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Dogfight

Illustration by Daniel Hertzberg
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Illustration by Daniel Hertzberg

Hangar bliss

Why a hangar is worth the cost

By Dave Hirschman

I’ve made hangar payments for most of my adult life—and the reason I’m willing to keep doing it is only partly for my airplane’s benefit.

Sure, the hangar protects my beloved Van’s RV–4 from the elements. Insurance is slightly less expensive because the airplane is indoors, and there’s less chance of it getting damaged by fuel trucks, prop and jet blast, or random Onewheelers (yeah, that’s a real story).

But the intangible that tips the scales in favor of a hangar is the blissfulness it provides. Just showing up at the hangar after a busy day lowers my blood pressure. I exhale and can feel myself unwind. Sometimes, I don’t realize I’m keyed up until stepping into the hangar somehow soothes me. There’s a tranquility to being there that, sometimes, not even being at home can match.

At the hangar, friends are usually nearby. There’s a pace and a purpose, even on days I don’t fly. There’s oil to change, tires to rotate, spark plugs to gap, batteries to charge, data to download, windshields to clean, and preparations to make for upcoming flights. Those may sound like mundane chores—and they are—but completing them provides psychic satisfaction and builds anticipation for flights to come. Getting one’s hands dirty, solving a mechanical problem (or better yet, avoiding one), and then cleaning up again restores a sense of equilibrium that too often seems out of kilter.

My hangar isn’t spacious, but there’s enough room for the tools and accessories that make flying more convenient—and that translates to flying more often. A gorgeous sunset, a still and cool morning, an impromptu formation gathering are all opportunities to scramble the airplane and take part in the action. On cold nights, having the airplane’s engine preheater plugged in makes for easy starts the next morning with no airframe ice or frost to scrape away.

It’s often said that a clean airplane is a safe airplane and being at the hangar (with a creeper) allows me to comfortably inspect every inch of it. When hardware gets loose or needs replacement, I’ve usually got it stored right there.

After flying, the hangar provides a place to gather, swap stories, and grab a cold drink, or a Fudgsicle, from the fridge. And late at night when the weather’s terrible and thunderstorms, high winds, or hail is pelting the roof at home, I needn’t fret about the strength of my tiedowns—or those of other airplanes on the flight line. I can roll over and go back to sleep with a clear conscience, and that means a lot.

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Living wild and free

Unburden yourself from hangar rent

By Ian J. Twombly

Hangars are great. They shelter the airplane from the weather and provide a nice place to hang out. But at what cost?

Let’s start with the actual cost. In many parts of the country, the price delta between a tiedown and a hangar is at least $300 a month. That’s roughly 550 gallons of fuel, enough for 60 hours of flying in a Cessna 172. It’s an annual, some safety upgrades, or in a few years, another airplane. Hangars are pricey, and a potential owner who thinks he needs one might forego buying based on the monthly budget hit.

Then there’s the opportunity cost. On a recent episode of AOPA’s Ask the A&Ps podcast, a caller was considering selling his airplane because he couldn’t find a hangar after moving to a new area. His airplane remained hundreds of miles away, sitting in solitude, untouched, unflown, because he was concerned about keeping the Mooney outside. Message boards and Facebook are littered with pilots saying they won’t buy an airplane until they find a hangar, or they are considering selling because one hasn’t come available. This all feels extreme. Why deny yourself one of life’s goals and pleasures because it’s not a perfect situation? That’s like not buying your dream house because it doesn’t have a garage or waiting to have a kid because you haven’t started saving for her college yet. The airplane will survive outside, just like you’ll learn to walk to the car with an umbrella.

Putting an airplane on a tiedown is asking for trouble, they say, and in a certain sense that’s true. But by saving so much on the cost of the hangar you’re being compensated for the risk. More money is being put away for potential detrimental effects. Plus, we’re assuming you’re insuring the airplane, so hail, stolen radios, and other mishaps aren’t a financial concern. An emotional concern, maybe.

In response to the tiedown naysayers, someone from Alaska will post and say that most airplanes are kept outside for years in Alaska, and they seem to do just fine, and they’re right. Seaplanes are generally left outside. Even the military leaves a lot of its equipment outside.

Is it ideal? No. Will you perhaps have to keep a closer eye on the paint to protect the fabric or metal? Of course. I think a lot of our aversion to tying down airplanes comes from seeing so many degenerates on the ramp. These airplanes say more about the owner than they do the environment. Besides, have you looked inside some of your neighbors’ hangars lately? Being behind a closed door only masks a neglectful owner’s crimes, not solves them. So, let’s all just chill out and enjoy our aircraft in any way we can.

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