The crash occurred after a decision to do a touch and go after a faulty touchdown. My Cessna 172 touched down crooked, pointing about 15 degrees from the centerline. As a result, the rollout was aimed toward the infield grass, about 500 feet away on this roll. I immediately chose to perform a touch and go - add full power, roll as far as possible, then rotate. This decision, though not bad, was complicated by a gremlin in the engine. I had neither braked nor lowered the nosewheel. With full throttle and a roll of about 500 feet, I rotated and expected the airplane to ascend smoothly. We lifted off but remained in ground effect. Sensing that the airplane did not have enough power for climbout, I held it level for nearly a quarter-mile, when another decision had to be made as the fence and railroad cars were approaching. It was now or never; I pulled back on the yoke to clear the obstacles. The sound of the stall warning buzzer told me that the climbout was not going to happen; the empennage caught the fence and the airplane slammed into the ground on its belly, flattening the landing gear and destroying the airplane. It landed just inches away from the railroad cars.
Two decisions in this sequence of events would have averted the outcome. An adequate application of the rudder would have straightened out the airplane enough to permit a normal rollout. I chose the go- around because I believed I had too much speed on touchdown, and I was not sure whether the airplane would stay under control with the necessary amount of rudder at this speed. Second, I could have dropped the aircraft down earlier in its ground-effect flight, or just run onto the infield grass on rollout. If the anticipated results don't develop - for instance, developing enough power to fly - one must then decide whether it's better to survive an incident where one looks bad or try to salvage a problematical situation that turns into a full-blown accident. The lessons: Know your aircraft's handling characteristics (rudder would have worked) and its limitations, and do not let ego or pride cloud judgment. Running onto the infield grass would have been preferable to a faulty touch and go that nearly ended in disaster.
Going back a bit further in the chain of events, what caused me to come in slightly askew and at a speed outside of my comfort zone? I simply came in too high over the threshold of a 4,300-foot runway and decided to bring it down rather than initiate a go-around. As I looked down the runway while dropping the nose, I realized that I was going to use up 25 percent of the runway before touchdown. That still left about 3,200 feet - fine for a Cessna 172 when the pilot is within his comfort zone, but without much margin for gremlins. I could have broken the chain of events with a decision to call off the landing when I was crossing the threshold at 25 feet above ground level, but I didn't. Why? I was third to land, with two following. I did not want to announce a go-around, admitting to a missed approach. I had done go-arounds after bad approaches before, when strips were empty, but I felt added pressure to complete the landing at a busy time and in the company of other pilots. As mentioned before, the lesson here is not to let ego enter into the decision-making process.
How did I get too high on my final approach? The aircraft ahead of me got way off the pattern by at least 1,000 feet high and one-quarter-mile to the right. For a moment, I wondered if I was behind an airplane that was preparing to land or someone who had taken off and was departing. ATC cleared up the situation by asking me if I could see the aircraft ahead in the pattern. I asked if the plane ahead, above, and to my right was the one and received confirmation. I acknowledged and said that I would extend my downwind. ATC agreed and got back to the airplane ahead of me, directing its pilot to make his turn to the base leg "Now!" ATC talked the errant craft onto final; meanwhile, I was extending my pattern to accommodate. This did not faze me or seem to create any problems at the time, but a better decision would have been to exit the pattern and re-enter the downwind. Flying a cleaner, tighter pattern would have taken some load off, as I would have been at familiar waypoints of my downwind, base, and final approach. Lesson: Give yourself an extra cushion by reducing any extra work-load in your landings. There was no need for me to stay in the pattern with someone behind me while watching someone ahead who had to be talked around the pattern.
I have learned many things from this accident. I took some flight instruction to prepare for my requalification checkride with the FAA. At the time, I had about 170 hours in the air, and I thought that I had learned to fly well for that level of experience. However, the lessons showed me where I had deviated in the 18 months since passing my private pilot checkride. The few hours of training highlighted areas in which I had become complacent. A pilot must never think that a private certificate and some experience is all that you need.
As a tennis teacher, I have taught promising students the correct techniques of the forehand, serve, and backhand, and sent them on their way. Six months later I would see them chopping, slashing, and pushing tennis balls over the net, having lost or abandoned the instruction without realizing it. It's why I have always told my beginning students to return in a few months for a refresher to get them back on track.
Learning to play tennis and learning to fly have that in common: Get back with your instructor periodically to make sure you are not practicing bad habits. If I had taken some recurrency training, it might have broken the chain of events leading to the crash.
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