#14 - BE24 - Beech Sierra

#13 - EVSS - Evektor Sportstar

#12 - J3 - Piper Cub

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. 

#11 - BL8 - Super Decathlon

The Citabria and the Decathlon are very nearly the same airplane.  The Decathlon wing has a metal spar and the engine is a far more exciting 180 horsepower Lycoming.  I took one flight in the 8KCAB and I did not make use of its major advantage over the Citabria.  The Decathlon can do ‘outside’ maneuvers…these are things that put negative Gs on the plane – outside loops and inverted flight being the most common.  These fabric covered planes are rather common high wing, tandem aircraft and are often painted with a sunburst pattern on the wings and tail.  Like the 7 series airplanes, this is not a long distance flier, or a cruising machine.  It is designed for moderate aerobatics and is often a first competitive plane for novice aerobatics pilots. 

The very decathlon I flew at the airport I flew it from

I got in it because the Citabria was rented that day, I needed more tailwheel time and I thought I might go on to get an aerobatics endorsement.  I still might, but I ran out of steam shortly after this flight. The parachute that is required when doing aerobatics does not cramp the pilot’s sitting arrangement or make it seem more difficult to get out the flimsy fabric door.  In fact, sitting on the chute makes for a slightly higher perch that makes taxing even less of an issue in this plane. We departed John Wayne for some aerobatics practice on a perfectly clear, blue-sky day.  The aerobatics box is about a five mile flight from the pattern and the controls on the Decathlon proved light and well balanced.  There is some adverse yaw, so I spent a little time in straight and level flight working on Dutch Rolls.  The rudder is heavier than in a Cessna or Piper, but it also does a good deal more.  On this particular Decathlon there were wire sculptures out at the end of the wingtip that allow pilot to judge the angle of the wing relative to the horizon when the wing is in usual attitudes. 

I did rolls, snap rolls, an inside loop, a hammerhead and I attempted an Immelman turn.  From this I learned that this is one capable airplane.  The larger engine relative to the Citabria really makes a difference.  The other thing we learned is that I might be too easily disoriented to be a good aerobatics pilot.  My principal gift as an aviator (or SCUBA diver, or parent) is that I do not get overly excited or panicky when things are potentially not going well.  When I got confused in the Immelman I was in no way wondering whether I knew where I was.  I absolutely knew that I was completely confused about my posture vis-à-vis the earth, but I was not overly concerned about that. Either I do not have the intelligence to understand the implications of situations like this or I am not imaginative enough about the outcomes.  As I must have known, back in the reptile part of my brain, once the world stopped spinning it was clear I was in a 60 degree bank and letting the nose fall off into a power dive.  I remedied that, but I suspect the true ugliness of the attempted maneuver made my instructor wonder.

Chris asked whether I had recently done much spinning.  I allowed as the last time I had done any was when Dan, one of my several flight instructors, decided it would be good for my digestion and complexion to spin his Cessna 150.  We did spin entries for about 40 minutes and I confess that I had only a vague idea of where I was at any time.  Well, Chris had me spin that Decathlon, and I am here to tell you that while I read in the magazines about the gentle stall characteristics of this plane and that I never read about how sprightly an airframe enters an ‘over the top’ spin.  Someone should write about that.  This plane really, really likes to spin.  The first spin I popped into in the usual fashion with some up elevator and crossed controls.  I pulled out of the spin without help, but was completely stumped by the question that came over my headset.  ‘How many times did we go around’?  Are you kidding?  I am psyched when I keep it straight and level, while spinning I have no clue what is going on.  ‘Once’ I said only to be told that we did two and a half rotations.  Huh.  OK, I’ll count the next time. 

I pulled us in to another one, this time stalling the higher wing and getting that awesome flippy sensation when the flying wing and the stalled wing swap attitudes all of a sudden.  I counted out loud and got to four before rescuing us from certain dizziness.    Chris allowed as I was counting something other than rotations since I seemed to increment the list a little more often than I should.  Three and a quarter rotations; I did not even come out on the heading I went in on.  A third time I took us around and once again my count was off.  ‘What part of the horizon are you looking at when you fix a landmark’ asked Chris?  That was when I realized that I generally keep my eyes closed for the first part of the spin.  It is more fun that way.  Less pro apparently, but more fun.  A few more spins with my eyes open and I was able to report accurately on the number of arounds.  The spins seemed less exciting though, perhaps I need to add a small cabin fire to keep things interesting.

In any case, as we headed back to the airport I decided that even a neophyte like me could feel that the Decathlon is a more capable aerobat than the Citabria.  Hopefully I will get some more comparison flying in.  No way I could afford to rent the Extra or Pitts, but someday I’ll get a few more aerobatic airframes under my belt.  A perfect wheel landing finished off the afternoon.

