Misadventures in Aircraft Ownership

After discussing some of the headaches involved in aircraft ownership on Facebook, I half-jokingly said I should resurrect this blog and title it "Misadventures in Aircraft Ownership."  Surprisingly, a few people indicated they'd like to see such a thing, so here we are.  I'm not overhauling the blog entirely and making it all about my ownership oopses, but I will tag any related posts "Misadventures in Aircraft Ownership" and will title any posts starting with "MIAO."

To kick things off, things to consider when you are first struck with the genius thought "Hey!  I should totally buy an airplane!"

1.) Define your mission.  The best description I heard of this came from a fellow named Bill Rusk who is working on building his second experimental Super Cub.  "Build for 90% of your flying" is his motto, and it holds true for those of us that decided we'd much rather fly something that someone else built.  Sure, a go-fast airplane would be pretty cool, as would be something that goes upside-down, but that is a very small part of my mission.  I am, at my core, a "puddlejumper" as a wise old man once told me.  You need to be very honest with yourself during this process.  If you over- or under-buy to meet your mission, you won't be happy.  Compromise is a necessity, but you need to be aware of what you're compromising on.  Otherwise, you'll be unhappy down the road and may end up blaming the whole concept of aircraft ownership for your discontent, when the root cause may just be that you bought the wrong airplane. 

2.) Research heavily.  Think about airplanes that would meet your mission (keeping in mind your mission may change in the future).  Once you've narrowed your options down, become involved in the community.  Go fly an RV, or take a BFR in a Citabria.  There's no sense falling in love with the idea of an airplane and then finding out it's terribly uncomfortable for you (or your significant other).  You might want to consider renting for several hours if it's possible, or becoming involved in a type group or type club to get experience with the airplane you're considering.

3.) Get your financing (if needed) in order.  Now that you've selected an airplane, you can research the approximate prices for what you're looking for.  This might be a good time for a reality check . . . but better now than later.  Things to consider include investigating multiple lenders and comparing their offerings.  Credit unions are a great option with some preferable interest rates, but they may require a higher down payment.  Do your research ahead of time, and you'll be able to plan for the appropriate down payment in advance.  

4.) Start with a soft inquiry.  The best deals in aviation tend to happen outside of Barnstormers and Trade-a-Plane and are complete before the airplane in question could even be listed.  It bears noting that you should not be in a hurry to choose an aircraft model or to choose a candidate for purchase.  I told a few friends in  November of 2013 I was going to start looking for an airplane in the next six months or so, with a goal of owning an airplane by the end of summer.  Disclaimer:  That was an entirely arbitrary timeline.  I figured I could talk myself out of buying an airplane, so I set a deadline of my 25th birthday back when I was still in college.  You may or may not want to give yourself a timeline, but, if you do, be sure it's conservative.  Things happen. 

Inquire with friends, on type forums, and at local airports.  If you don't hear of anything after a while (and "a while" may vary depending upon your goals), start looking on websites like Barnstormers, Trade-a-Plane, Controller, ASO, etc., as well as the classifieds on type forums.  I started looking at Barnstormers and Trade-a-Plane about the same time I started telling a few folks to keep their eyes open for any good deals.  This allowed me to have a basic understanding of asking prices in advance (note: asking price is not necessarily equal to selling price.  It's common sense but easy to forget once you start to get attached to an airplane). 

Another key thing to consider is that your previous involvement in a community and their awareness of your search for an airplane will help you find an appropriate person to do your prebuy.  

5.) Research some more.

6.) When you find a good candidate, you have a few options.  First, go see the airplane, decide if you're interested, and then schedule a prebuy.  This is what I did, but it requires multiple trips and you run the risk of falling in love with the airplane before you can get an objective opinion of it from a neutral third party.  I felt fairly confident I could figure out if the airplane was a total pile or likely ok, and I wanted to get the prebuy scheduled relatively quickly if it turned out ok.  This was because the Kid was a pretty good deal for what I got, but you have to temper hastiness with steady resolve. 

