Dreams of flying as an airline pilot often have to give way to reality. Over the years, between day jobs and with the understanding of a patient spouse, I had worked up to a commercial certificate with multiengine and instrument ratings. The next step would be ATP, but at age 52 it seems the closest I'll come to working for an "air carrier" is doing it myself, as an air taxi/air charter operator under Federal Aviation Regulations (FAR) Part 135.
Some might say that that's near the bottom of the commercial aviation world, but I'll get to wear aviator sunglasses and swagger around in the FBO pilots' lounge, right along with drivers of Lears, Gulfstreams, and Challengers.
Step one in setting up my own airline, which I had already named Kingsland Air, is attending an orientation session at the local flight standards district office in nearby Winston-Salem, North Carolina (the state where "First in Flight" is on the license plates). A video outlining the multistep process and a five-page flow chart of directions are daunting. Don Shreves, a friendly, avuncular assistant manager of operations, tells the small gathering that one out of two of us won't make it all the way to the end of the application process. His advice is to keep the air taxi operation simple at first. "You can always add on later," he says.
The paperwork
Mildly encouraged, I head home with a folder and a batch of paper to draft an official letter of "intention to apply for an air carrier certificate." That's easy enough.
Seeking single-pilot, single-airplane status, I inform that I'll be the only one to fly my six-seat Piper Lance; Kingsland Air Inc. is incorporated; maintenance will be done by a local FBO, Raleigh Flying Service, at Raleigh-Durham International Airport (RDU); and the whole operation will be run out of a desk drawer in my house. More or less.
The FSDO next wants a timetable for accomplishing the various steps. That's hard to say. Who knows how long it will take? I've never done this before.
The U.S. Department of Transportation has to give authorization with an official stamp that says that I'm competent to operate as an air carrier. Eight dollars and a form from my insurance company get me DOT imprimatur in surprisingly short order.
The innocent-sounding "initial statement of compliance" proves to be a mighty task. It means going through 93 pages and 443 sections of FARs and writing how you plan to comply with each paragraph. At times the FAR is so convoluted that I'm tempted to write, "Whatever it says, I'll do." The specter and disgrace of being the "one who doesn't make it," cited in the initial meeting, compels me to press on. A telephone call one morning from Fred Klein, the principal operations inspector assigned to me, revives my spirits.
The initial meeting
Klein suggests getting together the next week at Raleigh-Durham International. This is refreshing. I've never had an FAA inspector actually encourage me like this. He sounds positively friendly and helpful.
Klein points out a number of errors in my initial statement of compliance that should be cleaned up before formal submission. He explains the issue of "known icing on the ground," suggesting that I declare in writing that I won't even think about taking off under such conditions, to avoid having to write operations specifications about deicing — not to mention the added costs. Also, in the interest of keeping things simple, it's best to declare that I won't carry hazardous material. That avoids an elaborate training process and added insurance costs, though I still have to be able to identify the hazardous materials. Finally, Klein suggests a land-and-hold-short authorization that allows participating in simultaneous landings and takeoffs at certain airports.
We review special limitations for flying single-engine IFR while carrying passengers. You can take off IFR if VFR conditions are forecast for after 15 minutes of cruise flight; you can continue if you run into unforecast instrument conditions. Of course, this rule may become less stringent if the FAA revises the rules governing single-engine Part 135 IFR regulations for passenger-carrying operations. The final rule, which is still pending, will allow me to file and fly an IFR flight plan utilizing IFR services.
More is required. Get plastic briefing cards for the passengers, develop weight and balance forms for calculations before each flight, set up a personnel folder for the pilot and a tracking system for flight and duty times. VFR or IFR flight plans satisfy the requirement for tracking every for-hire flight.
The aircraft
The aircraft inspection entails flying the Lance to Smith Reynolds Airport in Winston-Salem, where Paul McCormick, principal airworthiness inspector, eyeballs it for his first time.
Piper Lance 9263K, somewhat of a warhorse, had been flying for a Part 135 operation up in the Boston area, so it was in pretty good shape. A list of discrepancies included a slight crack on the tailcone and the need for a corrosion prevention program. McCormick insists on a current equipment list, a complete accounting of all airworthiness directives and service bulletins since day one of the aircraft's life, and weighing of the airplane.
When informed that my mechanics believe that light singles don't need to be weighed, as do twins under FAR Part 135, McCormick is not happy.
"All right, if you don't weigh it, you'll need a written statement from your maintenance people to the effect that they guarantee that the calculated empty weight in the logbook is true and accurate. If they'll do that, then you won't have to weigh it," he says, clearly irritated. Since no one at RDU had scales calibrated and sensitive enough to weigh such a relatively light aircraft, it was off to the Piedmont Triad International Airport in Greensboro, where Piedmont Aviation had the appropriate scales.
The weighing
After draining the fuel, standing the wheels on what looked like industrial-size bathroom scales, and various adjustments and jiggling — a process taking about 4 hours and $355 — it was determined that the aircraft weighed 40 pounds more than previously and that the center of gravity went aft 6 inches. Unbelievable.
"To get that kind of shift, you'd have to have extra seats on the tail," is maintenance head Dennis Morgan's response when he learns of the new CG. Thanks to his interceding and negotiating, it is discovered that the wrong datum had been used for the new calculations.
Avionics
With McCormick satisfied, it's Principal Avionics Inspector Gene Williams' turn to do his thing. Again, it's time to be nervous. What will they find? What will they ask to have done? How much will it cost?
