Buying In

If you can't get excited about an airplane, don't purchase one

Buying an airplane is a lot like choosing a spouse — you should take your time, look the field over carefully, and verify age and performance data. Still, regardless of how that survey comes out, the scales will probably be tipped by an emotional factor that is difficult to quantify.

I once developed a powerful lust to own a Breezy, a homebuilt inspired by Glenn Curtiss's Junebug, because I saw a picture of one in flight on an aviation calendar. I had never laid eyes on one before, but that photograph mesmerized me. I studied it once or twice a day for months. I could see myself strapped to the captain's seat, the wind tugging at my clothes, the grass and trees slowly passing a few hundred feet below, the engine humming behind me, the sun on my arms and face....

I started reading Trade-A-Plane and making calls.

I finally found one the seller swore was immaculate, ready to fly. He'd had three calls on it already, he said. Even though the thing was in Newark, Ohio, and I was in Boulder, Colorado, I sent the guy a check.

When I saw this pile of junk a month later, I almost slugged the jerk. The check had cleared — the dang thing was all mine. I loaded it into a rental truck and headed west. I was so depressed that I almost took it to the nearest landfill. I didn't, of course. Despite the rotten fabric and corroded tubing, I could still see myself aloft in a tranquil summer sky with the engine humming merrily.

It's a personal problem, I guess, something psychotherapy might help me with, but....

We trucked it across Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas the long way, and the flat half of Colorado. She flew 13 months and $40,000 later, after an engine overhaul, a new prop, new fabric, new instruments, new almost everything.

Even now, four years later, when I think of all that money, tears come to my eyes. Let me just sit a moment on something that doesn't move.

Ah, me...the world's most expensive Breezy.

The truth is, she flies great. Now. I just try not to think about the money on takeoff and landing, when I need good vision.

If airplanes don't turn you on, if you can't get emotional about them, for heaven's sake, don't invest your hard-earned money in one. Or two. Or three. Buy an airline ticket whenever you need to go somewhere and spend the rest of your time with your feet on the ground. Take up golf, or fishing, maybe playing the oboe.

Several years ago, I was buying gas for a thirsty piston twin in Evansville, Indiana, when the desk girl looked at the dollar total and muttered, "That's a lot of money."

"Flying's cheaper than women," I declared.

She gave me the eye. "Well, maybe," she admitted, "but not by very much."

She was telling the truth. Flying is expensive. Be absolutely certain that you can keep a winged mistress before you write that first big check; nothing will squeeze the fun out of aviation faster than bills you can't pay with a clear conscience.

For whatever it is worth, I have noticed that some people think that aviation is about keeping up with the Joneses. Ooh, boy. They are doomed. Rumor has it that the late Sam Walton of Wal-Mart fame owned a fleet of airplanes to sport about in when the mood was on him. Like Caesar touring Gaul, Warren Buffet, the richest man in America, zips across the nation in the back of his bizjet, sipping Cherry Coke. Me, I go a lot lower and a lot slower, with my hand on the stick, and I probably have more fun. Certainly I have as much.

An airplane has to look good before I'm interested. I'm not talking about paint or interior decor, but about how the bird looks when you walk up to it. Can you envision it in the sky? Can you see yourself flying it?

As you walk around an airplane, inspecting it, ask yourself: Is this an airplane that you will want to fly this afternoon? This weekend? Next summer? In five years?

Where will you go in it? Business trips or pleasure flying?

Is this an airplane for adventuring, for flying the sublime places of the West, the vast deserts and yellow-rock mountains? Is it for cruising the islands of Puget Sound or the Great Lakes — for exploring dark, fresh-water forest ponds that you will share with loons? Is it for flying over turquoise-blue seas to reach white-sand islands baking in the tropic sun? Or will it spend most of its flying life carrying you and your main squeeze to your favorite airport on Sunday mornings for hundred-dollar eggs? All of these questions...and only you can supply the answers.

Amazingly, there is an airplane for everyone.

If going fast from here to there is your thing, there are machines that can do that well. They will carry the latest, greatest gadgets — some of these birds have more gizmos than a space shuttle. People routinely fly them in terrible weather and get where they are going quickly and safely.

If you want the thrill of aerobatic competition, there are airplanes for every level of skill. And every thickness of wallet. More faithful than any horse, they will carry you as high as your skill will let you go.

If you dream of blue skies and gentle breezes and are in no great hurry to get somewhere, ahh, my friend, the planes range from very old to brand new, and these machines will fascinate you. This huge category contains everything from funky antiques to retired cropdusters ...and Breezys.

So decide what you will use your airplane for most of the time and envision that use when you are standing on the ramp, staring at a prospective purchase.

Finally, ask yourself, does this airplane look like fun?

That was the big question when my wife and I went looking for an airplane this past fall. She was getting her private pilot certificate, and we decided that we needed a flying machine with an enclosed cockpit and a heater.

I have long lusted after a Cessna 185, a taildragger with a 300-horsepower engine that will carry a nice load anywhere. One friend suggested a normally aspirated Cessna 337 Skymaster, the push-me-pull-me twin. Several folks suggested that we look at Bonanzas, and we found a beautiful F33 that I dreamed about for weeks.

My wife, Deborah, and I talked and talked about airplanes. What would we do with this airplane, how much should we spend, how complicated a machine should a newly minted private pilot tackle?

"We should get an airplane that is relatively cheap to fly," she said. "One that I can pull out of the hangar and fly on pretty days, yet one I can use to get an instrument rating next year. The perfect airplane for me would be one that I can land in a crosswind without scaring myself, one that I can develop some finesse with."