The second option is to schedule the prebuy and do the prebuy as soon as you see the airplane.  If you go this route, it means you've been in contact with the seller in advance.  Ideally, your mechanic should have gotten an electronic copy of the logbooks to review for any showstoppers prior to inspecting the airplane.  The seller may request some earnest money in exchange for you coming to poke at their airplane, since they will want to be able to tell other prospective buyers that you're making a trip to inspect the aircraft. 

A prebuy may also (and arguably should also) include a chance to fly the airplane.  This is subject to the seller's comfort level, insurance, and annual status.  You might very well go along for a ride and never touch the controls if the seller isn't comfortable with a stranger flying their airplane.  When I bought the Kid, I rode in the back seat and the seller did the takeoff and landing.  I made some turns and Dutch rolls, checked oil temperature and pressure, airspeed, and general rigging. 

Most people will say that a prebuy should basically entail an annual (the higher priced the airplane, the more intensive the inspection).  In fact, many people will advise you to have the prebuy done as an annual.  If everything looks good, you have a fresh annual and a solid understanding of the airplane's potential issues.  If it doesn't, you can start figuring out what it will cost you to get the airplane where you want it or need it to be, from both a pilot preference and airworthiness perspective.  It should go without saying that the prebuy should not be done by the seller's mechanic (in most cases).  They're probably perfectly capable mechanics, but they are likely not the ones that will be maintaining the airplane going forward.  Exceptions include well-regarded mechanics in the community that others besides the seller vouch for.  Otherwise, find someone you trust and get their professional opinion.  It might be expensive to do a thorough prebuy, but it's more expensive to do a cursory one and find all of the issues later.  Also, don't be afraid to wave off the airplane over a prebuy.  You are under no obligation to buy the airplane, unless you signed a contract in advance.  Be sure to consider what are "no-go" issues for you, including a total dollar value of discrepancies. 

7.) After you've evaluated the results of your prebuy, make an offer or run away.  You might already have an offer existing that's contingent on the results of the prebuy.  At this point, you should be well-versed in what you're looking for in an airplane, what you're willing to spend, and what the market looks like--or you should have someone there to guide you along. 

8.) Go get your airplane!

This feels like a very brief overview, but I'm sure you'll hear more about my misadventures in future posts.  Additionally, if this sounds intimidating or confusing, don't underestimate the value of knowledgeable folks in the field.  These can be experienced maintainers, pilots, builders, etc.  You can also engage a skilled aircraft sales specialist to find you an airplane and handle all of the paperwork.  You'll pay more for this, but aircraft sales representatives can find airplanes that aren't listed and likely have extensive experience with your aircraft type (or can find you someone who does).  Most smaller aircraft don't have a high enough margin to warrant a sales representative, but you can always seek one out.  More complex aircraft are much more likely to be represented by a sales department. 

That's all for now . . .

--Amy

It Takes a Village

I've decided that the notion that I own an airplane is a foolish belief for a few reasons:

1.) A bank still owns more of the Oklahoma Kid than I do.
2.) The airplane will hopefully outlive me, making me a temporary custodian.
3.) It's really impossible to own an airplane without a veritable village of people helping you out.

As for #1, well, that will eventually change.  Regarding #2, if I don't screw up too badly, that will come true in time as well.  #3 is one of those eternal truths that's just not going anywhere.

In fact, I wouldn't own the Oklahoma Kid without a laundry list of good (and bad?) influences prodding me along.  The Kid was found by a friend I had spoken with a few months earlier, asking him to keep an ear to the ground for any Cubs coming up for sale.  A significant amount of research was done in advance with several folks reminding me to ask certain questions, look for specific things in the logbooks, and to poke at certain areas during the prebuy inspection. 

