This particular day Al was flying on his third hour of supervised solo, meaning these solo flights needed to be approved by me beforehand. Perhaps 20 minutes after his takeoff, Al called on the Unicom frequency: “Bob, I’ve got trouble with the controls.” I responded quickly. “What’s the trouble, Al?”“I can’t move the control wheel forward or back. It’s stuck a little aft of the neutral position.”
In a ten-day span pockmarked by GA incidents and accidents, a WWII era T-6 wound up engulfed in flames on the Southern California 101 Freeway; other aircraft landed on city streets and highways without incident and wound up on the local evening news. Yours truly joined the ranks of those involved in a GA mishap.
This article, published 50 years ago in Air Facts, shows how the fundamentals of instrument flying remain constant. While the technology has changed dramatically since Bob Buck wrote these words, the practical lessons are as valid today as they were in 1969.
Would more pilots fly IFR if it were easier to get an instrument rating? Would it improve aviation safety if they did? A recent proposal by the European Aviation Safety Agency (EASA) to create a “basic instrument rating” should have pilots asking those exact questions, and not just in Europe.
Fly 20 miles west of Copenhagen, Denmark, and you’ll find a beautiful coastline of islands and peninsulas. That’s where Natalie Kjaergaard was flying in her Aeroprakt A22 one afternoon when she took this beautiful photo of the sun going down over the water. Another classic sunset view from the left seat.
Everything was ready to go, except I really should go pee before we hop in the airplane…”Nah, I’ll just go when we get to our fuel stop in Kentucky.” Despite this being back in the stone age, we did have a GPS in the plane. Unfortunately I must not have been very adept at using it, because instead of the 20 knot quartering headwind that was forecast, this stupid thing kept saying I had 45 knots on the nose. “That can’t… be.. right…”
After 20 years of living in Colorado, you know that March weather in the Rockies means anything from blizzards to warm, spring-like days. Unfortunately the weather is closer to the first extreme for your planned trip tonight, a 1:30 flight from your home in Denver (BJC) to Provo, Utah (PVU), to visit your son in college.
The media uproar created by two fatal accidents in new Boeing 737 MAX airline jets makes me wonder if Boeing, or any transport jet maker, can continue to trust pilots to be a critical part of aircraft systems. Let me explain.
The flight was good, although I did notice a little burble in my seat when I put in up elevator, something loose I guessed, a fairing or something. I wished I had looked the airplane over in Cape May, but I was 20 years old and everything was full-throttle all of the time. Hell, it was flying. I forgot about it.
For John Banas, this flight was anything but routine. As he describes, it was the “first time my wife went flying with me. She’s somewhat of a white knuckle flyer, but she was thrilled with the view from the little Skyhawk. Chicago seems to be laid out specifically for people why fly GA aircraft at night.”
Today, tablets running EFB applications are common in cockpits. However, students wanting to become proficient with EFB use are left to search for training videos on YouTube and to experiment with it in flight. They are hard pressed to find a CFI who will not only teach them how to use an EFB, but also how to manage its use in the cockpit. Until recently.
I was pretty sure that we had an oil problem, but the oil temp and CHTs all seemed OK. About this time, the little voice in the back of everyone’s head had begun to chide me for not landing somewhere while things were just bothersome, not really a problem yet. Of course, I overruled it. Memo for file: pay more attention to little voices in the future.
When you fly with another pilot, you learn a lot about who they are and how they approach life. That has us wondering: if you could fly with any pilot – living or dead – who would you choose? Charles Lindbergh? Beryl Markham? Chuck Yeager? Someone more obscure – maybe a family member?
Given its string of success in evolutionary model design it was natural for people at Beech to continue to look for more ways to evolve their airplanes in new directions. In the early 1980s somebody, or perhaps a small group of people, realized they had the basis for a very good single-engine turboprop.
Sometimes the sun and clouds combine for the perfect cockpit view. That’s what helicopter pilot Scott Monroe saw on this day over Oakland, California. The rolling wave of clouds was highlighted by a low sun angle and framed perfectly by Mt. Diablo in the background. For folks on the ground, it just looked like a cloudy day.
Just as we were flying over Memphis at 11,000 feet, I was enjoying looking out at the city on my side when all of the sudden there was a huge forward surge as the engine quit and alarms, tones, and buzzers all started sounding! I immediately pulled back on the yoke and shouted, “What happened?!”
Last October my parents and I flew to the 2018 Chicago Marathon. We could have driven six hours from Ohio and paid $70/night to park the car at the hotel, flown commercially, or taken the flight school’s Piper Arrow on the 275nm flight. We elected to take the Arrow.
I spent the day after he died doing the things one does, particularly trying to figure out what to do with his ashes. One friend, a pilot at my airline, asked what the funeral plans were. I told her that we would probably inter Dad out there at the Jordan Cemetery in Indiana. Knowing something of his aeronautical passions, she texted back, “Oh, that’d be nice. He’d get one last airplane ride.”
This week’s Friday Photo comes from Aaron Ochsner, who says, “When I was a kid, I used to hike up this mountain every weekend with my dad (you can see the trail snaking up the side). Today I got a bird’s eye view of that same peak. Soon I’ll be able to take my dad up to see it with me.”
Bob was listening intently while I droned on about the dangers of getting jet fuel pumped in by accident from the wrong truck. “Like this one?” he said as soon as I stopped talking. I looked at the fuel truck sitting right in front of me, pumping fuel in the nose tank as I was speaking, and read the words, JET FUEL, written boldly on the side of the tank.