Puddlejumping

A magical view if I've ever seen one

I was recently pondering my place in general aviation.  I got to thinking about how I knew I wanted to work in GA but had absolutely no clue in what capacity.  One thing I did know was that I did NOT want to be an airline pilot.  Don't get me wrong, it can be a good job, but I knew it wasn't for me.  I considered air traffic controller, corporate pilot, even flight school owner (I ended up deciding that was probably a venture better left for retirement), but I kind of wallowed through school knowing I didn't fit the career-track airline pilot mold and not much else.

I did, however, know that I sure loved grassroots flying in airplanes with the little wheel in the back.  As such, my summers were filled with hanging out at the Hartford Municipal Airport as I worked on my sport pilot CFI and later instructed part-time around another part-time job.  I had a heck of a lot of fun, and it turns out that staying true to what you love sometimes works out.  I got an internship at Dakota Cub Aircraft, manufacturers of the world's finest Cub parts, and then I ended up with a job offer at Wipaire before I had even started my final semester of college.  To say I am fortunate would be an understatement, and I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunities I have had (they've been pretty awesome!).

It never gets old, even 3 minutes from home

Anyways, recent reflecting left me thinking about how today's reality differs from my perceptions of yesterday.  I feel pretty confident saying that if you had asked me where I'd be in aviation five years ago, I would have had no clue and would have admitted as such (five years ago, I had barely decided to double-major in marketing instead of economics).  There is no doubt, though, that I would not have guessed I'd be where I am today.  I would have expected that I'd be a full-fledged CFI with an instrument rating and commercial pilot's license to my credit, and maybe that I'd be flying for hire in some capacity.

Needless to say, that's not where I am.  I'm still a private pilot with a tailwheel endorsement and a sport pilot CFI certificate.  I momentarily felt ashamed when I realized that, thinking I would have made more progress.  Then I remembered a conversation I had with Len Buckle a few years back at Sentimental Journey.  If you don't know Len, you're missing out.  He decided he would stop flying his J3 from California to Pennsylvania at the round age of 80.

Len is a supporter of the Piper Aviation Museum and bought a brick that's on display in the entryway.  His brick proudly proclaims "Nothing but a Cub pilot."  I asked him about that once, and he explained he got in a disagreement with a friend once, who said "What would you know, you're nothing but a Cub pilot!"  Len paused a moment, then decided his friend was right.  He also decided that "nothing but a Cub pilot" was, in fact, a badge of honor.

With that in mind, I thought about Ed Rankin, who once proclaimed to me "You're a puddlejumper, just like me."  At the time, I was mildly offended.  Surely I could fly pointy-nosed fast things in the clouds if I wanted to!  Ed didn't disagree, just pointed out that I liked flying little airplanes that went slow.

I thought back to all of the incredible people and places I've encountered flying slow little airplanes.  I recently described buying a Cub as the price of admission to a unique and special community of people (although I suppose you could substitute a Luscombe, Taylorcraft, or even a Champ). The airplanes I have flown have opened up an incredible world of people and places.  I've watched the sun rise and set at 80 miles an hour and slowly paddled my way from South Dakota to Florida, Wisconsin to Pennsylvania, and Minnesota to Indiana and a few other places in between.  A different airplane would get me there faster and in more comfort. 

However, Cub flying isn't about "getting there."  It's about watching the world from a height where you can still smell manure in the pastures of the Midwest, the factories along rivers and lakes, and finding beauty in every place you go. 

The Mississippi River often loses out to its eastern neighbor, the St. Croix, in public perception of beauty.  The "muddy Mississippi," with its commercial barge traffic, apparently gets less love than its boat-riddled compatriot.  Watch a floatplane land on the Mississippi from above or watch a barge go by with the rocky bluffs in the background, though, and tell me there's not beauty in that. 