The technical assistance was one matter.  Whether foolish or not, I felt pretty solid in evaluating the airplane (with the requisite surprises) on the technical front.  The mental side of purchasing an airplane is a WHOLE different matter.  You see, there is really no good time in life to buy an airplane.  That would be akin to saying that there is a good time to light a stack of cash on fire just for grins and giggles.  I suppose there are less bad times to do that, but, the fact of the matter is, you can talk yourself out of buying an airplane forever and ever until you're looking back on life wondering what the hell just happened to the last umpteen years. 

The mental gymnastics are far more complex than the technical issues.  Technical issues have a way out, a starting and stopping point.  The decision to buy an airplane can be far more taxing.  I consider myself a relatively responsible person in regards to my finances.  I started a retirement account in college and increase my contributions to my 401(k) when possible.  I overpay on my student loans and am set to pay another of my loans off in full in the next month or so.  The notion of adding a few hundred dollars a month to own an airplane was difficult to swallow.  That money could mean a nicer car, or bigger student loan payments, or a bigger retirement contribution, or some seriously nice pairs of shoes. 

This is where friends come in--the kind that can look at you and call "Bullshit" when you start offering up reasons that could be considered excuses.  In fact, I called a trusted friend and started off with small talk about the airplane, kind of beating around the bush.  Then I piped up and said, "I'm running out of reasons to talk myself out of buying this thing, but I still don't know . . . it's a lot of money."  His response?  "You put more planning into things than anyone I know.  You can talk yourself out of anything. There's never anything practical about buying an airplane, and you're just making up excuses now. Go buy the damn thing!"

So I bought an airplane. 

The follow-on to this, of course, is that the village is just as necessary AFTER you bring your new family member home.  There's a lot of "What was that?" and "Is that normal?" in the first weeks and months of owning a new airplane.  It's what I refer to as the "dating stage" of aircraft ownership, where you're both still getting to know each other.  Just like a new relationship, the euphoria of your airplane purchase soon fades into the reality of caring for a mechanical creature.  While you're find out all of your airplane's quirks and creaks, you call a fair amount of people to make sure it's normal.  When it's not, you need that village even more.

The Kid hasn't been awful in any regard, but she's tossed me a few curve balls--even in areas I knew we had to address.  It's part of the game.  Fundamentally, you can pay now or pay later.  I chose to pay later and buy an airplane that will require both a certain and uncertain amount of work in the coming years.  For me, this allowed me to afford an airplane I otherwise couldn't have.  There were no PA-11s in my price range, let alone ones that came with floats, skis, and a spare prop.  

Now, as I approach the first annual under my ownership, I called upon my village of friends and aviation family members to find a trusted person to take care of the Kid.  With almost a year of ownership, it's a neat time to reflect on all of the people that made it possible.  

You know who you are--and thank you.

--Amy

Sharing

I'm due for lots of updating, but allow me to skip through a year or so of posts to bring you this one.

I was pondering what aviation is "about" the other day.  I had plenty of time, since I was waiting for some weather to clear up on what ended up being a cancelled trip.  It struck me that it pretty much all comes down to sharing.  I don't mean the "sharing economy" that's received so much press as of late (Uber, Lyft, AirBnB, etc).  I mean actually sharing, as in receiving no benefit other than the joy of the act.  

Take Rich and Ginger Davidson, for example.  I've unabashedly stolen this photo from Ginger's profile so I hope she'll forgive me.  Rich flies for an international cargo carrier for a day job, and Ginger, as far as I can tell, is the master and commander of Lee Bottom Flying Field.  When she's not acting as a beekeeper, she's fixing equipment and maintaining the airport.  While many of us believe that owning a private airport would be a dream come true, you need only talk to these two to realize that it's a massive undertaking.  

