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I’ve always liked the Cessna Cardinal. With its sleek, cantilever wing and raked tail, it seemed like a step up from the more pedestrian Skyhawk. There was even a retractable gear version—though whether that was a feature or a bug remains debatable.
By my best recollection, the following event took place in the fall of 1986. If it happened today, with smartphones in every pocket, there’d be video from five angles and a TikTok recap by sunset. But back then, we had no digital record—just memory. And mine assures me I’ll never forget what happened.
It started with a Sunday afternoon phone call. Art, a friend from the nearby airport, told me that John, a local pilot out for a casual flight, had radioed in with a problem. He wasn’t getting the green light to confirm his landing gear was fully extended in his Cessna Cardinal RG. The two main wheels were down, but the nose gear was stuck in the up position.
Since I was the only aircraft mechanic on the field, Art thought I might have some advice. The ink was barely dry on my newly earned Aircraft Maintenance Engineer license, and I had zero experience on that particular airplane. A smarter man would have politely declined the opportunity to be part of a potential accident. I was not that man.
Two thoughts came to mind. First—somewhat selfishly—I was relieved that I had never worked on that aircraft, so I was off the hook for liability. Second, I had absolutely no idea what to do. My limited experience with Cessna retractable gear came from the 337 Skymaster, and it didn’t inspire much confidence.
I needed time to think, so I suggested John try a few steep turns. Maybe some G-loading would help unstick the nose gear. No luck. My next idea was something I had learned as a relatively new pilot: a firm bounce on the runway using the main gear. Still nothing.
While John circled above, we kept talking on the radio.
At that point, it became clear John was going to have to land without the nose wheel. That’s when things got interesting. He asked me to call the local fire department to be on standby. This wasn’t a big city airport, so no foamed runway. But the police arrived, along with fire trucks and an ambulance. Before long, they closed off the roads near the airport, and half the town turned up to watch.
While John circled above, we kept talking on the radio. Even with the odds stacked against us, we realized there were still a couple of cards to play—maybe jokers, but cards nonetheless.
The first bit of luck was a nice, smooth grass runway next to the paved one. That would help soften the landing and reduce damage. Second, there was a strong south wind blowing straight down the runway—great for slowing the airplane’s groundspeed. Both were small but welcome advantages.
Then we came up with one more idea. I had previously worked at a propeller overhaul shop and had seen the damage caused when a spinning prop contacts the runway—turning a precision-machined piece of aluminum into a pretzel. Not to mention the cost of the resulting engine teardown.
So I suggested something no sane pilot wants to hear: shut down the engine on short final and try to stop the propeller with the blades horizontal, parallel to the ground. That way, the prop might clear the runway entirely and be spared.
John was game. On the first attempt, he lined up perfectly, flaps down, engine off—but that helpful south wind turned into a curse. It was clear he wouldn’t make the runway. I was relieved to hear the engine roar back to life as he restarted it and went around.
The second attempt was textbook. John shut down the engine on short final and managed to stop the prop in the ideal position. He touched down smoothly, held the nose off as long as he could, and let it settle gently. The airplane came to rest at what looked like walking speed. A few spectators may have gone home disappointed, but John and I were relieved beyond words.
He climbed out calmly. The police, on the other hand, sprang into action. They staked off the area around the airplane as if it were a crime scene. The officer in charge was apoplectic when I came barreling down the runway on my moped—with my five-year-old son riding shotgun. He finally calmed down when I explained that I was the mechanic who had been in contact with John the entire time. After a few phone calls—including one to Transport Canada—we were cleared to inspect the aircraft.
With a couple of strong backs pushing down on the tail, we raised the nose and found the culprit: the nose wheel had jammed in the wheel well due to a broken torque link bolt. That allowed the shock strut to overextend and trap the wheel. Fortunately, the only real damage was a soup-bowl-sized dent in the bottom cowling—easily repaired.
A few days later, a government accident inspector arrived. After a quick look, he offered his verdict: “Looks like that broken bolt probably came off a piece of farm equipment.” Beyond that, no harm, no foul. He did mention how lucky we were the airplane didn’t tip over completely and flip upside down. That would have resulted in far more than a dent to pound out.
We caught a few other breaks too. That stiff headwind helped. A crosswind would have made things far more difficult. And fuel-injected engines aren’t always quick to restart when hot—thankfully, that wasn’t a problem on John’s go-around.
Most importantly, John kept his cool. A panicked pilot might have tried to stretch that first glide, risking a stall, a spin, and almost certain disaster.
Sometimes, things work out. Still, it’s a pity smartphones weren’t around back then—this would’ve made one heck of a video.
- A Cardinal Problem - June 6, 2025
So glad that incident went well! Goes to show with some thought the outcome can often mitigate damage and save lives!
Glad the outcome worked out so well. But this story also illustrates why the advice nowadays is usually don’t try shutting down the engine to spare the teardown and proper damage.
That is essentially adding an engine out emergency to an existing emergency. The consequences if the engine had no restarted so easily in this case could have been very serious injury in landing short of the runway while attempting to a restart.
Once the plane fails to perform, you don”t owe it anything and it belongs to the insurance company. Its sole real function is to get you down alive.
Well done!!! Others have suggested leaving the prop vertical – I rode the ambulance and watched a Beechcraft Sundowner land with no nose gear (left on the tarmac at Washington National airport) at our local Eastern Shore airport. After burning off most of the fuel circling, and shutting down the electrical system, the pilot did a perfect engine off landing. The plane was quickly stopped and all three persons jumped out unharmed. We stood there looking at the bent prop tip, supporting the plane. I measured the scratch in the runway at 19 paces. I suggest that this might be a safer alternate for the occupants (less risk of overturning the plane), albeit clearly more damage to the aircraft. Then I decided I wanted to become a pilot!! (now retired, ATP, CFI)
I remember as if were yesterday. Actually it was November 23, 1968 9:30 PM
PST. I had just received my Private certificate in September. I had recently checked out in a 1964 Cessna 210C Centurion. I was asked two friends if they wanted to depart San Carlos Airport, San Carlos, Ca for a quick flight to Oakland International Airport while I made a couple of approaches and landings. After my first landing
I taxied to runway 27R and rotated. Normal procedures gear up waiting for the single
red light, NO light after a second cycle still NO light. Fear went through my mind for
30 seconds then I realised I was in a situation few pilots experience possibly one time in their careers. The real possibility of declaring an emergency. I notified the tower
of my quandary requesting to leave the airport traffic area. After attempting to extend
the fear with the hand pump no luck. At that point flew close to the tower while the
Used a spot light then telling stating the left main gear was partially extended. After
several attempts to dive from 8,000 ft their was no luck using gravity to force it into
Position, Finally I declared an emergency with Oakland tower had them notify my FBO what was occurring. A gear up famously called a belly landing on 27L. Approaching the runway my two passengers were ready to jump out and run as
soon as we stopped. Approaching the emergency vehicles were in position
with lights flashing. As we neared the runway, I shut the engine down, turned off
The fuel line and proceeded to see the evening sky light up with sparks, screeches
and a sudden stop after 300 to 400 feet of runway. SUCCESSFUL. All safe, out of
the plane and showing my still temporary license to the FAA. He informed what
a great landing and I should and have a strong drink. I informed I couldn’t since I
was only SEVENTEEN. This is a story my kids have heard many times over the last
50 plus years.