The thing is, a lot of people have perceptions about beauty.  They think the Midwest is boring, that the plains states are better forgotten, and that only regions with mountains or coasts are worthy of the term "beautiful."  I disagree.  There's a unique beauty in every place.  I've sat outside on a grass strip in South Dakota and listened to the corn rustle in a gentle breeze while the light softened as the sun retreated for the day.  I've flown down the lakefront of Chicago and looked up at offices in skyscrapers as the windows twinkled in the sunlight.  I've scooted across seemingly endless tree-covered ridges in Pennsylvania telling the Continental up front what a good little engine it was.  Much like opening your eyes to your immediate surroundings, puddlejumping is all about appreciating the here and now.  You might get weathered in someplace.  You don't necessarily know if there will be a courtesy car to go to town with, or if you will end up subsisting on the granola bars you packed.  You might find a spectacular FBO with 24-hour access, showers, and a car.  Then again, you might also find a deserted field with a horrifying pit toilet (or no bathroom access at all).  You need an intact sense of adventure to fly a slow, basic airplane across the country and enjoy it.

I'm a proud supporter of the chart industry.  It keeps me more engaged than following a line on a GPS or a tablet.  A chart might not always be my sole method of navigation, but it is a heck of a lot of fun.

A funny thing happens when you can do that, though.  If you can get your mind wrapped around embracing the uncertainty of weather and unfamiliar airports and have fun, all of a sudden you start having a lot more fun in general.  Things don't always go to plan flying an I Follow Roads airplane.  You learn to adapt.  Sometimes you do things you wish you hadn't.  Sometimes you sit on the ground and regret it.  Once you embrace the notion of not having a concrete schedule and route, you become more open to life in general.  I say that as someone who has historically been afraid of trying new things.  My family didn't do things like go skiing or play yard games or any variety of other things.  I have never liked not being good at things, but I realized a few years ago that there was only one way to get beyond that.  I learned to downhill ski (sort of), and I even learned to ride a motorcycle because I realized I could do it on my own.  Why not?

I guess all of this means I may never be anything but a Cub pilot, but that's a damn fine label if you ask me.  What a problem to have, to be having too much fun with a simple airplane to want to bother sticking your head into a panel and droning through the clouds!  Yes, life is good.  I'm more in love with my life every time I open the hangar door and see the Oklahoma Kid waiting for me.  Her theme song is Magic Carpet Ride, because she is the magic carpet that transports me to places most people can only imagine. 

There's a great big world out there, and I intend to explore it one puddlejump at a time.

--Amy

The Impossible Trip

There are a few aviation events that are written in stone on my calendar.  One of those such events is the Sentimental Journey to Cub Haven in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania.  Held every June, Sentimental Journey (or, more simply, "Lock Haven") is often referred to as the "feel-good" fly-in.  It's truly a magical experience.

My first Lock Haven trip was in 2009.  I was a fairly fresh private pilot with a mere year of experience under my belt.  I loaded 21Y up (a trusty 65 hp J3) and made the trek out there with one of my instructors, Steve, and his fellow pilot wife Sharon in a second Cub.  The 650-mile trip from Hartford, Wisconsin, was by far the longest trip I had ever taken, and I learned an awful lot.  Speaking of awful, the weather fit that description following our arrival into William T. Piper Memorial Airport.  While we had good flying weather for the trip, the luck soon changed and it rained every day until we left.  There were at least two days no airplane moved, though a few days were decent enough to allow the flying events.

Always an appropriate cross-country t-shirt

Back side of cross-country t-shirt

It became abundantly clear this was a special place and gathering, even with the miserable weather.  I was fortunate to attend with 21Y again in 2010, and then in Little Airplane, the Super 18 LT, in 2011 and 2012.  In 2013, I was airplane-less and hopped onto a winged beer can and airlined out.  A rather memorable arrival occurred.  Let's just say it involved three airplanes, one too-small Speedo, a bikini, two chicken masks, and the emotional scarring of everyone that was on the ramp in State College that day.

Hail Mary Speedball Lock Haven Express PA-11 crew 2015

I purchased the Oklahoma Kid in April of 2014 and hoped to fly her to Lock Haven in June.  However, her carb rebuild was still ongoing and I was understandably broke from buying an airplane, so I begrudgingly stayed home and did not even buy an airline ticket.

