at the time.

The route I took was longer but more interesting than the direct version. It was February, the river was frozen, and I could see icebreakers at work, fighting to keep the shipping lanes open. This diversion was precious. It gave me a better feel for the airplane, the local landscape, and my navigational capabilities. I was not ready to cross an ocean yet but was confident I could still find Orange County on my new course.

For Curtiss, the river was the most reliable guide into the city. Today we can use GPS, VOR, and detailed charts. We can also follow interstate highways or simply aim for the prominent skyline. These resources were not available to Curtiss. Aviation has come a long way.

So has the Albany Airport. From farm and polo fields that early pilots used to the 1928 version with multiple turf runways to today’s international facility, the place has long been a hub of aviation activity and continues to be an inviting destination for general aviation. Million Air, the FBO, is a great spot for meetings or to pick up a rental car. There are crew cars for shorter trips into town.

The tower was sympathetic as well. As I taxied to the FBO, I heard a controller tell a Southwest 737 that was about to turn from a parallel taxiway to “make way for the Commander on your right.”

It felt like they had been looking forward to my arrival.

The post Recalling Glenn Curtiss on a Flight into Albany International appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

For the first time in more than a week, the low overcast gave way to clear skies, and wind speeds settled back to single digits. Winter weather advisories punctuated the coming week’s forecast in my Northeast region, so I was determined to make the most of what might be the last ideal flying day for a while. I got an early start on the drive to the airport with plans to revisit a few memorable cross-country routes I last flew as a student.

• READ MORE: Your Ideal Aircraft Might Be the One That’s Easy To Fly

After departing Sussex, New Jersey (KFWN), I headed for Sullivan County, New York (KMSV), for a fuel stop before continuing to Columbia County, New York (1B1), the destination of my first long solo cross-country flight. Approaching the airport, I made my 10-mile radio call. Shortly after that, I heard a pilot with a familiar voice entering the left downwind leg of the pattern. “Is that you?” he asked.

It was Ed, one of my Commander 114B’s previous owners. Small world, and perfect timing. We had tried several times, unsuccessfully, to meet up while flying. On Sunday it simply worked out. I tried my best to grease the landing, which I’m sure he observed closely, and we met at the fuel pumps, where I got to look over the 2003 Cirrus SR22 Centennial Edition he moved into after selling the Commander.

I would say he “moved up” to the Cirrus, but that would be an oversimplification. It would also potentially cut off hours of hangar talk regarding who got the better deal. Certainly the Cirrus has the advantage of being nearly a decade newer and—let’s say—dozens of knots faster.

• READ MORE: Finding Your Ideal Aircraft: Focus On the Mission, Especially When it Changes

But I could argue that the Commander’s updated panel with a Garmin GTN 750 and dual G5s trumps the Cirrus’ mix of Avidyne PFD, Garmin 430s, and steam gauges for backup. As I sat in the SR22, I could also sense the relative snugness of its cabin compared with my spacious Commander.

What quickly became clear was that our transaction was a win for both of us. Selling the Commander allowed him to leave the aluminum and rivets behind in favor of a sleek, modern composite machine. While I do not think of myself as a Cirrus kind of guy, I do consider the SR series a technical and aesthetic tour de force that set a new standard when it debuted.

As with many personal pursuits, each pilot’s approach to aviation reflects their specific interests and quirks. I think that after years of flying traditional legacy aircraft, Ed appreciates the SR22’s simplified engine controls that set the propeller’s pitch automatically, and landing gear so aerodynamic that there is no need for retraction.

Meanwhile, after a decade of flying Cessna 172s I am thrilled to finally have a greater sense of control over my power settings and a big bump in cruising speed. My inner child has waited years for the privilege of adding “positive rate, gear up” to my list of departure call-outs.

Before heading out of KSMV, Ed admitted to missing certain things about the Commander, including the smooth, forgiving way it handles. But as he departed, climbing out vigorously after a very short ground run and giving a crisp wing-wag before disappearing quickly into the distance, he didn’t seem to be missing very much.

After topping off, I headed to my next destination as well, after a slightly longer ground run, but still feeling like still feeling as if I got the better deal. Gear up.

