I was one year old when Rinker Buck and his big brother made
a cross country flight in an airplane that is arguably the archetype for
general aviation. The Bucks were
teens, crossing the country at 50-80mph in a bright yellow, fabric and tube,
tail dragging, Piper Cub. There are many who argue that the Cessna 172 is the
best representative of general aviation, being as it is the most popular
airplane ever built. But I think
the Cub wins out, not because there are a lot of them, and not because they are
near the ‘average’ flight experience, but rather because they fit the
stereotype of an airplane owned by a private individual. The Cessna 172 is just too modern, too
metallic, and has the third wheel too far forward to be a convincing
representative.
I decided to get checked out in the Cub at John Wayne
Airport because it was the cheapest hourly rental on the field, or any other
local field for that matter. This
was primarily driven by the truly frugal fuel consumption of the 65hp
Continental engine. When you have
less than half to horsepower of the most anemic of the 172’s it is important to
leave things out. The Cub leaves
out two seats, it seats a small pair and they get to ride tandem style, one in
front of the other. All the fancy
electronics are stripped down to a single channel radio and a transponder. This last is not found on many Cubs,
but John Wayne is within the 25nm mode C veil of Los Angeles International
Airport, so no transponder means no takeoffs. What else is missing?
There are no metal skins on the wings or the fuselage, but best of all
the Cub saves a few pounds by shedding that pesky starter motor. Yep, this one is a wind up toy.
After the other two two-seater tail draggers I really
thought the Cub would feel familiar.
But, it is enough smaller and enough older that it has very different
sensibilities. There is no alternator, so power is supplied to the overhead
electronics by a small battery that periodically needs charging. The doors are so flimsy that they
certainly feel like an unnecessary afterthought. On this maiden flight the instructor said we would leave
them on so it would be easier to hear each other. I do love that there is a special spot near the tie down to
store the doors when you want a Wright brothers experience. The price for used Cubs is right up
there with the Citabria, in the $40-50K range. This is hard to justify on any
grounds other than you have always wanted to fly aviation history. The cub is, in many ways an inferior
airplane to the Citabria, so it would be nice to get a little price break.
After a preflight that included looking in nooks and
crannies for signs of corrosion on the tubular frame, I got to try out my first
hand propping. The first step is
to make sure the airplane is not going to take off without a pilot. Each year this step is missed by a few
pilots, so there is a surprisingly large database of empty plane flight
performance. The Cub will get five
or ten feet off the ground, pull slightly to the left and hit the hangers full
of more expensive planes at about 45mph if you somehow forget to tie it down
before starting. In contrast, a
fellow on the next island over discovered that a 182 will stay firmly on the
ground as it taxis briskly into your neighbors hanger. I have no interest in gather further
data along these lines so I carefully check that the tail is tied down and that
the tail line release mechanism is locked. Once the airplane is going I can release the tail tie down
by pulling a lever in the cockpit.
Next, I ensure the magnetos are off and pull the prop through three or
four revolutions. This sucks a
little fuel into the cylinders while dead mags prevent a sudden start that
might knock off fingers or even hands.
Now we are ready for the big show. The instructor is settled in the front seat. In the Cub, this is the passenger seat
and when empty the plane must be flown from the rear seat. This makes visibility in the Cub
distinctly worse than in the Champ offspring, the Citabria and Decathlon. But I digress. The magnetos are turned
on, the throttle is open 20% and the mixture is full rich as I stand with my
left hand on the doorframe and my right on the propeller.
When I started flying my instructor referred to the arc
swept by the prop as ‘the circle of death’. I have no innate sense of caution or self preservation, so
maybe it was this sunny moniker that led me to conduct a few tests before
starting the Cub. While clutching
the doorframe I cannot reach the propeller with my head. By reaching hard and straight out the
very worst I can manage would be a mid forearm amputation. Actually if I were to skillfully
execute a Buster Keaton reverse pratfall whilst holding the doorframe I could
easily get my knee into the mill.
I go over these facts one more time in my head and, feeling
that I am just about at top dead center on one of the little Continental’s
cylinders, I give a sharp heave.
Prior experience with remote control airplanes, glow plugs, batteries
and ‘chicken sticks’ tells me what to expect and I am not disappointed. The engine advances approximately 60
degrees and stops. There is no
bang, no putt putt putt, nothing.
This does not surprise or dishearten me in the least. I reach over the cowl a bit and take
ahold of the other blade.
Expecting little difference I heave this one through. This time, in full accordance with my
expectations the engine did not start.
Third time was not the charm.
Nor the fourth. Then I shut
down the mags and put the throttle at the firewall and pulled the prop through
a few more times. This time, on
the very first pull, the engine started right up and settled in to a pleasant
idle.
The airplane is just a joy to stand next to, running or
not. It is a wonderful color, the
lines are just fabulous, and the Cub has an amazing ‘flying machine’ aura that
is unlike any aircraft I have flown.
Getting in to the plane is a bit of chore because you have to watch
where you put your feet and the plane is not designed with taller fatter guys
in mind. But, once settled in,
like all the tandems I have flown, there is a ton of elbow room. The plane really feels roomy, but it is
a bit odd to be looking at someone’s head while trying to steer to the hold
short line. This is definitely a plane where S-turns are a good plan.
When we finally started the take off run, form the shorter
of John Wayne’s two runways, the size of the engine was immediately clear. As a tail dragger accelerates there is
a moment when the stick should be pushed forward to lift that little tail wheel
off the ground. Well, with two
guys in the plane that moment was a long time coming. The tiny engine huffed and puffed and finally got us going
fast enough to fly the tail. Some
time later, before I was worried about runway but perhaps twice as long as I
had expected, the rest of the plane wanted to fly. In the air the Cub is a total ball. It is completely docile, yet has a roll
rate and sprightliness to the pitch and yaw that I did not expect. The best thing is that it can be flown
with your eyes closed by paying careful attention to the sounds. You can hear the wind rushing over the
fuselage and around the wires so clearly and with such detail that it is clear
when you are in level versus climbing or descending flight, and a turn
introduces a clear asymmetry in the sound. It really made me want to fly with the doors off.
Since this was a check out we did wheel landings and three
pointers. Everything was very
benign despite a moderate cross wind.
About the worst thing I can say about the plane is that in three point
attitude it is not so easy to see exactly where the plane is headed. You need to fix the runway sight
picture in your brain as the nose starts up then really keep your head still
while looking out to the sides to monitor your vertical and lateral position. It sounds harder than it is, but the
first time I did it I flashed to John McPhee’s wonderful book on Bill Bradley –
‘A Sense of Where You Are’.
Apparently Bradley would walk around his hometown with eyes fixed
straight ahead trying to increase his ability to process the scenes that were
at the very edges of his peripheral vision. That book was published in 1965, the same year the Buck
brothers got the very most intimate sense of where they were in this broad and
topographically interesting country.
A good sense of where you are is probably one of the most important prerequisites
for enjoying flying the Cub.