IT SUCKED.

I vowed I couldn't miss two years in a row and that I would be back in 2015.  Fast forward to May 2015.  The Kid was getting new struts and exhaust as part of her annual.  The exhaust wouldn't be done in time and it coincidentally was going to cost the same amount as I had allocated for making the trip to Lock Haven (not counting the struts I had to buy).  I checked airline flights left and right and came to a heartbreaking conclusion: I could not afford to go this year.

To say much grousing occurred would be a gross understatement.  I should probably apologize to everyone that had to deal with me, but I don't think I have that much time.  Thankfully, I had the pity of my coworkers who were quite tolerant of my whining.

This is my "Oh my god, WE'RE REALLY GOING!!!!" face

The Friday before I was supposed to leave was especially rough.  I got a message from a friend who had sold his PA-12 the day before, so I was at least in somewhat good company.  I'll admit it - I cried by myself in frustration.  I had deleted the first day of my vacation request earlier on Friday, but was too depressed to delete the rest (I had planned on having Monday through the following Monday off).

I've always said I have the most amazing friends ever - and it's true.  I checked my phone around 11:00 pm on Sunday night and saw an unread message from Speedy Dave.  "You ready to leave Monday or Tuesday?" it read.  I quickly responded "I could be!!"

I hadn't received a response by 9 am the next morning and was way too excited to wait, so I called him.  We decided we'd follow up Monday night after looking at the weather.  At 8 pm Monday night, we agreed to depart SGS at 1 pm the next day.

About to cross behind the cheddar curtain

It was the most incredible trip to Lock Haven I've ever made.  We experimentally determined that yes, you CAN fit two people and camping gear in a PA-11, but only if you leave behind things like pillows and sleeping pads.  It didn't matter what we had to sacrifice to make it - we were GOING!  Even the tent leak at 1 am was worth it (soggy sleeping bag is an experience I could live without repeating).

Drying round two.  First, the tent leaked at 1 am.  Then I put everything out on the airplane in the morning.  Of course, I forgot it was all there when it started pouring again.  

I don't think I have ever worn so large a smile for so long at a time.  People in aviation talk about the impossible turn - this was the impossible trip.  There was no way I should have made it.  Miss PA the PA-11 was in central Montana until Sunday afternoon and headed 1,000 miles in the opposite direction two days later.  It shouldn't have worked, but it did.  

To put it bluntly: Shit's about to get real!

Showing up when no one thought you were coming was pretty awesome too.

The sensation of coming "home" to Lock Haven could be a veritable book in and of itself.  The "I thought you weren't going to make it this year!" welcomes and hugs were exactly the recharge I needed with my ongoing (and expensive) annual.

Feels like coming home, even in a Ponca City Cub

There's no finer fly-in if feeling welcomed and missed is what you are after.  Despite missing a year, friendships picked up right where they left off, ribbing included (apparently Scott hates spades).  It's true what they say: you get into aviation for the aircraft and the flying, and you stay in it for the people.  I'm incredibly fortunate to have the most amazing people in aviation to call friends and acquaintances.

On arrival.  Felt like I was floating I was so elated.

I'd fly all the way to Lock Haven just for this ice cream, anyways.  Imagine my heartbreak when they ran out of this flavor Friday night.  The horror!

Perfection.

Good friends will call you when they're going somewhere and offer you a ride.  REALLY good friends will stay at Lock Haven during the fly outs so you can fly their airplane alone.  I have REALLY good friends.

Shades of 2009--we had weather like this the whole week on my first trip to LHV.  Thankfully this was just a passing phase!

The cut in the ridge on the left side of this picture always makes me smile.  During my first trip to Lock Haven I chased Leah Jones (Mae Coady) while she flew with Steve Krog.  I snapped a picture of Steve and Leah flying a yellow J3 through the gap that I sent to Leah.  She said the picture took her back 60 years and felt like just yesterday.  

Does this have to end or can I stay here forever?

