At 1,000 feet the engine quits and I become a very unwilling gilder pilot. Luckily I had just taken off, so I attempt the harrowing turn back to the airport. Everything is working out fine, and I gently flare halfway down the 5,000-foot piece of pavement. A second later I come to an abrupt stop and the screen goes blank. I had landed with the gear up.
Thankfully my bonehead move was in a simulator, so no harm, no foul. Except that it was a big shock to the system, knowing I was capable of such a thing. Clearly the accident record says we all are—newbie, pro, and every type of pilot in between has landed without the legs down, but I always thought it would be someone else.
I had been fooling around on the simulator waiting for a lesson to start but what I got was a good lesson in the value of simulation. Since I’m not crazy enough to practice an engine failure at 500 feet above the ground in the airplane, the simulator becomes a necessary substitute—and a surprisingly helpful one at that.
It used to be assumed that simulators were only good for instrument scans, developing procedures, and getting used to instrument-specific tasks. But as visual fidelity has improved and controls have become more realistic, “the box” is more viable as a tool for all manner of training. We tend to focus a lot on the panel in a simulator, and how well its flight characteristics mimic the real airplane. That might be important for a jet type rating, but it’s hardly relevant when learning the sight picture for a landing, the control inputs of a slip, or the procedure for a stall.
An Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University study found every task in the Practical Test Standards benefits from simulator-first training with the exception of one. It may have been tying down the aircraft.
While helpful for honing instrument skills or perfecting a landing, I think they are most beneficial for emergencies. Emergency training in airplanes is both dangerous and ineffective. Think about forced-landing practice. The instructor announces the failure, can be seen pulling back the throttle, and then usually prompts an action: What are you going to do now? You then descend, usually quite low, with an idling engine that may or may not respond when it’s time to go around. I realize in primary training that this is all very overwhelming, but trust me when I say it becomes second nature.
Now imagine the same exercise in a simulator. The instructor says nothing. Instead, the engine just randomly starts windmilling, or the power slowly draws down. You must determine what’s happening and execute with no advance warning or knowledge of the problem. These are critical distractions that could cause you to lose control. Assuming you make it through that, you can fly the airplane to the ground. If there’s a problem, your instructor doesn’t have to intervene. You can ride a stall or spin through to the end, all in the comfort of your chair on the ground. And the only thing that will be wounded is your pride.
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