The post Finding Your Ideal Aircraft Without Remorse for Buyer or Seller appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

My own Teterboro experiences go back a ways—a long ways. With a newly minted private pilot certificate, I first rented a Cessna 172 at what is now Atlantic Aviation in the fall of 1967, just 55 years ago. In those days, there was no Class B airspace over LaGuardia, Newark, and Kennedy airports (KLGA, KEWR, and KJFK, respectively). I was living in a dorm room in Manhattan. To get to Teterboro in order to rent an airplane involved a subway ride to the port authority bus terminal and a bus ride to the airport or, I should say, to the corner of the airport. The FBO was a good half-mile walk from the bus stop.

Once at the FBO and standing in front of the rental desk, I would declare myself suddenly current. I don’t remember the price exactly, but it couldn’t have been much in today’s dollars. Since I didn’t have much cash, I only did this two or three times a year. After all, I’d have to have the money, the weather had to be good, and an airplane had to be available.

I remember only a few flights. One was at night. You could saunter up and down the Hudson with abandon at 1,500 feet, and nobody could tell you any different. The lights of the city dazzled. Another memorable flight was during the day. I invited a cute girl from class, made a big show of knowing what I was doing, and took off. Once the Manhattan tour was over, I found myself over the George Washington Bridge, peering west into the late afternoon haze looking for Teterboro, the reliable airport from which I had departed just minutes before. The field was nowhere to be seen. Was I aware that both Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earhart had been able to find Teterboro without difficulty? No.

I headed towards where I expected Teterboro to be, saw nothing, and lost my nerve. Newark airport had to be out there somewhere too, so I headed back to the bridge—my last known position. In the 1960s, the air around New York could be foul and visibility poor. When the hour rental was almost up, I forged into New Jersey and hoped.I was almost over the tower when I saw it. That cute girl and I were married two years later.

Education, work, and the Army took me west and I didn’t see much of Teterboro until 1973, when I bought a Beechcraft Musketeer while stationed at Fort Knox, Kentucky. We could fly nonstop to Teterboro to see our families. That 581-nm trip could take up the better part of the day, but the exhilaration lasted for months.

Jobs in St. Louis, Missouri, and Chicago, Illinois, followed, as did increasingly capable airplanes, but Teterboro seemed to remain a constant. Then a classic American event occurred: Both my family and my wife’s family left New York. We had no reason to fly to Teterboro anymore.

I did have one memorable Teterboro trip 20 years later. By then, I had moved to Tampa, Florida, and was in search of a Cessna 340. I found one on the ramp at Teterboro. I flew commercially in the dead of winter to look at N6828-Charlie. The airplane sat forlornly at Meridian (an FBO on the west side of the airport), covered with snow. My excitement at potentially owning such a magnificent beast overwhelmed the gloomy skies and raw wind. I was in love.

That airplane served us very well for five years—we were based at KTPA, the big airport in Tampa—but still, there was no recurring reason to fly to the New York area.

All that changed in 2013, when I quit a surgery job and got hired by JetSuite, a Part 135 operator out of California. Assigned as a first officer to the Cessna Citation CJ3, I was in heaven and about to become intimately familiar with Teterboro airport, its surrounding burgs and restaurants, and most notably, its nearby hotels. Suddenly, I was in Teterboro at least once a week, sometimes three times a day.

I developed a favorite room selection at the Embassy Suites in nearby Secaucus. I knew just what to order in the breakfast line. I commiserated with other professional pilots billeted at the same place. Sometimes we’d check out in the morning, fly to Boston, Massachusetts, West Palm Beach, Florida, and back, and check back into the same hotel—sometimes even the same room.

Most of the time we were at Meridian, sometimes at Atlantic Aviation. In winter, it was cold and raw. In summer, it was hot and humid. Sometimes you had to wait for hours for your clearance to taxi, sometimes there was a ground stop. Sometimes we were No. 14 for takeoff. Sometimes we were issued new routing as we inched to the takeoff runway. This could make us tight on fuel. I got comfortable with the ILS 6 circle-to-land Runway 1 approach, even on wintry nights. It must be respected, though—it claimed a Learjet a few years ago even though the weather was good and it was daytime.

I experienced an interesting go-around or two at Teterboro. One was when I was the FO. I was the pilot flying and the captain was the pilot monitoring. We were cleared (again) for the ILS 6 circle-to-land Runway 1 approach. When we checked in with the tower, we were “cleared for the visual, Gulfstream departing prior to (our) arrival.” 