Leah Jones (Mae Coady), whom I met at my first Sentimental Journey.  Leah was a ferry pilot for Piper and also worked in final assembly (including on the record J3 production day).  Seeing her is the highlight of the trip.

Flyouts . . . embarrassing landing and all.

Glenn's experimental Cub is very similar to the Oklahoma Kid.  So similar, in fact, that a custom painting of this scene, with my airplane substituted for Glenn's, later showed up on my doorstep.

All too soon, it was time to go.  The weather was not nearly as cooperative for our trip back, resulting in an extra night in Lock Haven (there are worse things).  Nevertheless, it was time to go.  The field was empty, the parking cones packed up, and the SJ staff trying to get some sleep to recover from the event.  It reminds me of that Semisonic song: "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." (Actually, the fine folks at Lock Haven would be more than happy to see people stay around or visit, but that's a separate point)

This is the "We actually managed to leave!" set of faces.  Weather was not so kind trying to leave LHV.

A rainbow in New Castle, PA, boded well for the rest of the trek home.  

Here in western Ohio, the Hail Mary Speedball Lock Haven Express crew split up for the return home.  Miss PA the Wonder Cub headed for Sioux Falls and I hopped in a Decathlon to attempt to head back to Minneapolis.  

Laying on the pavement with this view while waiting for the Decathlon to arrive was absolute perfection.  Warm pavement, comfortable temperatures, and a spectacular trip to reflect on.

Not a Cub.

Despite comments of me "getting saved from a Cub," Miss PA made it back home Monday evening.  The Decathlon made it home Monday morning, which was great except that the Decathlon's home isn't actually Minneapolis.  Let's all take a moment to reflect on the fact that sitting in a Cub would have been faster than sitting in a Decathlon.

Nevertheless, the proverbial lemonade was made out of the giant lemon that the weather was.  I got a quick tour of American Champion Aircraft in Rochester, WI, visited my mom, took a well-earned shower, had a glorious nap, and then got to spend a little extra time with someone special.  It was an early morning the next day to get to work on time, but thankfully even the Decathlon made it that time ;)

Early morning.  Should have just kept flying - I wasn't ready for my adventure to end.

The focus is now getting the Oklahoma Kid back in action (she might fly this afternoon!) so we can enjoy the last scrap of summer and some of fall.  There are many updates on that front, so stay tuned . . .

Until then, I hope you get to experience a trip as amazing as my impossible trip to Lock Haven.  It still doesn't feel real that I made it and I am here to tell you that every sacrifice was worth it.  EVERY. ONE.  The leaky tent, the complete lack of a pillow, sleeping on the ground (no sleeping pad - just a sleeping bag on a tent floor!), the soggy shoes, everything.  I would leave right now if I could go again.

--Amy

MIAO: When to Jump

Reader’s Digest version:  There is no good time to buy an airplane.  It is pretty much never a practical decision or purchase to make.

National Geographic version:

To expand upon the Reader’s Digest version above, let’s first consider why you are considering purchasing an airplane.  The obvious answer is travel, either for work or pleasure.  Airplanes can cut travel time drastically, allowing you to hopscotch from business meeting to business meeting and still be home for dinner, or can allow you to pack up your friends or family and slip off to a weekend destination without the traffic and detours.  Other justifications can include convenience (a small airplane can get me closer to my destination than commercial airline travel), adventure (you can only get where I’m going with an airplane), and miscellaneous things like a desire to survey your herd of cattle from the air. 

Let me be clear: There are plenty of situations where you can perform an analysis and find airplane ownership practical and fiscally responsible.  General aviation does a great deal of good in the world, and there are some things you can only do (or only do efficiently) with a general aviation aircraft.

All that said, the majority of people reading this blog are going to be in the same camp as I was.  I just plain like airplanes and like flying, and I wanted a Cub to call my own! 