For many years, Rich and Ginger hosted a fly-in at their airport.  The annual Wood, Fabric, and Tailwheels fly-in was a well-known, well-attended, and well-respected event that was welcome to everyone, but always boasted a healthy contingent of unique aircraft.  I had wanted to go for quite some time when, in 2012, a tornado struck the airport and caused substantial damage.  The process of claiming insurance was frustrating at best, and Rich and Ginger elected to cancel the fly-in for 2012 and 2013.  They held a few smaller events in-between, but the workload of managing the airport and recovering from the tornado damage was more than enough to keep them overworked, so the fly-in remained offline.  Then, in late June, they announced that they had signed up for the punishment of once again hosting an event.  This worked well for me, since I was unable to attend Sentimental Journey for the first time in five years, and I figured I needed someplace to go.  As such, I put the Lee Bottom fly-in on my calendar (blindly, I might add, since I didn't do any research in advance--just figured I should be there).  

Hosting an event like the Wood, Fabric, and Tailwheels fly-in (switched to Wood, Tailwheels, and Fabric fly-in for 2014, so it could be shortened to "WTF" for multiple reasons) is no small feat.  There are costs to be fronted before anyone is at your door ready to hand over money.  There are myriad tasks and details to consider and coordinate in addition to the full-time-job(s) of managing an operating airport.  And moreover, there are only two people and Rich is on the other side of the world half the time.  So, why do they do it?  Well, it's certainly not for the money.  The price of admission to WTF 2014 was, frankly, one of the best deals in aviation.  If you attended Oshkosh in the last five years and later admitted to having a good time, do not complain about the cost of attending Lee Bottom's event.  

Yet, complaints were received.  One such complainer was outraged that he should pay for someone to look at his airplane.  The audacity!  Whatever he flies, I'm sure it is so amazing that people routinely line up at his hangar to fork over some cash to lay eyes upon the mythical machine.  Having coordinated a smaller event (Cub Convoy in 2011) that received little to no complaints, yet was still a load of work, I could understand if Rich and Ginger threw up their hands and said "Forget it" and elected to become aviation hermits.  

You see, the event isn't about making money.  It's about sharing.  Rich and Ginger open their incredible airport up to play host to a wide variety of airplanes and their people.  In turn, the pilots share their airplanes with each other and the community, and the community shares its people.  

To cut a long story short, I was unable to make it to WTF 2014.  I sulked for a while as I sat pondering my options.  I could turn around and head straight home, or I could mosey over to Hartford, Wisconsin, and show off the Oklahoma Kid to my parents and longtime friends.  I chose Door 2.  Things weren't working out quite as I had wanted, but I was determined to do something with the time, so I turned towards home (and picked up the one tailwind of the entire trip).  

Even the bugs were fighting headwinds.

The neat thing about returning to your roots is that it's like putting a comfortable old sweatshirt on.  It feels like you never left, just that you were on a trip for a while.  You're soon joking around and catching up, while sharing stories and trading jabs.  In my case, I got to show off my recently-purchased airplane to the people responsible for my involvement in aviation.  There is something very, very cool about being able to come full circle and share your airplane with the people who first shared theirs.  

Sharing the Cub with my little brother!

Then, someone is offering you a hangar, a ride into town, help holding the airplane at the gas pumps in the wind.  You get to be the pilot you once helped when you were on the other side of the equation.  You get to see the up-and-coming youngsters at the airport with the same gleam in their eyes as you once had--and you realize that the money is secondary.  Sharing your passion with your family (biological and airport) is worth it.

She fits!  It wasn't without some finagling, but the Kid had a roof over her head while in Hartford.

It was hard to grouse forever with this view.

So go on--go out and share your passion.  Share your airplane with the community.  Share your time with organizations that could use the help.  And for goodness' sake, fly your airplane to an aviation event--don't drive.  

--Amy

Waiting for the next adventure!

Funny How Life Works Out

I've debated about telling this story but I think the time has come because I have realized how things have worked out to make my charmed life possible.

