Dogfight

Know your purpose

When it’s OK to be selfish and impractical

By Dave Hirschman

They’re built to perform—and they offer few frills, and no compromises. What do the Bucker Jungmeister, Spitfire, Mustang, Me 262, Sabre Jet, Pitts S–1, Edge 540, Global Flyer, and BD–5J share? They’re all single-seat airplanes. Whether fighters, aerobatic competitors, long-distance travelers, or airshow entertainers, these airplanes know why they were put on this Earth. They have a purity of purpose that transforms these airplanes into objects of art.

Add a second seat, however, and the magic is lost. The Spitfire with a rear blister resembles a camel. The Yak–50 is a graceful ballerina, while the 52 is an ungainly abomination. And let’s not even mention the misbegotten Twin Mustang. The Pitts S–1T flies better than an S–2B on far less horsepower, and the F–5 is a beast compared to the T–38.

Single-seat airplanes beautifully express their designers’ vision for the future. Al Mooney’s Mite was a wood-winged, straight-tailed, retractable model of efficiency long before the company began building family travelers. And the RV–3, Richard Van Grunsven’s original clean-sheet design, set a standard for the versatile, mechanically simple, metal kit airplanes that followed.

Single-seat airplanes are particularly refreshing in our age of indecision and blurred responsibilities. When a single-seat airplane does something—right or wrong—there’s no mystery about who did it.

Despite their superior performance and aesthetics, single-seat airplanes tend to be much less expensive to buy and operate than their two-seat counterparts. A Pitts S–1C or S–1S is typically about half the cost of an S–2A or S–2B, and the same holds true when comparing RV–3s to RV–7s or RV–8s.

Like many general aviation pilots, much of the flying I do is solo. Having a single-seat airplane absolves me of the guilt I might otherwise feel about going flying with an empty seat. And although I’d like to believe I’m just as careful when flying alone, sometimes it’s a relief not to be responsible for a student or passenger.

My friend Eddie Ruhl used to own two airplanes: a single-seat aerobat that he loved and flew regularly, and a four-seat family ride that was practical for going places with his wife and kids. During a financial pinch he decided to sell one airplane and, not wanting to be selfish, got rid of his beloved single-seater. For the next two years, he hardly flew. Later his wife, Terry (also a pilot), cut right to the chase: “Honey, you sold the wrong airplane.”

Email [email protected]

Share the love

Flying is best enjoyed with others

By Ian J. Twombly

About 12 years ago I booked a ticket to Alaska to get a seaplane rating. The flying was great, but what I remember most is the people I got to experience it with.

Flight is a gift. It takes the power of physics and transposes it to poetry. To restrict that magic to only those lucky few who can afford the time, energy, and money to learn would be criminal. Single-seat airplanes don’t represent freedom; they represent an outdated, macho pilot culture of the solo cowboy flying alone in the Big Sky.

Single-seat airplanes speak only of our exclusive past. In the early days to experience flight you had to be exceedingly brave, exceedingly smart, exceedingly rich, or exceedingly stupid. Today you need to buy a ticket on Delta—or, better yet, head to the local airport and ask.

Single-seat airplanes are sexy. They generally look better, perform better, and can be had for less money. That’s all true. And irrelevant.

What would flying be if we couldn’t share it with others? I can go alone to the best restaurant in town, but it would be a wasted date without great company. The same goes for flying. First solo? OK, that was fun. But almost all the rest—and best—flying experiences involve people. I remember my best friend getting sick all over my shoes, my dad teaching me about instrument approaches, my uncle smacking me to get my eyes outside of the cockpit, and my first weekend getaway with my girlfriend. Now she and I love to use the airplane to get our entire family away for the weekend.

Sure, the equipment is cool. The P–51D is the most impressive airplane ever created. Yet, it’s not my favorite airplane. That is the Piper J–3 Cub. There is no better feeling than seeing the countryside from 500 feet through the open door of a Cub, especially when someone is enjoying it just as much from the front seat.

Dave conveniently forgets to mention one important thing. One of his favorite things to do in an airplane is fly formation. And the only way to enjoy formation is with one (or two or three) of your flying buddies. So his airplane preference may be single seat, but even he acknowledges that flying is best shared with a friend.

It’s hard to argue that single-seat airplanes are, in most cases, technically and aesthetically superior. But if the price of admission is leaving someone on the ground, stick me in a Spam can and I’ll be a happy pilot.

Email [email protected]