If you’re from Europe or other areas where flying clubs are alive and well (and the aviation industry isn’t so alive and well), you might scoff at the idea of buying an airplane just because you want to own one.  That’s a completely reasonable argument.  Flying clubs allow you to enjoy flying a familiar airplane at a greatly reduced cost and with other club members to help afford upgrades you might not otherwise be able to consider.  With a flying club, you can either get flying for less, or get a lot more airplane for your money.  They’re a great thing to consider if you want to move beyond renting.  I am a big supporter of flying clubs and think they are an excellent solution for many pilots.

However, it’s tough to find flying clubs with unique airplanes where I am.  They do exist, but can be far-flung and limited by insurance allowances or club policies.

At the end of the day, 90% of you are considering buying an airplane because you want one.  Forget the practical justifications—you just want an airplane.  Don’t get defensive, don’t try to argue or justify your decision.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting an airplane, and you should never have to apologize for it.  If all you take away from this post is that, it’s worthwhile.  No matter what you end up buying, you’ll hear from people about how you must make a lot of money, comments about how “the other half lives,” and any manner of allusions to the fact that you must go swimming in a sea of Benjamin Franklins just for fun.  By all means, take these comments as an opportunity to tell the peanut gallery about the fact that many GA aircraft can be purchased for $20,000-$40,000, or the price of that new car your neighbor is leasing.  The reality is that aviation is always going to require a sacrifice of some sort.  For some people, it’s just a monetary contribution, but for many it’s time or effort (building or restoring their own airplane) or other sacrifices (small apartment, no vacations, old car, extra job, old electronics, or anything of the sort).  Don’t apologize for having the passion and dedication to pursue aviation or any thing else.

I will step back off of that soapbox now and return to our regularly scheduled programming.  What should you consider when you want an airplane?

If you’ve read previous Misadventures in Aircraft Ownership posts, you know that you should have your mission defined by this point and have narrowed your aircraft options down to a few to consider.  Now, will you be paying cash or do you plan on financing the purchase?  If you’re planning on the latter, start talking to a bank and/or credit union.  Aircraft lending is comparatively specialized, so you might want to get some recommendations from other owners.  Some banks won’t finance certain types of airplanes or may require an exhaustive prebuy process (for instance, you’re always going to find some surprises in 60-year-old airplanes, whether it’s damage history or missing logbook entries).  I worked with a bank (the Airloan division of Red River State Bank) and also investigated a local credit union (Wings Financial).  Your options will likely vary from mine, but the principle differences are the down payment required, interest rate, and aircraft documentation requirements. 

In my case, the credit union was far more conservative in terms of the amount they were willing to loan me.  This could have been remedied on my behalf by a larger down payment, which was my original plan.  However, the Oklahoma Kid popped up as a good deal (fairly local, too) in a time frame that didn’t allow me to bring enough money to the table for the credit union.  Instead, I worked with Danielle at Red River State Bank.  Danielle was and still is a pleasure to work with and was happy to work around my accelerated schedule.  I had already been in contact with the credit union and RRSB/Airloan as I wanted to investigate my options prior to actually looking at any particular airplanes.  Note: You should absolutely do this.  Don’t wait until you fall in love with the idea of a particular airplane.  On another note, I found RRSB/Airloan to be quite accommodating on the prebuy items.  Danielle flies a Cub and the whole family is involved in aviation, so it isn’t just an add-on to a regular bank to make a little more money. 

So now I knew what I wanted and knew what it was going to cost me in aircraft finance.  The next task was approximating things like hangar rent (I called three or four nearby airports) and insurance (don’t forget your bank will have some requirements on insurance coverage).  One thing I forgot to fully consider was state sales tax.  Not all states collect this, but I was lucky enough that Minnesota does….

Now you’re good and terrified, and you haven’t even considered things like maintenance.  However, you’re still excited and riding the high of dreams so you keep plugging along. 

You casually look at airplanes until one jumps out at you and then all of a sudden things start to get real.  Scary real.  You do things like review 337s and schedule a prebuy.  You confirm hangar availability and solidify insurance quotes.  You stay so busy that you don’t think about what’s happening. 

