Our flying club had purchased a Grumman American Yankee. It was red, reasonably quick, and you could slide back the canopy in flight. When you slid the canopy back in flight you were really “cool,” but you couldn’t hear anything.
Everyone in the club wanted to be checked out in this shiny red airplane. Unfortunately, every flight instructor in the club had left town for the weekend, and it fell on me to do a lot of flying.
My first student was a new private pilot who arrived promptly at 8 a.m. We both completed what we thought was a very careful preflight of the airplane and were ready to launch at 9 a.m. A cloud deck had developed at the airport, reducing the ceiling and visibility. We had to request a special VFR departure to the practice area, about 15 miles west of the airport.
My student climbed to 3,500 feet and we began our air work—slow flight and stall recovery—above the cloud deck. The sun was literally boiling the water vapor off the clouds and it was very warm and steamy on top.
Because of the cloud deck, I did not ask him to demonstrate an emergency descent, which normally would be next on the checkout for the aircraft. I selected the VOR frequency for our airport and reached for the OBS knob to select a To heading for our return to land. But there was nothing there. No VOR head, nothing there but a black hole in the instrument panel.
Here I was on top of the cloud deck, with nothing to navigate with. I knew where south was (the sun was shining) and from that even I can figure out which way east is. But how far west was I? Was I north or south of the airport? A brand-new airplane, brand-new student, and I am totally messed up—and lost!
Rather than circle endlessly and really prove to the student that he was riding with an idiot, I rolled the airplane to an easterly heading. Then providence really started to shine. There was a small break in the cloud deck and I recognized a town with a road that runs east and west of the airport. I quickly turned to a 90-degree heading and tried to center myself right over the road. Later there was another small break in the clouds, and I recognized a very distinctive water tower. I remembered that if I flew 134 degrees from the water tower I would run right into our airport. I called the tower and requested a special VFR approach to the airport and we landed without incident. Because of the low visibility and cloud deck, I scheduled landings for another day.
In retrospect, this is the classic “but it was always there” mistake that a few of us make with airplanes. How in the world did I get the idea that everything is always there and working in an airplane?
The club mechanic had removed the VOR head from the airplane for repair. Ever since this incident I aurally identify the station during preflight and turn the OBS knob to swing the needle from stop to stop on the VOR instrument head. This tells me that the needle will traverse completely and is not sticking. Then I select From and center the needle. Now I am satisfied that everything is where it should be and working.
If I had been on solid instruments that day with my student the outcome could have been tragic. One “black hole” in my life was enough.
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