The airport I fly out of has seen a number of incidents and close calls over the last couple of years, but only one involved an aircraft in flight. In that case, the pilot made an off-airport landing after experiencing a loss of power on initial climb. The airplane was irreparably damaged, but the pilot escaped injury. Every other incident has occurred on the ground.
Several of these incidents were one-vehicle events, things like trundling off the taxiway into a ditch at night. Others were incidents-in-waiting. Just last week a friend was complaining about the parking habits of some neighboring pilots. He is concerned that someone will taxi into his airplane while trying to maneuver into an adjacent tiedown spot. It does happen.
We've all seen it, if not tried it - a pilot pulls up as close as possible to a parked airplane, then advances the throttle and pivots around in a tight semi-circle to place the airplane on the extended centerline of the open parking spot. If you're good you can execute the maneuver without blasting the other airplanes, shut down, climb out, grab the tow bar and push the airplane straight back into the parking spot. If you're a poor driver you complete the maneuver, shut down, climb out and inspect the damage to the wingtips of both airplanes.
The latest incident at my airport in which there was actual gnashing of parts involved two aircraft awaiting departure. The pilot of the first airplane, a Cessna, had completed her pretakeoff check and was waiting for takeoff clearance from the tower when she glanced around to see a Pitts Special taxing toward her. It doesn't take an NTSB investigator to conclude that the Pitts pilot saw the Cessna too late, because he jammed on the brakes, causing the muscular little taildragger to rear up on its main gear. The wing of the Pitts struck the aileron of the Cessna, the prop ground into the macadam, and both pilots' hearts did snaprolls inside their chests.
The Cessna sustained relatively minor damage and was soon restored to flying status. Last time I looked, the Pitts was still in the maintenance hangar, minus its nose. Because of the prop's contact with the pavement and the sudden stoppage of the engine, the engine had to be removed and disassembled for inspection and the curled prop replaced. The only injury to a person was loss of ego, and it wasn't the Cessna pilot's ego that suffered. Although minor even by automotive fender-bender standards, the incident received full coverage on the six o'clock news and in the next day's newspaper.
A Pitts flies as well upside down as it does right-side up, but it drives horribly. The pilot must constantly S-turn while taxing to preserve even a minimal view of the road ahead. A taildragger is even less directionally stable than a tricycle gear airplane, and when you combine that characteristic with lack of forward visibility because of the taildragger's stuck-up nose, you get a very difficult-to-drive contraption indeed. As a result, pilots transitioning into a taildragger are given specific training in taxing and ground handling and, with the occasional exception, they learn not to take the drive to and from the runway for granted.
Speed - too much of it - is an important airplane driving issue. In my opinion, it's difficult to judge when taxi speed equals the generally accepted standard, which is a brisk walking pace. My wife walks faster than me, so should I speed up to catch her pace or slow down to match mine? Honestly, I could taxi as fast as I can run and never be accused of speeding. My personal rule of thumb for taxi speed is, if it feels fast it's too fast. That works in most situations and allows for reasonable flexibility. For example, too fast on a crowded ramp may not be on a wide-open taxiway.
Concentration is the tougher problem. If all I have to do is concentrate on steering, taxiing is a cinch. Usually, however, I'm dividing my concentration among several tasks - scanning the panel, talking to the tower or a passenger, and visualizing the upcoming flight, all while trying to stay focused on taxiing. Slowing my taxi speed helps to keep things under control.
The last phase of driving holds the greatest potential for problems. During the pretakeoff check I'm busy performing the runup sequence and configuring the airplane for takeoff. With so many things going on inside the cockpit, it's easy to subconsciously relax the pressure I'm applying to the brake pedals. That allows the airplane to creep forward, especially when the power is up for the magneto check. If I don't interrupt my work with frequent glances up and outside the airplane, I am in danger of taxiing into an airplane or objects ahead of me. It happens, as the Pitts pilot can attest.
Whether trike or taildragger, all airplanes have designed-in limitations that make them poor road warriors. Because we can't avoid driving an airplane before and after flying it, we have to observe the same rules we try to drill into our kids when they take the wheel of the family car: Go slow and concentrate.
Related Articles