Then it hits you.  This is a HUGE commitment.  The initial financial outlay is intimidating, and you can expect you’ll get some surprises.  You start to think, “Do I really need an airplane?  Couldn’t I just rent and be happy?  Maybe now’s not the time.  I could wait a little while longer, and then I’d be more ready.”

NEWS FLASH: There is no good time to buy an airplane.  You will probably not ever be sitting at home and suddenly think, “Great Scott!  I need to spend a lot of money, pronto!”*

Now that we’ve got that out of the way….

Go buy the airplane.  Make it the right one, and get ready for the ride of your life.  The Oklahoma Kid has given me my proudest moments along with some of the most, um, exciting ones.  She’s given me great joy and brought face-splitting smiles.  She’s also caused me to lose more than a few hairs, to actually hit my head against a desk repeatedly, and has been the cause of several impressive strings of expletives and obscenities. 

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  It’s been the most exhilarating, terrifying, frustrating experience of my life, but my heart still flutters a bit when I open the hangar door and see my magic carpet waiting. 

*If this does happen to you, I’m available for adoption.

--Amy

MIAO: Confidence

One of the things they never tell you about buying an airplane is that mistakes aren't always easily fixed by just changing what you didn't like.  For instance: You don't like the brakes on the airplane.  They're worn (not worn enough to require the seller to replace) but worn enough that you don't like the performance.  You would think that the fix would be as simple as replacing the offending parts, right?

Wrong!

Well, it might be that simple--but it might not.  You see, there are many mechanics that can perform tasks on an airplane, just like there are many establishments that can make a cup of coffee.  However, those mechanics are just like all of those places you can buy coffee.  Some are green and inexperienced, some are gruff and grizzled, some just plain won't like you, etc.  It's not anything unique to aircraft mechanics--it's human nature.

Of course, the most important thing a mechanic can bring to the table is relevant experience.  All that said, you might find yourself occasionally paying for your mechanic to gain experience with a particular repair or installation (for instance, if you're the first preheat system customer he's had, it might take him an extra hour to acquaint himself with the system).  There's nothing wrong with that, provided you're not bankrolling his practical maintenance education.  Most mechanics are fair and honest and won't bill you for their mistakes or time overruns unless it's fair to do so.  Yes, there are times it's fair to bill you for more than the quoted or estimated time.  Airplanes are just like people--they have their own quirks, especially when they get older.  Sometimes it takes time to sort through the other guy's work or poor documentation.

The reward for finding a good mechanic is more of this and less cursing like a sailor.

After experience, what else is there?  Availability?  That's important, too, since you need someone that can help you in a reasonable amount of time when needed or who will answer the phone when you have a question.  This is not to say that you should be able to drop in whenever you please.  It's great if that's an option, but often, highly skilled and sought-after maintenance providers will have a backlog of business.  Plan ahead for what you can anticipate to make their lives easier.

What else?  Here's the one thing I never thought of: Attitude and personality.  You can have a perfectly capable mechanic who's available and willing to work on your airplane, and it might still be a mistake.  How?  Well, personalities and attitudes can clash.  It doesn't make anyone evil or incapable.  It just means that there is a larger consideration to make when selecting someone to trust your aircraft to.  You see, what they don't tell you is that picking the wrong mechanic can damage your confidence in your airplane.  If you are a type A detail-oriented owner and your mechanic has a more laissez-faire approach to maintenance, you might get irritated by the fingerprints left on the airplane or relaxed timeline for work to be done.  Correspondingly, if you don't mind accomplishing maintenance tasks progressively, but your mechanic refuses to let the airplane out of the hangar without everything done at once, you likely won't be happy.  If you're a cautious person (let's not forget the "dating stage" of aircraft ownership, where everything is still new), you might want someone who's willing to explain things to you or who will take an extra step here or there to make you comfortable.