As two passenger airplanes, with a somewhat antisocial seating arrangement, neither the Citabria nor the Decathlon is something you would buy for transport.  If you need to get from A to B the choices range from the pedestrian and inexpensive Cessna 150, through the snappy handling Grumman Yankee, to the modern, sleek, fast and easy on fuel Diamond DV20.  No, these airplanes are for folks who want to fly.  Pilots who are perfectly happy if the majority of log book entries read KFHR Local in the destination block.  For someone who wants an avenue for experiencing flight at its purest, these are wonderful planes.  Their location in the flight envelope can usually be determined without reference to instruments, simply listen to the sound of the wind whistling across the fabric and around the struts.  The price for a Citabria is somewhere south of $50K and for the Super D you can expect to pay over $150K.  Neither one is for the faint of wallet, but both planes bring a purity of flight mixed with aerobatic capability to the table.  This has to be worth the price of admission for many folks. 

The only caveat I would emphasize for the potential owner is that as fabric covered airplanes these really should be in a hanger.  Though the John Wayne aerobatics operation kept theirs in the blazing seaside sun, and bragged about 10-15 year life spans for the covering, I would be very reluctant to put a $15K recovering job out in the salt air.  That corrosive air is another reason the hanger is worth while.  The fabric and strut combination makes for some really good hiding places for corrosion.  This is something to think about on the pre-buy as well as when storing the plane.

#10 - CH7A - Citabria

When I moved from Redondo Beach to Irvine I left the wonderful airplane rental community of Torrance Airport (KTOA), for the incredibly restrictive and stifling atmosphere of John Wayne Airport (KSNA).  I checked out the flying clubs and the FBOs but it was not going to be very much fun to get checked out to fly let alone head out on a whim to take the waters on Catalina.  I was a little bummed and started looking harder at the used airplane market.  I put myself on the list for a tie down at John Wayne - 4 years later they called me to say I was up. Then I realized that there were all these neat merit badges I could earn.  The FAA issued me a license to pilot a single engine land plane…under visual flight rules conditions…as long as the engine was not too big…and the wheels could not tuck up out of sight…and the third wheel was on the correct end. 

Each of the caveats can be wiped away with more training.  My brother got the engine size limitation removed by threatening to buy a Cessna.  Actually he was really up front with the salesman and explained that next week he was buying a Diamondstar.  The salesman said that what he really wanted was a glass cockpit 182.  Well, Colin said he was pretty sure he did not want that.  The salesman said he would be there in the morning with a spiffy new plane that would be irresistible.  When Colin pointed out that he could not even act as PIC of the plane since the engine was larger than 200hp the salesman allowed that as he was a CFI he could just write that endorsement in Colin’s logbook after he had flown around in the 182 for a while. It really was that easy.  Clearly not the merit badge I wanted. 

After some consideration I decided on the tailwheel endorsement.  Airplane generally have three wheels, though I have flown both two and four wheeled varieties. Those three wheels can come in two arrangements: either the single wheel can be in front of the pair of main wheels or it can be behind.  Airplanes started out with just a pair of wheels and the tail was held up by a bent piece of metal.  The planes were always landing on grass and the tail skid was just fine bouncing over the turf.  When runways started to get paved, say 90 years ago when flying was becoming mildly popular, the shower of sparks from a tail skid on tarmac could elicit concern on the part of potential passengers.  This led to its replacement with a little, tiny, hard rubber wheel.  This tailwheel configuration is called conventional gear because it was in opposition to the with the single wheel was up on the nose.  My goodness, all sorts of bad things, front smacking the prop to the plane hitting a bump and tripping on to its nose could be caused by that pernicious ‘tricycle’ gear.  I think the picked ‘tricycle’ because the old timers could not get ‘damnfool’ or ‘newfangled’ to stick. 

In any case, now it takes a special endorsement to take to the sky in an airplane with a tailwheel.  There are really good reasons why this is so and they primarily have to do with momentum. An airplane with tricycle gear has the center of mass somewhere in front of the two main wheels, this keeps the nose down on that misplaced wheel sticking down from the region of the engine.  With conventional gear the center of mass is behind those two big main wheels and if it were not the plane would nose right over on to its prop.  So, what is the big deal?  Well, once an airplane gets going the placement of that center of mass is important.  If the tail starts to wander left or right in a tricycle gear airplane the center of mass up in front of the mains will tend to pull the tail back towards the middle.  In contrast, a when the tail swings in a conventional plane the center of mass swings out that same way and tends to keep the rotation going. Imagine riding a bike with a big pail of water on a long stick out in front.  Hit the brakes and the pail pulls you forward, but if that long stick is trailing out behind, when you hit the brakes the bucket is apt to come swinging around one side or the other.  That fundamental instability is a real knock on the conventional gear, especially when combined with a little aerodynamics. 

The wing generates lift as air moves over it.  More airspeed means more lift, in fact much more because lift goes up with the square of airspeed.  Well, when the tail of a tailwheel airplane starts to swing around, propelled faster and faster by the instability of the center of mass being behind the mains, the wing on the outside of the turn is moving a lot faster than the wing on the inside.  In fact, the plane is often rotating around one of the wingtips, which means the airspeed is nearly zero.  So...no lift on the inside wing and a good deal of lift on the outside wing.  What happens?  The plane flips on its back or at least tilts the outside wing up until the inside wing hits the ground.  This is called a ground loop and while loops are normally something you might recount with great glee this type only happens to the other, less skilled pilots.  Except for that time when it was not at all your fault. 

