I was able to fill the seats any weekend I wanted to come home, charging $5 round trip to cover gas. In those pre-internet days, we used an analog ride-sharing system, posting a sign on the cafeteria bulletin board with tear-off telephone number tabs at the bottom. The phone rang in our dorm room. We felt really lucky to have a phone in our room, instead of a pay phone in the hall. (Yes, I should be in a museum.)
As a frugal college student, I did as much of the maintenance on the Chevelle as I could: changed the oil, air filter, and spark plugs; lubed the frame; rotated the tires. In those days if you got 10,000 miles out of a set of tires, it was something to talk about. Radial tires—they were rad, man.
Sometime after college I got stupid, or lazy, not sure which. The Chevelle was a rusting hulk in some scrap yard by then, and newer cars were way more complicated under the hood. The local service center got all the maintenance work—and a lot of my money.
Years later when I bought my first airplane, a 20-year-old 1977 Cessna 172N, the same mentality prevailed. I handed off the servicing of it to the local FBO, even though the systems in the Skyhawk were more akin to the ones in the Chevelle than the Honda Accord I was driving at the time. I did participate in the first annual inspection or two and learned a lot. As I wrote last month (“Waypoints: An Airplane in the Family”), the 172 soon gave way to an even older Beechcraft Bonanza. No way was I going to touch the maintenance on the even-more-complex airplane—or so I thought.
After a few years of annual inspections at a local FBO nearly draining my airplane-dedicated checking account, I turned to Adrian Eichhorn, an acquaintance who specializes in Bonanzas. As a maintenance technician with inspection authorization, he could conduct my annuals. As a Bonanza expert, he could teach me a lot; and he did, all the while encouraging me to branch out on my own for the basics in do-it-yourself maintenance.
One year at EAA AirVenture I wandered into the Aircraft Spruce exhibit and walked out with a box of safety wire, safety wire pliers, and an oil filter. I bought a used set of Beech maintenance manuals online and a case of oil. I dug a five-gallon drywall bucket out of the garage and bought some tubing at the hardware store just the right size to fit on the engine quick drain. Armed with a pile of rags and newspapers and a one-inch open-end wrench found in the bottom of my tool box, I headed for the hangar, ready to take on the ultimate in DIY maintenance: an oil change. Of course that requires warm oil, so first I was obligated to go for an enjoyable local flight.
With AOPA Editor at Large Dave Hirschman looking over my shoulder, I drained the warm oil from the Continental engine, catching a sample for analysis as it streamed into the bucket. Within minutes I had the old filter off and draining, and spun the new one on. Suddenly I was 19 again, dirty up to my elbows as I rattled around inside the engine compartment. It was as if I were under the Chevelle in my parents’ garage—minus the Bee Gees playing in the background.
Now for the tricky part: safety wire. Safety wiring is an art, with many experienced mechanics preferring to spin them by hand rather than with the dedicated pliers that simplify the twisting. I am neither a mechanic nor experienced, so I prefer the tool. After a few tries, Hirschman judged my twists and tie-off acceptable. He is not an A&P, but as the owner of an Experimental airplane he can do much of his own maintenance. Eichhorn later also blessed my work.
I was hooked. While I still only do the most basic of maintenance on the Bonanza, I enjoy the challenges and the feeling of accomplishment of completing even a task as small as an oil change. In fact, I look forward to oil changes.
The FAA allows owners to perform many maintenance tasks. AOPA has a comprehensive guide to owner-performed maintenance online (www.aopa.org/preventivemaintenance). Check it out. You may find you have more skill than you thought you did.
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