 So, by now you probably have the grin of a Cheshire cat and are just itching to know how I learned this one . . . and it all started with a leaky carb.  It was discovered that the carb on the Oklahoma Kid had the incorrect throttle body, and the carb was leaking a bit.  No big deal--just remove it and have it rebuilt.  I found a mechanic who had rebuilt several carbs and who was very helpful in orchestrating a near-even trade for my A-65 throttle body with a local engine builder.  It saved me some money and avoided a Cub part gathering dust in the hangar (it's gathering dust in someone else's hangar ;)).  During the rebuild, the mechanic found that the vent relocation service bulletin had not been done on this carb.  The relocation moves the vent higher to prevent fuel from dripping out through the vent (this is unique to tailwheel airplanes with the Stromberg carb--it was designed for a tricycle gear airplane and apparently does not exhibit this tendency in airplanes that sit much flatter).  The mechanic complied with the service bulletin and the carb was reinstalled.  It looked great!

After installation, the airplane just didn't sound right.  I mentioned this to the mechanic and he ran the throttle back and forth to ensure it didn't hesitate.  It ran up just fine, so off I went.  The idle was a real bear to set.  It would run rough at certain rpms and hesitate and then come up in power.  Some of that is normal--there is an idle circuit that the carb uses for idle power and a separate circuit for higher power (don't ask me specifics on this, and definitely don't count on me for mechanical advice).  There is a transition zone that, I am told, starts at about 900 rpm and goes to about 1300 rpm.  During the transition the engine is running on both circuits.  (Note: Someone correct me if I have recalled anything incorrectly)

The power would come up smoothly to a certain rpm, hesitate, and then come up again and act normally.  I wasn't particularly thrilled, but wrote it off as the woes of cracking open a carb, which is known to run on black magic and fairy dust.  I began to feel like I was crazy for thinking this wasn't normal, and the mechanic was getting frustrated trying to continually set the idle so the airplane didn't hesitate.  I once told him that the Kid sounded like a tractor, and his response was "well, it basically is a tractor engine, so that's normal."  So, I went on with the carb as-is. 

Then, I was preparing for a cross-country trip to Lee Bottom in Indiana.  Since the airplane had been down for a few months--and there's another story there--I decided to take it on a shakedown trip to visit the fine folks over at Dakota Cub Aircraft in Brandon, South Dakota.  The trip went just fine, with a stop midway for fuel.  I was a little surprised to calculate that the airplane had burned over 6 gallons per hour, but figured I might have not recalled the exact flight time.  I vowed to pay more attention at the next fuel stop.

More of this.  Less sitting inside.  You won't find a happier-looking Cub on the planet!

I arrived at DCA without a problem.  The next day, a friend wanted to fly the Kid so I gave him my credit card and said he had to put gas in it when he was done.  When he gave me the receipt my eyes bulged a bit.  She had burned 6.7 gallons per hour, which was a heck of a lot more than the 5-5.5 gallons per hour that is typical for an 85 hp Continental.  I departed and got gas midway home again, and this time she burned an even 7 gph.  I was thoroughly puzzled.

I went to take off and the engine really stumbled as I brought the power up.  I aborted the takeoff and did another runup.  It sounded like it had since we put the carb on--not great, but nothing different.  I decided to make another takeoff attempt.  The runway was several thousand feet, so I had plenty of room to land if necessary.  I will say there was no feeling of aloneness quite like being the only soul at an unfamiliar airport 100-something miles from home.

The engine did not stumble as it previously had, and I was on my way, albeit cautiously.  I landed safely at home, but had officially decided something was amiss.

I spoke to the mechanic about the stumble and the high fuel burn.  He told me it could be the prop, which was something I had not considered or heard of.  However, I have flown (and bought gas for) a few Cubs with the same or similar engines and a variety of props and none came close to that fuel burn.  I started asking around.  Please note that I do not claim to be an expert, but what little experience I do have is pretty well concentrated into this aircraft type. 