More training is needed to fly tailwheels, that is all there is to it.  John Wayne has an excellent aerobatics school run by an autocratic, but basically nice fellow with very firm ideas of how people should fly, learn to fly, and think about flying.  One thing they do very well is teach the tailwheel.  For one thing they have a lot of different tailwheel types.  When I was there they had five types and perhaps eight planes.  This is eight more than almost any other training company I can name.  I flew three of these types and they would not have signed my endorsement without at least two.  If I were a bigger ticket sort of guy I could have flown the last two, a Pitts S2 and an Extra once I had the endorsement in hand.  But, to start they put me in the most docile tailwheel they could find, the American Champion Citabria 7ECA (type CH7A).

The Citabria was a stronger, faster version of the Aeronca Champ, itself an attempt to improve on the oddities of the Piper Cub.  The idea was to sell a short field plane that could hold two and be completely aerobatic.  In fact airbatic citabria is a palindrome. Walking up to the plane I was really book smart, I had read the POH extensively, and about tailwheels in general, but nervous about my lack of practical experience.  This was not just my first tailwheel plane but the first made of cast off rags and wire, the first where they threw the copilot seat in the trunk when they realized it would not fit next to the pilot, and the first with a wooden spar.  I mean really, the whole dang wing is supported with wood.  Termites eat it, it burns, it rots – what kind of fool build an airplane wing out of it and then sits the airplane outside?  I was nervous.  Also, the doors were essentially a pillow case strong on some coat hangers, with some saran wrap so you could see what you would fall on when the wing spar gave way. 

About that tow bar.  There is none.  You just grab the back end of the plane and push it to move side to side and push on a wing strut to get it rolling forward.  Once out of the parking spot we did a preflight that included looking at a lot of bits and bobs that might either rot or come untwisted, causing great issues with the aerodynamics of the plane.  Once all was inspected and found to be in as good condition as it was designed to be, we climbed in with the instructor in back. I’ll  get this out of the way early: this plane is not for folks who take great comfort (probably misplaced) in smooth metal or upholstery.  The seats are really camp chairs wired in to the birdcage frame.  I am pretty sure the cushions were leftover from a college football pep rally, though I was surprised they were not emblazed with a school mascot.  The controls and instruments are basic, but as I settled in to the seat I realized that nervous was giving way to excited.  This plane is designed to fly, not carry folks around in comfort, just fly.  There is something very, very cool about that. 

The forward visibility of taildraggers is always a potential issue on the ground, but the Citabria has a good enough view over the nose that the only reason for S-turns while taxiing is so that I can learn S-turns.  And to keep the stick back.  In the very light winds the plane does not even feel a little bit squirrelly and by the time I am lined up and ready to go I am nothing but excited.  The engine is small, but the tandem seating makes for a narrow, low drag fuselage, and that spiderwork of tubing covered with fabric is far lighter than an equivalent metal plane.  So, while the Citabria does not leap off the pavement it does get moving smartly and we are airborne and headed for the aerobatics box in short order.  This is another airplane with a control stick; I have a hard time imagining aerobatics with a control yoke.  I am mostly learning tailwheel operations, so we will soon go back and practice landings, but first I get to do what every kid who has ever thought of flying wants to do…fly the plane upside down.  All the planes I have flown until now can do aerobatics, but they are not only not designed for it, but it is both illegal and ill advised.  It is far too easy to screw up and overstress the airframe.

This plane is made to loop and roll and hammerhead.  So that is what I do.  The instructor is wonderfully tolerant. I just tell him what I want to try next and then I move the stick and rudder in the directions I think will accomplish that.  It mostly works, but when I ask to be shown the difference between a aileron roll and a snap roll I get a chance to see how wonderfully precise the Citabria can be in the right hands.  When we return to the pattern I do both wheel and three point landings and neither one seems particularly difficult.  There is little wind so there is not much opportunity for hilarity on the roll outs, but in general I am impressed with how docile and clean this little plane is.  The more landings I do the more I see why there are some folks who only fly taildraggers.  The plane has to be flown even while on the ground.  When it takes off you have to lift the tail, build up speed then rotate.  It turns a simple takeoff into something you have to pay attention to: it is aviating. The Citabria may not have all the muscle of its bigger aerobatic cousins, but it convinced me to keep at the tailwheel endorsement.  Next up the Decathlon…same plane with a bigger engine and a metal spar.  After the jiggling I gave my guts in this plane I am quite sure that I do not want to experience whatever G-forces lie between the wooden and the metal spar.  