We found the right airplane for us, finally — a 1969 Cessna 182 Skylane with a Rajay turbocharger to help us hop over the Rocky Mountains. With fixed tricycle gear, it's easy to land and cheap to maintain. The 230-hp engine is only 160 hours out of overhaul and drinks just 12 gallons per hour. The Skylane with full tanks will carry me, Deb, our 10-year-old boy, and baggage.

Fun? Did someone mention fun? Deborah and I are going flying. If the weather is good to the east, we will fly to West Virginia to visit my folks and spend a day or two at the farm. If the weather is good to the west, we are going to Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon, Zion, maybe California.

Deb is a good pilot, a great friend; we are very much in love. We are going flying together.

Eat your heart out, Warren Buffet.

Buying Experience

Finding wings close to home

By Michael P. Collins

As a new pilot with fewer than 100 flying hours, Mickey Baker decided in 1994 to buy an airplane. The Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, engineer assessed his needs and, with his limited piloting experience in mind, began his search for a four-place, fixed-gear, 160- to 180-horsepower craft.

"I went to every airport around and just walked the ramp," he said. Baker took cursory looks at about 20 airplanes and more serious looks at five, considering a Cessna 172 and coming close to buying a Piper Cherokee 180 before purchasing a 1976 Grumman Cheetah. "I read a lot about buying airplanes before I went and did it," he said. "The Grummans seem to offer a lot of airplane for the money."

Baker made a few trips to look at out-of-town airplanes but didn't like what he saw. And he decided that he wasn't going to spend money for an airplane, sight unseen, halfway across the country. "I wanted to know the airplane and where it came from," he explained. "This was a local airplane. To me, that was important. I talked to all but one former owner, who had passed away."

After reaching a verbal agreement to buy the Cheetah, Baker wrote his own contract for the purchase, which included an annual. "[The former owner] paid for the annual and I paid for half of everything to get the airplane fixed," said Baker, who had the option to back out of the deal if he deemed the annual's cost excessive.

"I've put 300 hours on the airplane since September 1994, and I've had relatively few problems with it," added Baker, who has obtained his instrument rating in the Grumman. "It's fun."

For his next aircraft purchase, Baker said, he will insist on a more thorough prepurchase inspection. "Knowing what I know now, I'd be there when every inspection plate was opened." He'd also test the radios in all possible configurations. Baker had to refurbish the audio panel after discovering during his instrument training that it did not function when set one particular way. He also replaced two old Narco Com 120 radios when he discovered that one had been repaired but did not receive a yellow tag.

Baker said that he may trade up to a faster airplane in a few years. In the meantime, he plans to try his hand at aircraft construction — assembling the Van's Aircraft RV-6A kit that he just bought.

Buying Fever

Don't be oversold

By Alton K. Marsh

Purchase plans begin sensibly enough. Perhaps you want an airplane just to play with — a Cessna 150 or Piper Cherokee 140 would do — or maybe a tailwheel airplane like a Bellanca Citabria. Then you catch the fever. Perhaps that 150 needs to carry more and if it were 10 knots faster, you could use it on business trips. So a Cessna 172 is now the minimum. How practical! Sure, and what if it were 50 knots faster, like a Mooney? Then you'd have a serious timesaver. But what about the security of having a second engine? Can't be too safe, you know? Yeah, a twin; that's it.

Often the fever rages unabated, resulting in the purchase of a twin when a single would have sufficed. You discover that buying fever can attack savings accounts as well as humans, and finally you trade down to a single-engine aircraft. Those charts showing operating costs in the salesman's office two years ago appear to have stopped just shy of reality.

"I've seen that happen about 10 times in the last six or seven years," says Gary Kimball, owner of Discovery Aviation Center in Titusville, Florida. He cautions that it can work the other way; a corporaton may buy an aircraft too small to meet its needs.

Bill Drake of Sterling Air in Carson City, Nevada, offered another example. A first-time buyer with instrument and instructor ratings, not to mention thousands of hours of experience, bought a Beech Duke, but the insurance company insisted on 25 hours of dual. Sixteen hours into meeting the requirement, the pilot suddenly decided that he really did not need that much airplane and sold it.

Quite often, Drake said, it is the insurance company that supplies the needed dose of reality to a pilot's purchase experience. Want a turbo Cessna 210 but don't have an instrument rating? You'll find the insurance company reluctant to offer you a policy. One pilot who had hundreds of hours in a Piper Seneca bought a Piper Navajo, even though the insurance company refused to cover him. He was forced to hire a qualified pilot to fly it, Drake said.

The problem is seen nationwide. Ray Grimmett, director of operations for Rainbow Air at Long Beach Airport in California, often sees buyers who are looking for a Piper Arrow when what they need and can afford is a Piper Dakota or a Cessna 182. "They don't need a retractable. The other two have about the same performance, yet have lower operating costs," Grimmett said.

Want versus need — such a difficult balance. Here are some questions that may help to restore sanity. How many long trips will you really take? How many times will you need to fill every seat? If you fly only 50 hours a year now, what makes you think you will fly 200 as an owner?

AOPA has held the hand of more than a few potential owners as they answered those questions. One caller found a high-time Seneca II for nearly the same price as a good used single-engine aircraft. It seemed like a terrific deal, and buying fever took over. Especially appealing was the fact that the Seneca has an extra engine, giving the security he had come to appreciate in the military.

He called AOPA's Don Koranda, the vice president of training for the AOPA Air Safety Foundation, who posed some questions. Did the caller know that the Seneca is slower than some singles? How often would he fill six seats? Would he fly often enough to maintain his proficiency in a twin? Did the caller understand that the price was low because the engines were nearly run out? The man called back a few weeks later, thanked Koranda, and said that he had bought a Mooney.