It started as a normal winter flight in a Cessna 172 but developed into an experience I'd rather have avoided. As an application engineer, I fly primarily for business; on this day I needed to be at a plant in New Hampton, Iowa, by 3:30 p.m.
It was about 20 degrees Fahrenheit but clear at my departure point, the Red Wing (Minnesota) Municipal Airport. Because the return trip would be my first night flight in nearly a year, I did a very thorough preflight and found that the taxi light was inoperative. Fixing the taxi light took about an hour, but I was soon ready to go.
I had a hard time starting the engine and assumed that it was because of my lack of recent experience in performing cold starts on the Skyhawk. After several tries, I got the engine started, taxied out to Runway 27, and did my runup and pretakeoff checks. Finding that everything was OK, I was on my way.
I conducted business quickly in New Hampton and was back at the airport by 5 p.m. for the return trip. As it was late December, it was already dark. Upon opening the airplane door, I smelled fuel. A quick preflight showed no indications of a fuel problem. My reaction was that the airplane was old and that it must have an odor in the interior from years of use. I tried to start the engine by using the cold-start technique. No luck. After a second attempt I assumed that I had flooded it, so I attempted the flooded-engine start technique. Again no luck.
I was out in the middle of Iowa at an airport that didn't even have a telephone. Now I was getting concerned about killing the battery and getting stranded. My customer was still at the airport, and I was beginning to wonder about his opinion of me as a pilot since I couldn't even get the engine started.
I used my cellular telephone to call the FBO at Red Wing. It was 5:15 p.m. on a Friday, and everyone was gone but Dave, an airline transport pilot. Dave talked me through getting the engine started. Unfortunately, when I throttled back to less than 1,400 rpm, the engine quit. After another call to Dave, I got it started again. This time I did not let the engine slow down to an idle, assuming that it needed to warm up.
I could perform only a short magneto check because the run-up area was covered with ice and the airplane was skidding. I flashed my lights at my customer and departed into the night. I left full power on as I climbed to 4,500 feet for my one-hour trip back to Red Wing.
Over Red Wing I pulled the throttle back to about 1,800 rpm to descend. The engine suddenly got rough. I assumed that I might have some carburetor ice, since the temperature and dew point were close. Carburetor heat did nothing to clear the rough engine; in fact, I think it made the problem worse. Because of the fear of icing, I left the carburetor heat on but increased power to smooth out the engine.
I managed to get the airplane down to 2,100 feet, but whenever I reduced rpm, the engine got rough and started to quit. If low power doesn't work, who am I to pass up a higher rpm that keeps the engine running?
At midfield on downwind, I pulled the power back to drop the speed enough to lower the flaps. Again the engine attempted to quit. I added more power and kept the rpm at about 1,500 to 1,600. On final I could see that I was very high. This was my first night landing in more than six months, and it was going to be an experience. I pegged the speed at 70 knots and pulled the throttle back to lose altitude. Whenever the engine was about to quit, I pushed the throttle in to get it running again. This cycle continued throughout the final approach.
When I was on short final, I pulled the throttle all the way to idle and began to drop rapidly. I tried to add power, but it was too late, and the prop stopped turning altogether. Because of the loss of all power and the rapid descent, all I could do was to pull up the nose and hope that the airplane wouldn't stall. The landing was surprisingly soft and very slow, and the only noise I heard was the crunch of the wheels on the runway ice.
The next day, the FBO checked out the Skyhawk and found that it indeed would not run at low rpm. Later the mechanic found that the idle mixture adjustment mechanism had come loose and fallen out of the carburetor. Remember that odor of fuel that I smelled in New Hampton? With the Cessna's gravity-fed fuel system, the hole in the carburetor was siphoning fuel out of the tanks, into the cowling, and eventually onto the ground.
The first lesson I learned was not to doubt my own ability. The reason that the airplane was hard to start at Red Wing and harder to start at New Hampton was the failing or failed carburetor, not my inability to do a cold start. Second, I should have believed what I observed. The fuel that I smelled at New Hampton was a real problem, and I should have trusted my observations and looked until I found the source of the problem, even if it meant staying overnight, getting some tools, and taking off the cowling to investigate. Finally, I must perform the complete checklist every time and not take shortcuts. If I had moved to a spot on the runway — or elsewhere on the airport — that was not icy, I could have done a complete runup and gone back to idle as my checklist requires. If I had done this, the engine would have failed on the ground and not on final.
Dan Johnson, AOPA 1165662, of Maiden Rock, Wisconsin, is a 250-hour private pilot who is working on his instrument rating.
"Never Again" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for pilots to learn from the experiences of others. Manuscripts should be typewritten, double-spaced, and sent to: Editor, AOPA Pilot, 421 Aviation Way, Frederick, Maryland 21701.