#9 - AA5 - Grumman Tiger

I flew the Grumman American Yankee when I was getting my ticket.  In the years that followed I was a serious student of plausible first planes for a fellow like me.  I am completely agnostic in the great wars over wing placement, except that I firmly believe they should be there.  High, low, mid, canard, it is all the same to me.  I can easily see myself in a pusher prop plane or a tail dragger, all that really matters is that it fly.  But, that little Yankee got to me a bit.  It was such a sweet flyer that a major contender for first airplane because its four seater big brother.  There were essentially three models that mirror the three/four engines put in the Skyhawk and the Warrior. The Traveler had a little 150 horsepower engine, but with its clean lines and narrow fuselage it managed 20 more knots than the Cessna on a little less fuel.  The Cheetah was a slicked up version and got yet more speed out of the same engine, and the Tiger put 180 horses up front and managed about 140 knots at less than 10 gallons per hour.  I was completely enamored with the sliding canopy and even joined the type club for a year to read more about people who had taken the plunge.  All things being equal I suppose the Cheetah is the plane I would have tried to afford and I even called Barron Thomas once when there was one that looked like too good a deal to pass up.  But I had never flown one until I stumbled upon another pilot who worked in the same building.

This is what the Tiger looks like, but I can't find any photos of the one I flew

Dana had been flying for 20 years and had owned the Tiger with a partner for about 8 years or so.  His description of the partnership is one of only two that I have heard in detail and it did not make me want to shell out real money for a part of a plane.  For one thing, when you have partners you keep track of every hour and charge the partnership for them.  I actively do not want to know what the flying is costing me.  Since I am well over 200 hours a year it must be cheaper than renting, but I sure do not want to really know the per hour cost.  Dana and I had talked planes quite a bit and I started passing along the copies of the NTSB reporter than my brother passed along to me.  It was pretty clear that Dana and I are very different sorts of pilots, with him being he smart cautious one.  We tried several times to set a time to go out flying, but with one thing and another it was about 8 months before we hit a day that seemed perfect for a lunch trip up to Santa Barbara.  We would depart from Orange County (KSNA) and meet my brother at 1500 feet over Santa Monica (KSNA).  He would also be in a plane. 

As I expected from the Yankee experience just walking up to the Tiger is great fun. It is a very cool looking airplane with flowing lines and neat little holes for cooling flow in the front of the cowling. Entry is exactly like the Yankee, step up onto the trailing edge of the wing then slide open the canopy and step in.  The ergonomics are such that it is easiest to step on the seat then the floor of the cockpit, so the smart pilot flips up the seat cushion with her toe before stepping on the seat then knocks it back down again as the other foot is brought in to the cockpit.  I flew right seat, but all that time in the right seat of the Diamond, and any other airplane I fly with my brother, means that I am about as comfortable operating on the co-pilot’s side as I am in the left seat.  The panel is pretty standard, with the main oddity being he placement of the fuel gauges, which are on the side panels because they directly read from the tubular tank in each wing.  The tubular tanks are an issue if the plane gets in a spin because the fuel can be pulled away from the wing root and the fuel line will unport leaving you in a plane that is rapidly rotating, falling fast and has no engine.  Since this is more excitement than even utility pilots are accustomed to, spins are prohibited.

Starting is about the usual for a carbureted 180 hp Lycoming.  Prime a few times with the mixture full rich and the throttle cracked.  Mags on both and push the starter button.  The engine usually catches on a few blades unless the weather is just brutally cold.  An excellent feature of the Tiger (and Yankee) is that the canopy can be open during taxi and even during flight.  This really mitigates the greenhouse effect of the bubble canopy on a sunny southern California day.  We taxied to the run up area and I reacquainted myself with the concept of a castering nose wheel.  It is a feature I actually like in a plane and would put it on a list of things I would like my theoretical perfect plane to have.  The ability to turn a tricycle gear airplane in a radius normally only seen by conventional gear planes is a real plus.   I like doing a 360 after the run up to see whether I can spot folks in the pattern.  Tail wheels or castering nosewheels make this a fun proposition rather than an exercise in staying inside the run up area. 

Lining up for takeoff I recalled that the Yankee needed more right rudder than the Warrior, but when I poured to coals to the Tiger I found it climbed straight and fast with pretty minimal rudder input.  Not ten feet off the ground it is already clear that this is not a Cessna/Piper straight ahead workhorse.  This plane can fly and if you are not right on top of the control yoke and rudders you quickly find yourself correcting for errors you are not sure you made.  The plane has such a direct connection between me hand and pitch, roll and yaw, that you will go exactly where you aim…but the corollary is that if your mind wanders the airplane will as well.  The C172 is so stable that I can often fly 50 miles without putting in more than a token bump of effort on the yoke.  In the Tiger you could get it trimmed then shift your feet or put a little unconscious pressure on the yoke and before you know it you are sliding off in some direction only vaguely related to the one you were hoping to fly.  I find that when I am ahead of the airplane and have a clear idea of my destination that I can keep my head out of the cockpit and fly long straight distances.  But when I get behind, like when I am told to watch for wake turbulence from a departing 737, the airplane darts around like a fractious horse. 