In February of 2009, I interviewed for a scholarship for my multiengine and/or instrument rating.  The policies of the organization allow a candidate to apply for two scholarships only.  When in the interview, I was asked which other scholarship I had applied for.  I replied that I had selected one for a seaplane rating.  The response was, "Why did you pick that?"

"Because it is something that looks like fun that I have always wanted to do, and it would be a new experience," was my response.

This sharp reply answered: "Why would you bother doing that?  You'll get the rating and no one will ever rent you a seaplane so it's worthless."

I didn't know it at the time, but it was a catalyzing moment for me.  Never before had I felt like everything I was doing in aviation was so wrong.  I have always been of the opinion that we each have our niches and desires to explore.  It just so happens that my niche does not include a Boeing 737 or Learjet.  It is partly because of this interview that I have come to terms with my status as a puddlejumper.  I've embraced the title and revel in all that it means.  It is who I am, and I have recognized over time that there is absolutely nothing wrong with it.

Fast forward 2.5 years later.  I was personally contacted by the renowned world leader in aircraft float manufacturing (which also has world-class services like maintenance, paint, interior, and avionics) to apply for a position as marketing manager.  After much hemming and hawing over where I would work after graduation, I accepted the position.  In January, I began interning to get a handle on things.  In May, I started full-time under the tutelage of the outgoing marketing manager.  In September, I assumed full responsibility for the company's marketing department, including two employees.

Let's think about that for a minute.

I was called by a market leader to apply for a job they wanted me for.  I secured full-time employment well before graduating and moved straight into a fabulous job.  At 23, I now manage other people and oversee the marketing department of a world-recognized company.

The most satisfying part?

My boss informed me that "it is part of your job to know how to fly floatplanes."

That's right.  It's part of my JOB to get my seaplane rating.

It turns out following the beat of your own drum has a funny way of working itself out.  I feel so incredibly lucky that some days it is hard to believe it's all real.  Of course, there are still plenty of challenges and frustrations, but then I sit back and think about all the people--respected professors and industry professionals--that told me I'd never get a job doing what I was interested in.  Now I get to smile and say "I DID IT!!!!!"  No matter where things go from here, I have proven to myself that I am perfectly ok just the way I am.  It's ok that I don't want to fly for an airline.  It's ok that I will always prefer little fabric-covered airplanes with the little wheel in the back.  It is what makes me who I am, and no one can take that beautiful fact away from me.

I owe immeasurable thanks to the many people that encouraged me along the way, gave advice, lent a sympathetic ear, and prodded me along.  I can't say enough about the amazing experience I have had in aviation and I am thrilled to be able to work in this industry and help others discover just how awesome it really is.

Thanks for all the support and friendship--I hope I have made all of those friends and mentors at least a little bit proud!

A very lucky girl,

--Amy

Community

Every day, I am reminded how incredibly fortunate I am to have the world's best network of friends.  Not surprisingly, many of them are involved in aviation (though certainly not all), which emphasizes one of aviation's most appealing aspects--that of the sense of community.

Not everyone can find a friend that knows someone to answer just about any question that comes up, yet this is common in aviation.  What's even more awesome is that I have many people I can call and prod for advice or just to chat.  I'm like the Travelocity gnome--I never roam alone ;)

So, airplane friends, thanks for being there.  Thanks for the advice and open ears and head-clearing services.  I know my friends will always be there, whatever far reaches of the earth we get flung to.  With such a widespread smattering of friends, it is fun to realize that I can be at home almost anywhere in the country.  I count myself very lucky to be able to be a part of this community and hope that we are all doing our share to introduce others to this unique atmosphere.

Just had to share and say thanks.

In Love With the Moment

It strikes me that we as humans fixate on moments, and for good reason.  Moments are more than an event; they are a feeling, an emotion.  As I reflect on the awesome experience I have had through my involvement in aviation, I can't say that I really had a moment where I knew instantly that I wanted to fly.  I do, however, remember snippets of flights like they were yesterday, and I am of the belief that we as a community must help other fall in love with moments.

