Pilotage

Mark R. Twombly is an aviation writer and educator living in southwestern Florida.

In aviation, as in life, it's better to be looking ahead rather than constantly checking six, fretting about ground we've already covered.

Isn't it preferable to see fuel quantity indicators as half full, with half of the journey still to come, rather than half empty and half over? In that spirit, 2005 will be a year to look forward, to try to check off some items on my aviation-skills wish list.

The first goal is modest, but would solve a nagging problem. I want to end the year having learned how to consistently and successfully hot start the Lycoming IO-540 engines on my partner's and my Piper Aztec. Here's the scenario: After completing a flight I usually taxi to the self-service fuel facility to top off the tanks before putting the Aztec back in the hangar. It takes 10 to 15 minutes to refuel — just enough time for the fuel in the distribution spider sitting above the engine to vaporize before I have to restart.

I've tried the procedure recommended in the aircraft handbook, and the procedure recommended in the engine manual (they differ), and neither is satisfactory on a consistent basis. Sometimes I spare the battery and starters tough overtime duty and just taxi from the refueling ramp back to the hangar on one engine, which is a skill in itself.

The final insult occurred when I cleared the runway after landing and spotted a couple of pilot friends at a nearby hangar. I taxied over, shut down, and got out to talk. A few minutes later, with both guys watching in amusement, I tried repeatedly to get the right engine started and running. Eventually I gave up and limped away using power, and brakes, on the left side only.

I'm cautiously optimistic that a solution is in hand. At AOPA Expo 2004 in Long Beach, California, a Lycoming technical rep passed on his technique, learned over many years of swearing at hot, obstinate six-cylinder aircraft engines. It goes something like this: throttle and mixture levers firewalled for five seconds — no priming with the electric fuel pump — then mixture to Idle Cutoff and throttle cracked open. Hit the Start toggle switch immediately. If it's hot outside, which it often is here in Southwest Florida, be prepared to flip the electric fuel pump on after starting.

So far the procedure has worked. This early success has given me hope that 2005 will indeed be a good year.

Item number two on the wish list is to achieve consistently good landings in both airplanes I fly regularly. If that sounds too much like wishing for world peace and winning the next $100 million lottery at the same time, well, you have to aim high.

Actually, I'm halfway to achieving my good-landings goal. For four years I suffered from chronically sub-par landing performance in our Piper Twin Comanche — embarrassing smack downs, three pointers that should have been two plus a P.A.T. (point after touchdown), and on really bad days leading with my nose (wheel). Last May I solved all of that in an instant the easy way by selling my share of the trim Twinkie and buying into a portly Aztruck.

Aesthetically challenged though it may be compared with that tart little Lock Haven Lolita I used to fly, at least the Aztec, with its fat airfoil and higher ground clearance, is more willing to forgive my pedestrian ability and bestow the gift of a smooth, main-wheels-first landing. Now if I can just come to terms with its pronounced flaps-down, pitch-up behavior, I'll enjoy a happy and forward-looking year with the Aztec.

That leaves airplane number two, a Cessna Citation II that I crew part time. It's an early 1980s model with a straight-leg main gear that quickly conditions passengers to judge every landing as yet another firm arrival, or perhaps a rare and welcome tire-squeaking transition from flying to driving. Later-model Citations are fitted with prophylactic trailing-link main gear. No challenge there.

When chief pilot Bill allows me to occupy the left seat, I try hard to give the passengers a pleasing arrival. In doing so I've learned three things about landing this straight-wing Citation. First is that it is possible to touch down, pop the spoilers, get on the brakes, toss out the reversers and pull a generous dose of noisy reverse thrust, and get slowed down and off the runway in about the same distance, sometimes less, as the Aztruck.

The second is that it is entirely possible to finesse it onto the runway so delicately, creamily smooth that the passengers break into spontaneous applause. I'm pleased to say that I have been at the receiving end of such applause — once.

The third thing I have learned about landing the Citation is that you can never achieve the first two things in the same landing. Either you can attempt to land short or you can attempt to land smooth, but you cannot attempt both. Short landings are stiff landings. Smooth landings are long landings.

Lately we've been honing our technique for getting the airplane down, slowed, and off the runway in a reasonably efficient distance. Problem is, those are not the most comfortable landings for passengers. Unless there is a compelling reason to do otherwise, I'd rather land long to land smooth. Besides, as Bill likes to say as he watches gobs of pavement disappear while I try to sweet-talk the airplane down, "We paid for the runway; might as well use all of it."

So, my third goal for the year: to hear that applause more often.