The airspace of LA and its environs is wonderfully complex. I say that as someone who trained in there and whose second flight was through the ‘miniroute’ over Los Angeles International Airport.  This required following a VOR before I was entirely sure what the navigation radio was listening for. I think I had a vague idea that it was turning in various talk radio shows and guessing where you were by the suite of available programming and the strength of the various signals.  Lots of preachers over by John Wayne/Orange County.   More NPR as you head north.  In any case, the airspace gave me an excuse to maneuver the airplane quite a bit on the way up to find my brother.  As I had hoped, the pushrod actuators on the controls and the laminar flow wing made for an agile and steady airplane.  Just to get the feel for what landing would be like I did one power off stall at 2500 feet.  The look on Dana’s face and his pointing out that he does not do stalls in the plane without an instructor, convinced me to go a bit easier in my testing.  We got overhead Santa Monica and I cranked in 45 degrees of bank, added a little trim (which is electric, by the way) and started a series of small circles over the airport.  Dana seemed to be impressed with my airmanship, but I believe he would have preferred to hear of my exploits while we sat in his office making flying noises.  Eventually the DA40 rose up towards us and we raced for the Santa Monica Mountains.  The Diamond is fast but the Grumman had no problem keeping up.  It may even be that the Tiger was a little faster.  You will never get my brother to say, he rarely thinks about his air speed as long as the plane is not in danger of stalling.

We zipped up to Santa Barbara and the flight was too short by several hours.  It is just a great plane to fly.  More fun than should be possible in a vehicle worth less than $60,000. I was really happy when Dana offered to let me take the landing.  I have no idea whether he was being generous, he was confident in my abilities, or so airsick from my piloting that he just desperately wanted to get on the ground. I set up for left traffic and went a little long on downwind because I had heard a long stabilized approach helps you to land these planes. If you read much about the Grummans a recurring theme is that they like to fly, conversely they are not so keen on stopping flying.  If you have a little extra airspeed, say for good luck, or because it is Tuesday, or because there are a godawful lot of bushes on that side of the runway, you will find that scrubbing off that speed is difficult.  Raising the nose just makes the plane balloon, neglecting to scrub off the speed leads to a departure into the weeds at the end of the runway.  In any case, I had been boning up on the POH and had the spot landing speed in my head.  I called the 1000 foot markers and landed 50 feet from the numbers end of them.  It was a good landing and Dana looked relieved.  We had a pleasant lunch and then headed back to John Wayne.  The plane is beaut and with the sliding canopy would be pretty easy to exit in the case of ending up in the water.  This one is on my list of step ups from the 172, but it is hard to imagine the circumstances where it is enough of a step up since I own the 172.  

#8 -G103 - Grob Glider

Pilots are remarkable folks in many ways, some of them quite entertaining. For example, my informal research has shown that over 90% of pilots consider themselves well above average when it comes to airplane handling skills.  This is certainly a possibility, but it requires that the remaining 10% or so be so deficient that I believe the FAA and perhaps even passersby would take notice.  Perhaps because I learned to fly with my little brother, who really is somewhat above average, I never had the illusion that I was a particularly good pilot…enthusiastic? Absolutely! Highly skilled?  Well, he has not screwed up too badly yet, but neither has he accumulated too many hours.  And many of those were supervised.  And there was that runway excursion we could mention.  And the time he tried to leave with the chocks firmly in place. Actually – ‘times’.  No, I have never thought of myself as the reincarnation of Wolfgang Langewiesche…but I did think I had passable stick and rudder coordination.

This is how the plane looks at rest, I did not just miss the runway.

Then I tried gliding.  My wife and I had a daughter, and I arranged to take a month in Hawaii to get some field work done and get to know the new baby.  I quickly discovered that airplane rentals in Hawaii were beyond my means and somewhat impractical, but there is a healthy glider gang that operates out of Dillingham Field on the northwest corner of Oahu.  That seemed like the ideal next step in my flight training.  I headed up to the airport to find two operations that would train new glider pilots.  There was nothing to choose between them as far as I could see so I walked up to the one that appeared to have a person right there, right now for me to talk to.  After some negociation we settled that I would take my glider ticket with the chief pilot/instructor/sightseeing flight pilot.  I was asked when I would like to start and answered as any completely addicted flyboy would – immediately. 

Well, there was about two hours of ground school and then we climbed into the two seater Grob 103.  I have no other gliding experience so I can’t say how this plane compares to the others, but as an SEL pilot I will note a few differences that I found striking.  First of all the wings are exceptionally long and have a narrow chord.  This is an efficiency issue and does an impressive job cutting down drag. The landing gear is just two wheels, and these are placed one in front of the other.  At rest the Grob lies with one wingtip in the red dirt.  Upon climbing in to this, my first tandem two seater, I was struck by the lack of instruments.  There is an altimeter and a very sensitive vertical speed indicator but no radio, intercom, transponder, or GPS.  This is rudimentary, seat of the pants flying. 

We were towed into the air by a conventional airplane which spends the day hauling the motor-deprived into the blue yonder.  The sailplane, once airborne, will get lift from two principle sources.  The first is the ridge of land that lies at an oblique angle to the nearly constant trade winds.  The wind hits the ridge and rises to flow over it.  A canny glider driver can ride the face of the ridge indefinitely, catching the rising air close to the ridge and then falling out and away before returning to the ridge for another updraft.  The other source of potential energy is the rising air at the center of the minor convective activity that is an afternoon feature in Hawaii.  Heading for the dark underbelly of a cloud will quickly land the glider in a rising column of air feeding the nascent thunderhead water and heat. 

