I was asked recently to name the most exciting airplane I've ever flown. Easy. My own, of course. That answer is almost 100 percent true. Nothing in my aviation life has yet matched the pleasure and satisfaction I get from owning an airplane. As low on the price and performance scale as my drinking-age 172 is, compared to many other airplanes (my initial and continuing investment would barely cover the purchase price and upkeep on a middle-manager-level luxury car), at least I can say that I'm flying with my own set of wings.
I haven't always owned an airplane, however. I flew some exciting airplanes before I became an owner, and I've flown some since, too. Any would have suited me as the most exciting, but I can't pick one that surpasses all others. Besides, I have trouble with that kind of ranking. I don't like to pick one and only one thing as the best I've ever experienced. That's a one-dimensional perspective. For example, I'd have serious trouble answering the question, "What has been the most exciting moment in your life?"
Life is change. We evolve — our knowledge, priorities, interests, and opinions. Our "most exciting experience" periodically is replaced by even more exciting things and events. In truth, we have lots of most-exciting experiences in our lives, including most-exciting airplanes we've ever flown.
My list includes some high-performance machinery, but not exclusively. In fact, it begins with two Piper Cubs: a modified 100-horsepower version owned for a time by my father, and a 65-hp original owned by my brother Gerry. I include both Cubs because I logged about the same time in each and because they flew the same: low and slow, with stick and heel brakes — and without flaps or starter or any electrics, for that matter. I don't know if anything is more exciting, in its own way, than guiding a Cub to a pillow-soft three-point landing and tracking straight and true on the rollout.
Equally exciting, but in an entirely different way, was a Pitts S-2B. With four times the horsepower, twice the approach speed, and maybe half the wheelbase and forward visibility of the Cub, the Pitts presented the biggest landing challenge of any airplane in my experience. Getting it on the ground and back to the ramp several times in succession with reasonable consistency was definitely a most-exciting aviation event in my life.
The Pitts rates two spots on my list. The second is for the aerobatics instruction I received in it. I'll always remember walking out to my car after the fifth of 10 lessons. I had just flown a sequence of five aerobatic maneuvers for the first time in my life, and I had done it with acceptable skill. By the end of the week I was flying the Sportsman's sequence of 10 maneuvers. I never felt better about my flying than after that training.
Some time later I got a chance to fly a Sukhoi Su-26, the then-new single-seat unlimited aerobatic monoplane from the same Russian factory that builds the best Russian military jet fighter, the Su-27. Carbon-fiber structure, radial engine, prop that turns the wrong way, taildragger, Russian instruments, semi-reclined seat, stressed to several thousand Gs (well, maybe not quite that many, but enough so that I couldn't fly well — or badly — enough to break it) ... this was the opportunity of a lifetime. I did a few mild aerobatics and returned to drop the airplane onto the runway from an altitude of several feet. It cared not a whit, and I taxied in feeling like a million rubles.
A different but equally exciting feeling washed over me when I taxiied in after my Cessna Citation type-rating checkride. The training leading up to the checkride was my first extended experience in the left seat of a turbine-powered airplane, much less a jet. The examiner had to sternly remind me to use the checklist as we screamed down on the emergency descent, but he complimented me on the circle-to-land instrument approach. I felt like a million bucks.
The brand-new Lear 60 that I flew for a pilot report climbed at 6,000 feet per minute off Wichita's Mid-Continent Airport. In three minutes we were at 18,000 feet. A short time later we were practicing steep turns above 40,000 feet. How could the Lear not make my most-exciting short list? It did.
As did the Mooney M20E that I flew solo across the country as a VFR pilot more than a decade ago. Three days, 18 hours of flying, looking down into the Grand Canyon at rim level (you could still do that back then), traversing Los Angeles' airspace, and finally landing at Torrance, California, where I very reluctantly turned over the keys to the owner.
The final most-exciting airplane earned its place on my list with another transcontinental journey. I bought my 172 in California and flew it home to Maryland.
Reviewing this list now, I see a couple of common denominators. Each involves an adventure, either a long journey or a new experience. Second, there is the element of control. I most enjoy a new flying experience when I understand the airplane and am in full control of it. If I am new to an airplane and because of its performance or complexity I am way behind it, I don't enjoy the experience as much, even though it may be exciting. I once flew backseat on a low-level bombing mission in an F-16. We lit the burner, shot the guns, and pulled 9 Gs. It was exciting, but I got to handle the tiny side stick for only a few seconds. Even then, I was just along for the ride. Call me selfish, but I would have needed more hands-on turning-and-burning time for the F-16 to make my most-exciting list.
Enough about past adventures. I know I could get excited about an F-15 sortie. But, please, captain ... I fly.
