To be blunt, some schools are training the next generation of pilots to be excellent systems managers in a multi-crew environment, but are failing the pilots who want to use an airplane as a tool for personal travel. A Bonanza isn’t a miniature Boeing; it’s a cross-country time machine that requires a completely different set of skills, most of which aren’t found in the ACS or an accelerated syllabus.
One of the saddest things in aviation is a pilot with an instrument rating who’s afraid to use it. They look at a 1500-foot overcast and realize their $15,000 investment has become nothing more than a souvenir. Maybe they used to fly in the soup all the time and simply fell out of the habit; more likely, they can recite the holding pattern entries from the textbook but have never seen the inside of a cloud. Either way, it’s a waste of money and a missed opportunity.
I was grumpy with my friend because I hate the obsession with instant analysis, and he made me participate in this ugly trend. I was grumpy because this accident hit a little close to home, killing a father who was flying his wife and daughter in a Cirrus SR22 (something I do often). But I was mostly grumpy because go-around accidents happen far too often—and they are eminently preventable. This is one problem we should be able to solve.
Yes, this is an “old man yells at cloud” article. Yes, I can already hear the jokes about the “guard police.” I don’t care. It needs to be said: Guard frequency (121.5) has become a national embarrassment, a sign that our self-absorbed social media culture has spread to the once-boring world of aviation. We need to do better.
Researchers from the FAA show that SD accidents have not declined since 2003—in fact, quite the opposite. You might assume the widespread adoption of tools like datalink weather, modern autopilots, reliable AHRS, and electronic flight bag apps would make VFR-into-IMC (the classic SD accident scenario) much less common. It’s a great theory, but the numbers don’t support it.
Before the expletive could even leave my mouth, one of the FBO employees offered to lend me the crew car. I assumed the crew car option would be impossible, or at least impossibly bad manners, since the round trip would be nearly two hours and the FBO was closing soon. But he wouldn’t hear it: “take all the time you need and just drop the keys off with the night security guard. We appreciate your business.”
This promises to be a major advancement in cockpit technology, with benefits for pilots and passengers alike. But before diving headfirst into the Starlink pool, it would be wise to pause for just a moment and contemplate what we might lose. Don’t worry, I’m no Luddite and I’m not here to scare anyone away from an exciting new gadget. I am, however, an observer with enough experience to have seen technological breakthroughs bring unintended consequences. I fear that may happen here.
Everyone’s dream list will vary, but let me suggest 11 things that every pilot should do with their license. Call it a bucket list if you want, but I consider it a flight plan for a fulfilling life in the cockpit.
FAR 91.3 is one of the simplest and best known federal aviation regulations, and it clearly defines the most essential job as a pilot: to be the boss for the entire flight. But as obvious as this sounds, it’s surprisingly hard to do in the real world. Little by little, your authority as PIC can be eroded until no one is actually in command.
Cirrus had a controversial reputation early on, and to this day it’s the butt of some jokes. But it’s also the best selling piston airplane in the world for 20 years straight, a lone bright spot among small airplane companies who otherwise seem to be surviving on a few big flight school orders. And as I’ve repeatedly observed, the most vocal Cirrus critics are usually the ones who have never flown one.
Six years after my last list, I still hate social media and I still love books, so I’m back with more recommendations—24 good aviation books for 2024. This is an eclectic mix, so I don’t expect readers to love every suggestion, but I believe there’s something for pilots to learn from almost any book, even if it doesn’t relate to aviation directly.
Whether I’m flying IFR or VFR, most weather decisions come down to looking at clouds and trying to figure out what they are trying to say. Is that weather convective or just harmless showers? Will the ride be bumpy or smooth? Can I top that cell? Is there ice in that cloud layer? The answer almost always depends on what the clouds look like.
Having solved the impossible turn and other manufactured crises, the aviation training industry (or at least some YouTubers and keyboard warriors) has now turned its attention to the teardrop pattern entry. This “innovation” is alternately described as wildly unsafe or the only legal option for entering the traffic pattern. In reality it’s neither, but the bigger problem is that most pilots don’t even know what it means.
Earlier this year I argued that if IFR pilots wanted to prevent accidents, they should focus on the most boring of skills: basic attitude instrument flying. Now it’s time to look at VFR pilots, and to spare you the suspense, the answer is similarly prosaic: loss of control on landing damages more airplanes than any other accident scenario. What can be done?
When a high performance airplane crashes in IMC, the self-proclaimed experts on social media quickly spin elaborate theories about autopilot failure, in-flight icing, structural failure, carbon monoxide poisoning, or some other incredibly rare cause. It makes for good entertainment (“hit that subscribe button!”) but the reality is usually much less interesting and much more depressing.
Americans seem to be especially gloomy right now, according to a popular book and a report from the US Surgeon General. There are no miracle cures, but becoming a pilot can provide many of the positive experiences these experts recommend. No, I’m not suggesting the federal government mandate flight training to make American teenagers happy, but consider the following.
General aviation is growing. That simple statement would have been unremarkable to a pilot in the 1960s or 1970s, as surprising as saying the sun rose in the east that day. But for anyone who learned to fly after about 1990, and especially between 2008 and 2016, it’s a shocking thing to admit. Yet that is exactly what is happening right now, as data from a wide variety of sources show.
Instrument training is demanding, but at its most basic the goal is quite simple: keep the wings level and the needles crossed. Do that a few times with an examiner and you can pass the checkride. But if your goal is to really use your instrument rating (and do it safely), there’s a lot more to consider.
A two hour flight instead of a six hour drive through rush hour traffic—that’s what you’re hoping to pull off today, and that’s why you own an A36 Bonanza. After a week of work in Lake Charles, Louisiana (LCH), you are headed to Corpus Christi, Texas (CRP), for a long weekend and mini-family reunion. Now you just need the weather to cooperate, but at first glance it’s not a sure thing.
Assuming you are busy and have to make hard choices about what to focus on, I think there’s a strong case to be made for spending your precious flying time on basic attitude instrument skills. Flying approaches to minimums or practicing emergencies may be more fun, but those procedures are not where pilots make the most fatal mistakes.