A few favorites from this year involved the trek to and from Lock Haven, Pennsylvania.  On the way out, my friend Dave in his PA-11 and I in Little Airplane stopped in Knox, Indiana for the night.  We had stopped at Knox on the way back from Lock Haven in 2011 and had had a great stay with couches available and even a shower.  This year, we arrived about 30 minutes prior to sunset (which is a world record for Dave) and tied the airplanes down.  As we each checked in with family members, I sat down on the ramp under Little Airplane's tail and took in one of the more perfect evenings I've ever experienced.  The pavement was pleasantly warm, the remaining rays of sunlight warmed my face, and the view was spectacular.  I can't remember what I said or how long I was there, but this image has been burned into my brain forever.

As far as I can tell, this image should appear in the dictionary next to the word "perfection."

Later in the evening, we took the courtesy van to town and picked up Chinese food to go.  There is nothing quite like picnic tables at an airport with takeout food, a good friend for company, pleasant weather, and only the sound of crickets and the rotating beacon making its rounds.  Absolute heaven.

Another great moment from the Lock Haven trip was on the way back.  We ran out of daylight and picked an airport that can only be described as the best option available.  I am sure it had great facilities but there was no way to utilize them.  With no cab service in town and the nearest restaurant (and restroom) 3 miles away, we got creative and called Domino's (this did not solve the second problem, but that is another story).   Again, we plopped down on the ramp and had our dinner leaning up against tundra tires watching the world go to sleep.  We popped the tents and settled in for the night, departing before the FBO ever actually opened.

These moments are by no means glorious.  In fact, they're sort of crude and rudimentary.  They're not fancy.  But they are things that, to me, epitomize the barnstorming mindset of aviation.  You get up, point the nose in the direction you'd like to go, count to a given number of hours, and then poke around for a fuel stop.  It's delightfully unsophisticated and freeing.  

Essentially, these moments are about finding your place.  For me, it is somewhere in an eternal summer with an airplane that has the little wheel in the back at a grassroots airport as I wander about somewhere.  I suppose if I could accurate convey what I feel I'd be miles ahead but I can only really show you.  So here are a few pictures that make me smile.

This one is special because it shows Little Airplane as a Sun 'n' Fun 2011 Survivor.  

On the way home from SNF11.  Loved the light on the hills.

Flying the first love.  

Love the light.  Love the subject more.

She's got a few injuries left here, but she's surveying her kingdom.

Hanging out while Aaron Tippin flies the Super 18.  It was a tough job.

A sweet gentleman gave me a 4-leaf clover for good luck in the spot landing contest.  Apparently I had already won with Little Airplane by then but it was cute :)

View from a nap

I think it's full!

Feels like living!

First solo in a Pietenpol.  A tremendous privilege!

Basking.

Show her the pancake, let her get the scent, then proceed to nearest pancake breakfast.  Works every time.

On to the next great adventure.

Who, ME???

A girl can dream.

I feel like the luckiest person in the world every time I look out and see this.

IFR, Cub style.

My chariot awaits.

Which one, which one?  I can't choose!

Fueled up and off to find adventure.

The Reader's Digest Update

1. In August 2010, I began an internship with a company called Dakota Cub Aircraft (www.dakotacub.com).  I worked there part-time until the summer of 2011, when I interned full-time.  I continued working part-time through May 2012.
2. I survived Sun 'n' Fun 2011, but one of the two Super 18s we flew down there did not.  The one I flew down survived and flew back home.
3. 21Y did not make it to Lock Haven 2011, but I flew one of the Super 18s available via my internship and defended my honor and regained my spot landing title.
4. I graduated on May 5th.  Now accepting donations for student loan payments.
5. I began a new job at Wipaire on May 8th as a marketing project manager and am drinking from the proverbial fire hose in terms of learning!  May get a chance to earn my webbed feet sometime too.  

Told you it was the Reader's Digest version.

--Amy