This first familiarization flight allows me to try my hand at both types of lift.  Apparently I do passably well as we are still up in the air some 25 minutes into the experience.  However, something about my flying seems to trouble my instructor, and he asks me to head out towards the sea and roll the plane back and forth.  Specifically he asks for ‘Dutch Rolls’.  Now it is entirely possible that this is a maneuver that is required for the private pilot license, and if so I would direct your recollection to the fact that these writings are complete fictions.  But, if it excusable that I had never tried this then I will admit that my first thought was that this was an odd culinary tradition of the glider set.  I kept on a straight and level heading expecting some cheesy baked good in return for my ridge lift and thermal lift performance.  Instead I was treated to a demo of the Dutch roll.  It is simplicity itself to explain: waggle the wings so that the nose of the plane sits on a point and the fuselage rotates some 45 degrees about its long axis.  Having since tried this in every airplane type I have flown I can say with certainty that the Grob 103 is the hardest plane in which to execute this simple maneuver that I have flown.

A car driving through town on the way to the airfield is controlled along one axis – yaw. Turning the wheel causes the car to move about an axis that runs from the top to the bottom of the car.  Once you get to the airport and get in your plane there are an additional two axes to deal with. The yaw axis has been moved from your hands to your feet, explaining the sometimes panic stricken look on student pilots as they miss the turnoff because they are turning the control yoke rather than mashing the foot pedals.  Rotation about the long axis of the plane, called ‘roll’, is controlled by turning the yoke. The nose up/down movement, rotation about an axis passing from one side of the cabin to the other is called pitch and is controlled by pushing and pulling the yoke.  Or, in the case of the glider, a stick that serves the same function as a yoke.  In an ideal airplane these three axes could be controlled completely independently: a control input that changes the roll axis would have no effect on the other axes.  Of course the real world is not so neat.

Roll is controlled by a pair of ailerons, one on the trailing edge of each wing.  When rolling to the right the right side aileron goes up and the left side goes down.  This pushes the right wing down and the left wing up.  It also changes the amount of drag on each wing and it is the downward moving wing that has less drag.  Since there is less drag on the downward wing side a yaw is induced towards the left.  Get it? A roll right leads to the whole plane yawing left.  This is called adverse yaw because it is acting in the opposite direction from the roll.  After a fairly short time most pilots figure out that adverse yaw is easily corrected with a little bit of rudder; since you are countering a left yaw a little right rudder will do the trick.  Sounds easy and really, in most airplanes I have flown it is easy.  For one thing, the tail of the plane is big and far away from the cabin, so there is a lot of stability in the yaw axis.  For another the ailerons can be designed to minimize the drag changes when they are moved.  However, gliders have very long, narrow wings and the ailerons are also long.  This leads to an impressive amount of adverse yaw. 

A skilled pilot would have figured this out while boxing the wake the very first time they were towed into the air.  Me? I had no idea that I was not coordinated in my turns, that is, I was completely ignorant of the fact that my roll was causing the nose of the plane to push out the wrong way. I attribute this to the newness of the sensations and the complete lack of the simple slip indicator I was used to from powered flight.  This is nothing more than a black ball in a tube that has a slight bend in it. The bottom of this gentle curve is towards the floor of the plane, and the little black ball sits happily at this lowest point as long as gravity points in that direction.  When you turn the plane in a coordinated fashion, making sure there is no adverse yaw, the ball stays planted firmly in the middle.  It is possible to spin the plane through 360 degrees around its long axis without ever causing the ball to move from the center.  If you don’t believe me, take a look at Bob Hoover’s tea trick.  If the plane starts skidding or plowing through a turn that ball will move from the center in the direction of the gravity vector.  Stepping on the rudder pedal on the side that the ball has moved to will return it to the center.  But, no ball, no idea what I was doing in a turn.  That was when the instructor pointed out the yarn. 

Yep, this lightweight plane, with darn near no instrumentation, had a 4 inch piece of brown yarn scotch taped to the bubble canopy right in front of my eyes.  As I turned left and right the yarn was flopping first to one side, then the other.  The wind around the canopy was telling me when I was uncoordinated and the yarn was revealing the wind’s movement.  Yarn does not work on propeller planes because the prop wash over the windshield ensures that regardless of how ham-footed you are the yarn will always call you Georges Guynemer.  Turns out I was not just bad at Dutch rolls but maddeningly bad.  I would get two or three linked together, moving my hands and feet in a coordinated ballet, when somehow my lack of internal rhythm would intervene and I would push with the left foot when I meant to push with the right and the glider would shake itself like a dog getting up from a month old dead deer carcass.  I spent the rest of the flight trying to get the footwork to link up with the stick work.  I was sweating like I had been carrying the darn plane by the time we set up to land, and frankly I was so tired from concentrating that the lack of engine on final never bothered me a bit. 