The tower frequency was then completely occupied by a clearance correction for another aircraft. At 200 feet, I said to the captain, who had been trying unsuccessfully to get permission to land, that we should go around. He concurred. That caught the tower’s attention. Challenged, I keyed the mic with this explanation: “No permission to land, congested frequency.” We were cleared for the downwind, no questions asked.

Now, I fly into Teterboro occasionally in the Citation CJ1 that my wife and I own. These are Part 91 trips. I always want to be on my game and professional. When I call the tower, I include our parking information. I try to maintain requested airspeeds for separation. Last week, we got a great view of Manhattan on that ILS 6 circling approach. Most pilots of private jets know this magnificent sight, including the Freedom Tower, only too well. After a soft landing, it was “left turn on Delta, Charlie, Quebec, Gulf, hold short of 24.” We were marshaled to Meridian’s front door. All those flights, all those sights, and all those years flooded the windshield of my mind.

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First, kudos to the tower controller for his timely reaction. I am certain that he took more than just a deep breath when his shift was complete. This was a nighttime operation, making it that much more difficult to assess the situation.  

And a pat on the back to the Delta crew that aborted their takeoff roll. When a controller cancels a takeoff clearance after the power levers are already set, hesitation is not an option. Rarely is that instruction heard. Despite the size of a 777, it’s not easy to see the silhouette of that airplane in the dark from a distance, wingtip nav light and rotating beacon notwithstanding. 

Anything over 80 kts is a high-speed abort. Data indicates the Boeing 737 reached approximately 105 knots—only seconds away from rotation speed. A rejected takeoff checklist would have been initiated shortly thereafter. Since the Delta flight returned to the gate, most likely an inspection on the brakes had to occur. Additionally, if the reversers were operated, the engines required an inspection.

The first reaction after listening to the recorded communication sequence is to shake your head and convict the American Airlines crew. But with most events, there’s more to the story. Let’s start with the taxi clearance.  

The controller instructed AA Flight 106, the Boeing 777, to taxi out of their ramp area at Taxiway Tango Alpha with a left on Bravo, hold short of Taxiway Kilo. The first part of the controller’s instruction included 4L as the departure runway.  Although the copilot read back the taxi instructions and the requirement to hold short of Taxiway Kilo, the runway itself was not read back. Small detail, but perhaps the crew hadn’t quite processed the information because the winds favored 31L that evening.

As AA 106 progressed in its taxi, the controller issued a clearance to cross Runway 31L at Kilo, which the copilot acknowledged. Although this a very typical clearance at JFK, (a taxi route that I’ve probably logged thousands of hours on), the intersection can be confusing, especially at night. Runway 4L, Runway 31L, Taxiway Kilo, and Taxiway Juliet, intersect at close proximity to each other.

That said, a Boeing 777 crew is usually well-seasoned. And that particular trip to London is flown by New York-based crews, so it shouldn’t have been their first rodeo. Was one of the pilots new to the airplane and not quite comfortable? Was there a distraction in the cockpit? Was the copilot involved with a task that required a heads-down operation at just the wrong moment?

In 1992, JFK Port Authority was responsible for installing a runway stop bar system that was used as a prototype to test its functionality. The system is designed to present a visual indication to pilots whether it’s safe to cross or enter a runway, with red lights embedded in the pavement for stop and green lights for go. Not all airline-type airports have the system.

It was not well-received by JFK controllers, but the equipment was not designed with ICAO (International Civil Aviation Organization) standards as it had been in Europe. The stop bar system still exists at JFK according to the airport diagram, but was it operational the evening of January 13?

Regardless, this situation warrants an objective investigation. Runway incursions are serious business. If additional factors were at play, then it’s important to utilize the information for prevention purposes. The American Airlines flight crew will have an opportunity to present their version of the event both with the FAA and the local flight office. Union representation is part of a fair process under such circumstances.  

I don’t envy the AA pilots. Regardless of the consequences, this event will remain with them for the rest of their careers. Perhaps this situation can be a valuable lesson for all of us in the aviation world. Let’s be grateful that one of the guardrails remained in the form of an alert controller. I shudder to think what the headlines would have read otherwise.

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