Waypoints

In the days leading up to January 1, 2000, the world became evermore concerned about the Y2K bug. With almost morbid curiosity, we all waited in anticipation, wondering whether those billions spent on ferreting out the insidious computer bug would prevent disaster or whether the whole thing was a scam dreamed up by self-proclaimed Y2K consultants.

Late in 1999 as the media focused more and more on the problem, a number of my nonpilot friends asked me whether I thought aviation would be safe and did I have any concerns about my own airplane come January 1, 2000. No, I didn’t expect that air traffic control—at least in the United States—would experience any significant problems (I can proclaim this easily after the fact). And as for my airplane, I really hate to destroy the image that many nonpilots have of general aviation airplanes. They want to see them as super-sophisticated transportation devices, one step short of a spaceship. As we get ready to start the engine they want to hear: "Stand by while I engage the plasma thrusters; prepare to activate the warp drives." Instead, we yell, "Clear" out the window and spin magnetos that might be from a Model T Ford while we attempt to start a cranky old piston engine.

Despite the routineness of modern airline travel, most people still see airplanes as a bit mysterious. There’s an aura and curiosity about airplanes—and even pilots—that exists nearly a century after the first of each took to the skies. Even lousy airline service and airplane crashes have only slightly tarnished the image.

There’s no doubt as we close the first century of flight that aviation is not quite the curiosity that it once was. In the old days, entire towns turned out to see a barnstorming biplane drop into a hayfield. Less than 75 years ago, Charles Lindbergh engaged the entire planet with his daring transatlantic feat. It was just six decades ago that Amelia Earhart captured the world’s imagination. Her disappearance only preserved and heightened the mystique. The Concorde, the world’s first supersonic transport, entered revenue service amid much fanfare (and controversy) only about 25 years ago. It soldiers on today, flying each and every day without incident and without making headlines.

In the first half of the century, generations of men and women were inspired by those aviation pioneers. The rarity of aviation and the danger of early flight made even run-of-the-mill pilots a special breed—they had the right stuff. By the 1960s, though, the space race captured everyone’s imagination. Airline travel, particularly in the early part of the decade, was still a luxury. The advent of the jet airliner provided the means to transport the masses, and all of a sudden, by the 1970s, airline travel was just another way to get around. Airline deregulation in 1978 drove ticket prices even lower, meaning that anyone could afford to fly. The hub-and-spoke routing system that resulted from deregulation depersonalized the experience even more, and airline service soon became a commodity (can you say "People Express"?). Buy a ticket from anyone, because the view of Atlanta out the window looks pretty much the same no matter whose airplane you’re sitting in.

General aviation shares some of the blame for the tarnishing of aviation. Beginning in the 1960s, airframe manufacturers seemed satisfied with the designs available; innovation took a backseat to profits. The revolutionary Beech Bonanza was still relatively new in the early 1960s. The Cessna 172, 182, and 210 were very new and the Piper PA–28 Cherokees were brand-new in 1961. By the 1970s, all of the same models were still in the market and not much was new. Grumman struggled with its line of new singles, as did Gulfstream with the Commander products. Pilots pined for progress, but little changed.

Warmed-over airframes flew behind the same old engines. In the 1980s, the GA market went into the tank for a lot of reasons: overproduction and subsequent price slashing in the late 1970s; product liability insurance rates; the wide availability of good used airplanes; and a lack of innovation by the manufacturers (somewhat understandable given the market economics of the time—some of which they had brought on themselves, a vicious cycle if ever there was one).

Passage of the General Aviation Revitalization Act in 1994 spurred Cessna back into the market. Piper emerged from bankruptcy, the economy picked up, and all of a sudden GA was back in business. The flying public’s fascination with the products from Cirrus and Lancair shows that there’s a market for a new generation of airplanes. The real sales bonanza will occur when we can marry new airframes to new engine technology.

I know you’re going to find this both surprising and disheartening, but that new engine technology is not likely to be a warp drive. Instead, the next generation of airplane engines will most likely be just that—the next generation. We’re not talking a quantum leap, but instead a refinement of what we already have. Electronic ignition systems and other controls for our current engines show great promise, as do diesel engines under development by SMA, Continental, and Lycoming. Light turbine engines from Williams may well make very small jet airplanes a reality. The wonderful thing about the turbines and diesels is that they can burn jet fuel, which worldwide is more available than avgas.

I could have shared all of this with a nonpilot friend who, enamored of the high-tech image of airplanes, asked whether my airplane, a 1972 Beech Bonanza, might fall victim to the Y2K bug. But I gave him the short answer. "No," I replied, "it’s fully compliant," knowing that his car carries way more computing horsepower than my old Bo’.

Still, I couldn’t resist the urge to go flying on January 1, just to be certain. The big Continental spun to life, begrudgingly at first, as if it resented having to work on a holiday. But soon all six cylinders were working in harmony. I had just had a JP Instruments EDM-800 engine analyzer and fuel computer installed a few days earlier. It knows the date because it also records engine data for later downloading. I was fairly confident that it would handle the Y2K change without a problem; it did. I was a bit less certain about the late-1980s Northstar M-1 loran. It quickly figured out where it was and seemed not to notice the date. I engaged the plasma thrusters…I mean, advanced the throttle, and a friend and I soon lifted off for a very enjoyable and uneventful flight into the new year.

We headed back to the airport at dusk, just as the streetlights were coming on below. Apparently the Y2K bug hadn’t bitten the power companies. Not a ripple in the air disturbed our flight. In the waning sunlight of the year’s first day, the Bonanza flew effortlessly over the ridgelines and across town. Ahead, subdued lights outlined the runways. It is this magical view that mesmerizes us all and maintains that aura of mystery that lures the nonflying public to airplanes. Who else but a pilot could deliver such an experience?

The Art department

Next to perhaps launching the space shuttle, few missions in life involve as much teamwork as putting out a magazine. We seldom recognize the individuals who make up the team, but there is one individual in particular whose work you have seen every month for more than two decades, yet you may not know his name. Art Davis is the creative director of AOPA Pilot, and he is retiring this month.

Since 1979, Art has been the Art in the art department here. His skill as a graphic designer has taken Pilot from the pedestrian magazine it once was to the vibrant, industry-leading publication that you hold. No other one individual has made a greater impact on this magazine—now the world’s largest aviation publication—than Art. He ranks up there with the late Max Karant, the founder of Pilot, as one who has made this a truly great magazine. As a private pilot, Art understands general aviation like no other in the business.

Art leaves his department in the hands of Mike Kline, a gifted young man who has learned from the master for the past six years. Adrienne Rosone is his new and able assistant. Look for Mike and company to make their mark on the magazine soon. Understand that any changes will be built on the foundation established by Art.

We’ll miss you, Art. Go and revel in your fine woodworking projects; craft those lovely guitars and enjoy your rose garden. And know that each of us appreciates your hard work on this finest of aviation magazines.