I ended up taking three lessons and four hours or so of airtime in the Grob and I finally got the takeoff, Dutch rolls and landings totally knocked.  The best ting about learning to soar was learning to estimate the angle of descent in order to nail the landing zone.  This is a lesson that serves me well every time I fly.  So, I figured for sure I would get my glider ticket, and even if it was not something I would often use I would have one more credential.  I had not counted on the long arm of the law and the inflexible nature of my flying budget.  I really had things wired financially, enough for the ground school, teaching materials and the airtime.  I had even set aside the money for the designated examiner and a celebratory lunch.  However, there was not much slop.  I needed to progress quickly and be soloing by hour five.  My fourth ride was the pre-solo check and I was quite confident that all would go well.  I am sure my instructor had faith in me as well because he seemed like a fellow who was a good judge of character and flying ability.  Sadly, when I went up to Dillingham for that fourth flight he was not there.  It seems that he and the FAA did not strictly see eye to eye on some exposition he had placed in a student’s log book.  Something about signing off on flights where he was not actually at the airfield.  I am sure there are several sides to the story, but airplane piloting is quite unforgiving in that the only side of the story that matters in the slightest is that of the FAA.  They had suspended not just his CFI ticket but all his flight privileges for 90 days.  The other glider operation explained this to me since the one I wanted to see was closed.  The other operation was happy to take me soaring, but they would give me no credit for either the ground or the airtime and I was told it would be at least 5-10 hours before I soloed in one of their planes.  This pretty well took the wind from under my wings and I have put my glider career on hold.  Nevertheless this type did bring a lot of firsts: first tandem, first without electrical system, first without engine, first with speed brakes, and first plane that really made me work a the concept of stick and rudder flying.  That last one was well worth the price of admission.

#7 - DA40 - Diamondstar

One type has to be the ‘best’, and at 1/5^th of the way to my goal that airplane is Diamond Aircraft’s DA40 – the Diamondstar.  It is also very nearly the most expensive airplane I have flown, and the most recent design.  Oh, and I have over 100 hours in it, so I am partial in part through familiarity.  This is the plane that my brother, an equally obsessed aviator, bought a month or so after he got his ticket.  The DA40 is a four place single made of fiberglass. Like the DV20 two seater it has an extremely wasp-waisted look and a t-tail.  The tip up canopy and low wing give the plane visibility like the Grumman Yankee, but the entry is far more civilized, with no stepping on the seats.  Best of all, the back seat passengers, who I am sure matter, have their very own door.  I have never been back there, but it looks quite comfortable.  The plane is powered by the fuel injected, 180hp Lycoming IO360, spinning a constant speed two bladed (or three bladed) propeller.  The plane is not considered a trainer, though with the G1000 avionics it is about the same price as a brand new Cessna 172.  Maybe at over $300k the Cessna is not a trainer anymore either. 

My brother's Diamondstar with a huge swarm of bees hoping to build a nest.  He flies too often for that to work out for them.

This plane is fast – if you run the engine hard it will do 135 knots all day long.  My brother and I flew it across country in three days, and he now makes that trip every summer.  The avionics are state of the art, with a huge primary flight display in front of the pilot and an equally large multi function display in front of the right seat.  The version I have flown has the KAP140 autopilot, rightly considered a distant second best to the Garmin model.  Nevertheless it will fly a coupled approach and with the WAAS upgrade the plane is a very capable light IFR machine.  It is really best to stay well away from ice in this slick beast as there are not even options for dealing with inadvertent encounters…unless you think ascending, descending or cursing are effective options.  The cockpit is quite roomy and, in sunny southern California, an excellent place to grow tomatoes in the winter.  If you can afford this airplane get a few collapsible sun shades to stick to the bubble, it will obscure some of the view, but you will not feel quite so Rudyard Kipling in India. 

Flying the DA40 is a total blast.  First of all, it has a joystick…yep, no car-like wheel sitting up front, it is fighter pilot all the way.  This critter is a blown up DV20 and so it shares the motorglider heritage.  This is most easily seen in the very bright lines that DA40 owners paint on the floor of their hangers…the wings are so long that a foot of air between wing and hanger door is the norm.  These long wings mean the plane LOVES to fly.  If you get fast on final you are going to be touching down well past the Thai restaurant; and you may be thinking about taking another crack at it as you realize 2000 feet of runway are sitting behind you and the wheels are still a few inches above tarmac.  Takeoffs, even with 4 full seats and a lot of fuel are fun, with plenty of climb and a deck angle that still leaves you good visibility.  The font office is nothing short of intimidating if all you have flown are steam gauges.  The G1000 is all glass and though I find it intuitive to use I have watched other folks really lose track of the plane as they tried to figure out how to jump to a new leg on a flight plan, find the local flight service station frequency, or calculate the true airspeed.  There are not that many buttons and knobs, but one in particular can be turned, pushed and tilted in any direction.  That makes for a steep learning curve and a very fast loss of familiarization.  I feel like a year off of steam gauges would not render me useless, but a similar time away from the G1000 and I would probably be better off just flying with my iPad and ignoring all the buttons. 

