I thoroughly enjoyed April's " Flights of Fancy," especially Editor in Chief Thomas Haines' pitch for the B-1B. As commander of the 34th Bomb Squadron, one of the U.S. Air Force's three operational B-1 squadrons, I can tell you he "shacked it."
Raging around in the "Bone" is a blast! But it is also deadly serious business, and it's conducted every day by some of the most magnificent young men and women this country has ever produced. I guess I'm living proof of the adage "I'd rather be lucky than good" — I also got to fly the F-15 for several years (a jet I noticed was conspicuously absent from anyone's list in the article). But I have a? confession: As fortunate as I've been to fly those two phenomenal airplanes, my real love is my 1953 Cessna 170B, and my dream airplane is the Waco UPF-7.
I just saw Julie K. Boatman's piece in AOPA Pilot about flights of fancy and the Hughes H-1 Racer. I think many of us who got to meet Jim Wright and see and touch the Racer feel exactly the same as she does. I was fortunate enough to see the Racer during its gestation at Cottage Grove and several times in flight, at both Cottage Grove and Reno, Nevada. It gave me chills every time. Everyone there knew that this was really something very special. The sound of that engine on takeoff reverberating off the surrounding hills was enough to put me in an altered state! And the man was as incredible as his machine.
I enjoyed reading "Flights of Fancy." One aircraft I will never get to fly is Gordon Israel's Redhead, probably the most beautiful of the racing airplanes of the 1930s. I was at the Omaha Air Races in 1934 when Israel's Redhead nosed over on landing, after winning the feature race that Sunday afternoon. Sadly, Redhead was never rebuilt. Israel, I believe, went on to work with Benny Howard.
Just want to congratulate the AOPA Pilot staff on what is, in my opinion, the single best issue that you have ever produced. I finally had to stop reading about 1 a.m. when my wife forced me to turn out the light. Especially liked the articles " Flights of Fancy," the long-overdue Jerrie Mock story (" Aviation's Forgotten Pioneer"), the analysis of the Aspen crash (" Safety Pilot Landmark Accidents: Aspen Arrival"), and the great visit to the Maule facility (" Build Me an Airplane: Maule").
The long-overdue tribute to Jerrie Mock brought back many memories starting with my attendance at her wedding to a fraternity brother, Russell Mock (" Aviation's Forgotten Pioneer," April Pilot). I lost touch with them until Jerrie's record flight when she was squeezed in with all the gas tanks in her Cessna. In my mind, it was such a superior flight to that of Amelia Earhart's, alone without a navigator, one fan instead of two, and, of course, the successful completion of the flight. She deserved much more recognition than she received. I was a volunteer at the Ohio History of Flight Museum at Port Columbus International Airport, where Jerrie's flight began and ended. The museum was founded by Foster Lane, the Ohio aviation pioneer who also backed Jerrie's flight. We tried without success to honor Jerrie on anniversary dates of her flight to celebrate her record. We tried to obtain her Cessna from the Smithsonian Institution, which was collecting dust at its Silver Hill facility. With Lane's passing, the museum lost its clout and the hold on its $1-per-year lease at Port Columbus. It is gone, replaced by hotel complexes.
I might offer the most simple and effective strategy [for preventing gear-up landings]that I have been taught (" Costly, But Not Deadly," April Pilot). Never, ever touch the flap lever until putting down the gear. This alleviates the possibility of confusing the drag produced by the flaps with that produced by landing gear. Every gear-up damaged aircraft that I remember had damaged flaps that were fully deployed, helping to confuse the pilot about aircraft configuration. This hint has been effective in Piper Arrows, Beechcraft Bonanzas and Barons, and now in a Mitsubishi MU-2.
My wife, Susan, and I have flown hundreds of hours in Piper Comanches without incident. Following a pleasant flight, the landing gear always seemed to cause the most stress. Remembering to lower it is the big thing; I won't get into lights not working, weird sounds, and expense. I guess that's why we fly an old Cessna 180 now. I know the acronym GUMP gets worn out, but everyone is familiar with it. Our version, GUMPS, is different but it's worked all these years:
G — Gear
U — Undercarriage
M — Main wheels
P — Put the gear down,
S — Stupid
In the otherwise exceptional article " Safety Pilot Landmark Accidents: Aspen Arrival" (April Pilot), Bruce Landsberg missed an opportunity when he gave such a short description of the instrument approach being used during the accident sequence. While he's correct that the descent gradient from ALLIX to the runway is approximately 700 feet per mile, a more important descent gradient is the one from the 9.5 DME step-down fix (a 10,800-foot altitude restriction) to the threshold, which is about 1,000 feet per mile. At the speed the Gulfstream III was traveling, this equated to a descent rate of about 2,000 fpm all the way from that fix to the runway. While it is true, as he states, that it is possible to make this a straight-in approach, it is a dangerous maneuver, especially in a jet, and must be executed perfectly. Since no pilot I know would want to touch down at 2,000 fpm, this maneuver would involve an even greater rate of descent and then a transition to a more adequate rate in the final seconds of the approach. I would never recommend this approach be flown as a straight-in to my students; instead I would recommend that they transition to a rectangular visual pattern after acquiring the runway in order to lose the excess altitude. This type of approach should raise the hair on the back of every pilot's neck and be given the proper respect.
Just finished reading " Proficient Pilot: A Herd of CATs" in the April issue. The reference to Jimmy Doolittle's blind approach and landing milestone of September 24, 1929, caught my attention. It is still amazing to think, even in our modern day and age, that we can rotate, gear up, go on the gauges, fly multihours anywhere in the world, still on the gauges, gear down and land, and not look outside until that last 100 feet or so for the centerline lights. As a 13-year Boeing 747 captain, I will sometimes make mention of this historic event to the younger flight-deck members as we cruise along on a daily basis staring numbly at, I mean monitoring, this technology in front of us. I have been reminded of my insensitive response to their complaints of having to have this control column getting in the way in front of them when a side-stick control would be much easier when it comes to using their laptops. Thank you for this historic reminder of an amazing aviation feat.
I think it is wise to have a plan when flying. This is the first step to formulating an "out" for every situation. However, I take exception to one of Marc K. Henegar's examples in " One Step Ahead" (April Pilot). He disparaged an airline crew for reporting breaking out on an approach at 300 feet when the minimums were 400 feet. The minimums on the ILS 11 at Metropolitan Oakland International Airport are 375 feet (369 feet agl). That runway is served by a MALSR. The regs allow you to continue an approach below the descent altitude (DA) when you have the approach lights in sight, except that you can't descend below 100 feet above the touchdown zone unless you see the runway environment (see FAR 91.175 [c]). The airline crew could have seen the approach lights and easily continued to 300 feet (75 feet below DA) before breaking out and seeing the runway environment. Additionally, airlines often have "tailored" approaches with varying minimums. They sometimes fly Category II or III approaches as well with much lower visibility minimums. In other words, their minimums might be different than yours.
Insurance rates for Cirrus aircraft are actually substantially cheaper than previously quoted (" Rate Quote," April Pilot). Our numbers were derived from the industry's three largest aviation insurance underwriters, but with assistance from broker Aviation Insurance Resources, AOPA Pilot has learned that a number of other reputable companies can provide more competitive quotes for Cirrus buyers. For example, one underwriter quoted a rate of $5,645 for our hypothetical Cirrus buyer (50-year-old private pilot with instrument rating, 500 hours total time, and 100 hours in retractable-gear airplanes, but no time in type), about half the average quote of the three largest underwriters. The tried-and-true advice to shop around continues to work when choosing aviation insurance — The Editors
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