By the time central South Carolina filled the Aerospatiale Tobago's windscreen, we'd already put in half a day's work. With a headwind, some turbulence, and no autopilot, keeping the little airplane on course really was work.
With about 3.5 hours behind us and another four hours or so to go, the trip to central Florida would definitely be an all-day affair. But first things first: rest-rooms, food, and fuel.
With VFR conditions forecast for the entire route, we had given little definitive thinking to fuel stops. Flight planning purists will chastise me for sure, but half the fun of such trips is randomly picking some small airport and landing for fuel and pilot food. Just don't push the fuel limit unless you know what you're getting into.
A rule of thumb: The freshness of the vending machine crackers and "cheese food" (whatever that is) is inversely proportional to the length of the runways. Shorter runways equate to fresher food. Maybe pilots who land at larger airports eat at the restaurants in town instead of at the airport?
By the time we passed Florence, South Carolina, we had begun to look ahead for a stop. I poked a finger at a little airport along our route and began thumbing through the dog-eared AOPA's Aviation USA. I found the airport in question. 100LL, open daylight hours — we're in business. Typical of many small airports, there was no response to my unicom query. We circled the field and saw the new terminal building, a fuel sign, and a couple of airplanes, but no activity.
After landing into the wind, we taxied to the ramp opposite a pair of quiet fuel trucks. Gnats buzzed around us as we stood on the freshly resurfaced ramp; a killdeer challenged our presence with her haunting cry. Hmmmm. A beautiful day, a nice little airport, and no one flying. Had a deadly virus swept the nation in the few hours since we had taken off?
Eying the weeds next to the runway as a backup, we headed for the handsome brick terminal in hopes that the restrooms would be unlocked. The door to the terminal was open. Inside, it was eerily quiet. Had we missed the Rapture?
Fortunately, the restrooms were also open.
Stumped, we hauled out a sectional and considered our options. We still had lots of fuel on board, but we didn't want to be meandering all over the state in hopes of finding an airport that had fuel and also happened to be open. We selected another airport, checked its listing in Aviation USA, and then used the pay phone in the terminal to call ahead. No answer. Finally, we placed a call to Georgetown County Airport along the Atlantic Coast. The man who answered the telephone seemed surprised when asked if they had fuel and were indeed open. Of course, they were open.
We chased the gnats out of the cockpit, cranked up the little Lycoming, and headed southeast. Enroute to Georgetown we circled two more small airports for signs of life — nothing.
After topping off at Georgetown (itself a quiet airport that day), it seemed the only appropriate thing to do on such a fine afternoon was to head down the beach at a thousand feet or so; off we went to enjoy the view and ponder the FBO situation. There had been no virus attack, just a lack of business at the first airport.
It's a tough climate these days for FBOs. Flight training is down, flight hours are down, business jets are more fuel-efficient than ever and can go farther without refueling. Fuel sales are flat, at best, and competitive pressures keep FBOs from increasing prices significantly.
While pilots generally feel avgas prices are too high, the prices have actually remained steady or even declined in real dollars since 1978, according to the FAA. The total cost of owning and operating an aircraft has increased about 4 to 4.3 percent annually since 1978, but the increases have been largely inflationary and at a rate comparable to the consumer price index. Not a bad deal if you already own an aircraft.
Trying to buy into the market can be difficult, however. In contrast to ownership and operating costs, the cost of purchasing a general aviation aircraft has risen dramatically, the FAA reports in its most recent industry forecast. The cost of a single-engine piston airplane had increased 126 percent from 1978 to 1986, the last year any significant number was produced.
Burgeoning environmental regulations further stymie the FBO business. FBOs with underground fuel storage tanks are looking at enormous costs either to bring the tanks up to modern standards or to put in new above-ground tanks. Even removing the old underground ones is an expensive task and possibly an environmental and regulatory nightmare.
According to one survey, the number of FBOs has decreased 60 percent in the last 15 years. A consulting firm, The FBO Resource Group, reported that as recently as 1980 there were about 10,000 FBOs in the United States. The group estimates only about 4,000 exist now, a figure that tracks well with the number of FBOs in the Aviation USA database, which lists about 4,200 facilities. Unless something changes, the number of FBOs is projected to drop to about 2,000 by the year 2000.
Unfortunately, the FBOs are often their own worst enemies. Many FBOs are run-down and dilapidated (how much does a coat of paint cost?). Too many managers have zero marketing savvy; the line and counter personnel may know how to pump and sell fuel, but they know little about customer relations. And the businesses seem to have little understanding of what it is pilots want from an FBO.
The pilots of most light general aviation airplanes want restrooms, fuel, a tiedown, and maybe a rental car so they can get on their way. They don't expect free ice and coffee, gold-plated fixtures, or a snooze room with large-screen television and recliners. Light airplanes don't need large tugs and an acre of parking ramp. So why do big FBOs like Signature Flight Support insist on charging light airplanes ridiculous "handling" fees to cover the cost of such amenities?
The cost of doing business at many of the larger airports where Signature and other large FBO chains operate is undoubtedly higher than at smaller fields. No one should expect to fly into Washington National Airport and pay only $1.65 for avgas. Airport-commission-imposed fuel flowage fees and high rental rates force FBOs at such locations to charge higher fuel prices. Many times the FBOs see little of the parking and landing fees they collect. Instead, they are passed on to the airport owner.
Still, is it fair for Signature to charge a piston single a $15 to $18 handling fee — on top of parking and landing fees — when there really is no handling involved? How much handling does your average piston single need? The pilot is probably willing to park it himself, if shown where to go. At best, a lightweight tug is needed to move the airplane from in front of the terminal building. Even if the pilot buys fuel equivalent to more than half the capacity of his airplane, he still doesn't necessarily get the handling fee waived. You can save 50 cents a gallon on weekends at Signature locations, which brings its usual cost down to something close to what most FBOs charge every day. But if you still get hit with the handling fee, there is no savings.
If the handling fee is meant to help the company offset the cost of providing the above-mentioned amenities, fine — charge it to the folks who use the amenities. I've been in hundreds of FBOs over the years and I have yet to walk into a snooze room, pop in a videotape, and prop up my feet. Pilots who fly corporate airplanes and charters often spend the day waiting around the airport for the boss or customer to return. They appreciate such facilities, and I'd use them too if I were in that business. Ask those pilots if they'd mind paying a few bucks for the privilege, and I'd wager a tank of fuel that most would not.
FBO owners like to think of general aviation pilots as a bunch of complaining tightwads who don't understand the dynamics of the business. In fact, pilots often have a sympathy and appreciation for FBOs; they just don't like to be charged for services not rendered.
Unless pilots and FBOs can get together on the issues, that giant sucking sound you hear will be the life going out of an entire industry. At airports across the country the throaty roar of piston engines and the whine of turbines will be replaced by the buzzing of gnats and cry of killdeers, just like on that quiet ramp in South Carolina.