I learned to fly in a Cub at a flight school that operates three J3s, and one of my instructors also operated the Cub Club type club.  I asked him about it and he immediately mentioned the service bulletin.  Apparently, there is a little gotcha in the vent relocation service bulletin.  As I recall from our discussion, you can't just drill a hole--you need to add a little divot around the hole.  I'm told that this keeps things flowing through the carb smoothly.  If it's not done, things get turbulent and the airplane will run extra rich.  Guess what?  It causes a rough idle and high fuel burn.  I mentioned this to another mechanic and said I would have to ask the carb rebuilder about it.

The next day, before I had the chance to talk to the mechanic who rebuilt the carb, the mechanic came over to chat.  He mentioned he had been thinking about my problem, and that he thought it was the vent relocation service bulletin.  It turns out the other mechanic had said something before I had the chance to.  They removed the carb together and sure enough, no divot (highly technical term, I know).  It was added and the carb was reinstalled.

The Oklahoma Kid was a whole new airplane.  Her idle was smooth, the transition zone didn't sound like an old Farmall, and she hasn't stumbled or hesitated on takeoff since.  It was absolutely night and day, and I had mixed emotions about it.

On the one hand, I realized I wasn't crazy.  The airplane hadn't been running right from the get-go.  On the other hand, there was weeks of a lingering distrust of my gut from being told that this was normal and not feeling as though my concerns were being taken seriously.

That was the tough part.  I was putting up with something I wasn't happy with, ceding to the mechanic's experience and confidence in himself.  Then it turned out I had good reason to not be happy with how the airplane ran.  Sure, I felt a little vindicated in that I was right, but the bigger issue was one of confidence.  What if the next issue resulted in an [unintentional] off-airport landing?  There's not a lot of places to land where I'm based.  I was thoroughly confused because I wanted someone to trust and confide in, but I felt like my concerns were brushed off.

Does this make the mechanic a bad guy?  No, I don't think so.  Everyone is human and aircraft maintenance professionals carry a huge responsibility every day.  He fixed the mistake, and I can't forget that he helped me find an affordable way to get the parts for my carb.  However, I've learned that our personalities just don't mesh.  This mechanic would often talk to another mechanic about the carb rebuild and I'd get the information secondhand.  No one meant ill by it, but it was upsetting to receive updates on my airplane from someone else who got them first and relayed them to me.  If I'm paying the bills, I want to be the one hearing from the shop.  So, lesson learned--for me, the personality and approach to my concerns is something of great importance to me in an aircraft mechanic.  I'm willing to admit that that might make me a little higher-maintenance than some owners.  I've accepted that and I'm ok with it.

Note that none of the aforementioned owner or mechanic stereotypes are bad--they just have different approaches to keeping aircraft airworthy and safe.  It's up to you to find someone that fits with your personality.  Maintenance is inevitable.  If you don't trust or like your mechanic, you won't be happy.  Unhappy people don't fly their airplane, and may end up selling it.  Do your homework ahead of time and don't just pick the cheapest or closest mechanic available.

Obviously, I'm most like the final owner stereotype.  I feel better when I understand what's happening and why.  That means I want a mechanic who is willing to listen to my comments and issues, take them seriously (because they're serious to me, even if they are no big deal to him), and educate me on possible courses of action or explanations.  If my mechanic makes me feel stupid for being worried about something, it damages my confidence (especially if I later discover there was something wrong).  Not everyone is like me, but I found out in the first year of ownership that experience and availability aren't the only important factors in finding a mechanic.  Consider personality and attitude in your search for a maintenance provider.  Check with your fellow aircraft type owners for recommendations, and ask around.  Decide if you want to do things like help on an annual or just hand over a check, and then ensure that your mechanic and you have the same philosophy.  You wouldn't propose on the first date, right?  Don't wait to pick your mechanic until the first time you have an issue to fix.

And when you do find the right one?  Thank them and treat them well.  Send them a card or a gift basket or buy them lunch.  Remember that everyone is human and invest in a long-term relationship.  You can thank me later (I accept a wide variety of frozen treats).




On that note, good luck and happy mechanic hunting!

--Amy

P.S. If you have a Stromberg carb, there is some great reading here!  http://thestrombergspecialist.com/index.php

. . . that sounded way less nerdy when I first typed it . . .

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