The initial squawk list proves to be short — a couple of unlabeled fuses (spares) and blank high-frequency radio fuses for those "occasional" single-engine flights across the Atlantic. Following a couple of questions about ELT and VOR checks, it seems that I'm in the clear. But wait. Williams asks casually what the plan is to conform to the FAR requiring that any autopilot coupling with a navaid must be confirmed by something other than switch position, which was the case with N9263K. I haven't the foggiest.
Following a bit of consultation with Don Hudson, assistant maintenance head at Raleigh Flying Service, it's decided to allow the autopilot to be permanently coupled to the VOR (with the appropriate placard) and cover all other switch positions. That costs $90.
The pilot
The paperwork is done, the airplane is ready, the avionics are set, but what about the pilot? Nobody likes checkrides, and it's been a while since I've had one with the FAA — a special occasion if there ever is one. In other words, I'm all tensed up.
On the big day, going through my mind are charts, approach plates, airspace classifications, weight-and-balance problems, emergency procedures, and runway length calculations for clearing those 50-foot obstacles. The mighty Lance is even washed and waxed.
Klein's greeting is friendly and relaxed. He's in no hurry. I am. Let's get this over with. On the couch in the lobby, we review the 32 pages of operations specifications, covering everything from navigation to maintenance to IFR minimums. This is my bible, the parameters under which Kingsland Air will operate.
Next come questions about the airplane: speeds, weight and balance, emergency procedures. Miraculously working on all cylinders, my mind is able to rattle off the answers and elaborate on some.
The checkride
A DME arc approach to Asheboro Municipal Airport is among the procedures. I stay within the allotted 1 mile and begin the step-down descent into Asheboro. A missed approach and left-hand hold on the NDB were satisfactory.
Surely it's time to screw up, and surely it happened on the NDB approach. I neglected to note the dogleg after passing over City Lake NDB. How could I have missed it?
Dread waits for the red flag. But Klein says I'm not the first to mess up the dogleg and has me do it again. Relieved, I silently thank Klein and promise never to overlook a dogleg again.
Then it's a few steep turns and an ILS into Winston-Salem, where the controller has us heading right for the outer marker and doesn't authorize turning final until we remind him.
After shutdown, Klein declares, "pretty good, with one boo-boo," and I really want to do handsprings, but I keep emotions in check until every page of the ops specs is duly signed by Klein, McCormick, and me. With that done, Kingsland Air, Inc. is an official air carrier with an official FAA certificate number, authorized to carry men, women, children, dogs, cats, packages, boxes, and parakeets.
The total cost for getting geared up is $4,357, including a required 100-hour checkup, avionics work, the weighing, some prop work, and the paperwork involving all the ADs. It does not include $37 for removing a bird's nest from the air filter. The additional insurance premium for operating under Part 135 is $700 annually.
Getting the business
Now that Kingsland Air is an FAA-certificated air carrier — right there with American, Delta, and United — it occurs to me that I ought to start generating some business. This is not a hobby, and the intent is to become self-sustaining and profitable within a year, and eventually to add a twin, perhaps a Piper Seneca or Navajo.
My hope is that referrals from satisfied customers, direct mail, telephone calls, and personal visits to freight forwarders, real estate developers, and law firms will generate enough business to expand operations. Hauling bodies for funeral homes is an excellent market, several people have told me. I think that I'll stick with the live ones for the time being.
As a member of the Raleigh Chamber of Commerce, I network at the monthly social hours. Smiling and grinning at these events is hard work. Flying is the easy part.
The fares
Among my first paying passengers is a young man who needs to get to Beaufort, on the coast of North Carolina. He is a little nervous about flying in a single-engine aircraft, but I assure him that if it weren't safe, I wouldn't do it. When I arrive in the lounge, he is smoking a cigarette and pacing nervously. His anxiety is mitigated by the thought that his brother races motorcycles. The flight is smooth, but he doesn't enjoy it because I won't let him smoke in the airplane.
The manufacturer of plastic computer parts needing to go to Roanoke, Virginia, is familiar with light aircraft and asks a bunch of questions — to test my competency, I guess. What about the ground fog at RDU? I assure him that no one is taking off until minimums are satisfied. Quartering 30-knot headwinds and bumps negate the smooth and fast ride up. He also makes me wait longer than planned at Roanoke. Always bring a book, I remind myself.
The woman at New Bern, North Carolina, needs to catch a flight from RDU to Atlanta. She has spent the weekend sailing with her boyfriend out of Oriental, a community on Pamlico Sound. On the short flight, she prattles on about how "Gentlemen don't go windward on a starboard tack" — to avoid splashing — and other observations that go right past me. I remain the dullard chauffeur of the airplane.
Three computer engineers have to go to Baltimore early the next morning. The weather forecast for Baltimore-Washington International is good, but the immediate situation is ground fog and low ceilings. We delay our departure for an hour to give the weather time to clear — a tough call, given how businessmen have appointments to keep. Fortunately, one of them is a pilot and understands. A tailwind helps to get us there just an hour later than we would have. I get the distinct impression that one of them wishes he were flying in a Challenger or Gulfstream. When his business grows, he will. In the meantime, he can't beat the price of chartering a Lance. His colleagues love the geography lesson — Chesapeake Bay, the Potomac River — as we beat back to Raleigh in time for dinner.
