When taking off in a general aviation airplane, the pilot typically pushes the throttle as far forward as it can go and takes advantage of all available horsepower (within allowable limits).
It used to be that way when flying jetliners, too, but operating economics have changed that. Instead of using maximum allowable power for takeoff, airline pilots are encouraged to take off using reduced thrust to save some fuel as well as wear and tear on turbine engines. In effect, we pretend that ambient air temperature is somewhat warmer than it really is and reduce the thrust used for takeoff to approximate the reduced performance that would be experienced on a hot day when using maximum thrust.
There are times when the use of reduced thrust is not allowed, such as when there is a possibility of wind shear at or near the airport. Another is when the runway is contaminated with rain, snow, or ice. A reduced-thrust takeoff increases takeoff roll, and contamination increases stopping distance (in case of an aborted takeoff). The combination of reduced thrust and a contaminated runway could require more concrete than is available.
My crew and I were taxiing at a snail's pace in a long procession of aircraft toward the departure end of Runway 30L at St. Louis. My first officer was making the calculations necessary to complete the takeoff performance chart. His attention alternated between the chart and the damp runway to our left, as he was uncertain whether or not to use reduced thrust for takeoff.
Looking in my direction, he asked, "I can't figure out whether we should use reduced or maximum thrust. What do you think?"
I answered with another question. "What would you say at the hearing?"
Randy (not his real name) looked at me quizzically. "What are you talking about? What hearing?"
We were now number 12 in the takeoff queue, so there was plenty of time to discuss the problem and arrive at the right decision.
"Let's assume," I began, "that we had an engine failure just before V1 and had to abort the takeoff. Assume also that we couldn't stop within the confines of the runway and wound up burying the nosewheel in the dirt. The National Transportion Safety Board would conduct a hearing to investigate the incident. Right?"
"Of course," Randy replied.
"One member of the inquisition would ask why reduced thrust was used when the runway was contaminated. We would reply that the runway was only damp, not really wet. He would then look us directly in the eye and ask, 'Do you mean to tell me that you thought that you could stop just as quickly as when the runway is absolutely dry?' If we were honest, we would have to concede that any dampness on the runway adversely affects braking and that we probably should not have used reduced thrust. The result could be a month or so on the beach — without pay — and a sizable contribution to the government coffers."
Randy returned to his work sheet, deleted the figures dependent on reduced thrust, and replaced them with the ones for use with maximum thrust.
This method of decision making can be applied to almost any operational decision about which a pilot might be uncertain. If he wants to make the right decision, all he has to do is ask himself how he would explain his actions to the FAA. Could he retrospectively justify them under an investigative microscope? If not, the decision probably is wrong.
Such a decision-making process applies equally well when flying general aviation aircraft.
Assume that a pilot is flying into progressively deteriorating weather. The decision to proceed is an ongoing process. If he envisions having to justify his decisions at the inquisition, the pilot might decide more quickly that conditions do not warrant continuing and pressing his luck.
Another example involves a pilot who is low on fuel. He really believes that he has sufficient avgas to reach his destination, but there is a gnawing doubt that makes him wonder whether he should land short of the intended landing site. Accident records are replete with the results of those who ignore these gut feelings and continue anyway. All such a pilot has to do is imagine the potential consequences and having to justify his actions at the hearing (or possibly to his Maker).
At a recent Flight Instructor Refresher Clinic that I attended, an AOPA Air Safety Foundation instructor discussed the five hazardous pilot attitudes most likely to result in poor decisions (the antidotes are shown in parentheses):
- Antiauthoritarianism, which is the "don't tell me" syndrome. (Follow the rules; they are usually right.)
- Impulsiveness, which is feeling the need to do something quickly. (Take your time; think before acting.)
- Invulnerability, which is believing that "it won't happen to me." (But it can happen to you.)
- Machismo, which is the "I can do it" syndrome. (Don't take chances unless you can afford the consequences.)
- Resignation, which is the "what's the use?" syndrome. (You are never helpless; what you do can make a difference.)
Anticipate the questions that might be asked at a hearing — so that you will not have to attend one.
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