I have had a number of really memorable flights in this airplane and I can’t say that it has even a single bad flight characteristic.  I wish the seats leaned back, the trim wheel could be a little larger, and the glare shield could use a better anti-vibration system, but if you can afford this airplane you should get it. It will run lean of peak at 7 gph and 128 knots and seems to cost no more to annual than a newer 172.  It is also an intuitive airplane to fly, or at least it was for me.  That actually almost got us in real trouble when my brother bought the plane. I drove to Long Beach to meet Robert, the salesman and fly the as yet unpurchased airplane to Santa Monica to pick up my brother.  His business and half his life was in Las Vegas at the time and so for tax reasons he would take formal delivery of the plane at North Las Vegas airport.  I flew left seat up from Long Beach and between some experience in the DC20, a lot of reading about the G1000, and plain dumb luck I flew the plane pretty well.  Robert was particularly impressed with the landing, which saw the wheels touch smoothly down on the 1000 foot markers, exactly where I had intended.  Robert had flown with my brother when selling the airplane and recognized that Colin is one of those rare natural aviators who seems to instinctively understand how the plane will behave.  When we stopped at the restaurant to pick up Colin Robert and I got out and he walked around to get in the back.  I asked whether he wanted to fly right seat and he said that it seemed to him that we were perfectly qualified to take the plane to Vegas. 

Perhaps qualified, but were we insured?  I did not ask, I do not turn down flight time ever, and certainly not in a plane as nice as this one.  So, with Robert, the flight instructor and owner’s representative seated well away from the controls we headed to Vegas.  It was a perfect flight. Colin and I fly well together, handing off control with clarity and ease, and picking up the non-flying duties seamlessly.  We were in rare form, especially given that neither one of us had 100 hours or more than eight in type.  We made not a single bobble or minor error on that flight, we made every radio call, had a clear understanding of engine parameters and kept well ahead of the plane the whole way.  Colin took the landing, and as I always do, I followed through.  It may be a bit rude, but I almost always follow along as I land in a small plane, I like to feel how other people land and I suppose I am looking out for that short final stroke.  Well, it was not too hot and there was not much turbulence, Colin had the plane stable and right on speed as we hit short final.  The nose wheel was centered perfectly and he was controlling for the slight right to left crosswind.  It was quite mysterious to me then, when he greased the landing that he then started to slowly drift left.  It was as though he was forgetting who was in charge of the plane.  I called out that he should put in right rudder…more right rudder…then I felt for the right rudder myself.  It was against the firewall and we were still doing about 20 mph and slowly turning more to the left. We departed the runway and to slow down Colin whacked one of those little runway lights.  Just as he was deciding when to further slow us by whacking one of those great big runway signs the plane came to a stop.  Colin immediately goosed the engine a bit in an attempt to get back on the runway, but it was clear something was amiss so he shut down. 

Robert was a little bummed. When we exited the airplane it became clear that the left main tire was flat…and the wheel pant was somewhat smashed from Colin’s excellent aim at the runway light.  Robert, a little bit downcast, explained that you simply cannot hit the brakes while the flaps are deployed.  It will flat spot and burst a tire in a heartbeat because with flaps in there is little weight on the wheels.  Since I was running flaps and Colin was running brakes the thought was that we had gotten out of synch.  I supposed it was possible, but it sure didn’t feel right.  The plane never tracked straight, not from the moment we landed.  Colin is not a fellow who leans on the brakes, he flies and lands very smoothly, letting the plane slow down on its own and using the brakes once the plane is going quite slow.  But, maybe he had a spasm, or a twitch.  In any case, we now had a flat tire and smashed wheel pant on an airplane that Colin did not yet own.  The check in his pocket was not actually signed.  Hmmm.  Well, we called the FBO and the came and towed us off the runway.  We headed off to get food and talk about the value of a somewhat dinged up brand new plane. 

Robert and Colin worked it all out over lunch and the check changed hands.  The FBO put on a new tire and removed both wheel pants.  We headed back to the airport to discover something interesting.  The AP who had worked on the plane had a souvenir for Colin.  An inch long piece of stiff steel wire that was found in the inner tube of the tire.  Apparently the brush used to clean the wheel must have shed the wire during the original assembly in Canada.  The wire sat there and worked its way from the wheel surface through the inner tube and while we were flying to Vegas all the air was leaking out of the tire through that little hole.  Suddenly Robert was not so downcast, Colin was not kicking himself and I was a lot less mystified.  All in all Colin did a hell of job missing big, off runway obstacles, and we all agreed that a flat tire on landing is a difficult row to hoe even if you know it is flat.  As a grand surprise it is a tall order indeed. 

The very best thing about the DA40 is that it has been around for 10 years or so now and there is a reasonable used market.  They were made without the G1000 at first and a steam gauge model can be a real bargain.  If you are thinking of a later model used 172 or Warrior, or even the retract versions of these, take a flight in the Diamondstar.  It is pushing down the used price of metal airplanes and it should be.  It is a better airframe, which is not too unexpected since it was designed nearly fifty years after Clyde Cessna put his stamp on the Skyhawk plans.  

#5 - DV20 - Diamond DA20 Eclipse, Katana, Evolution

The Diamond Aircraft Company, along with Cirrus and the no longer independent Columbia, has been instrumental in reinvigorating small, piston engine, general aviation.  All three companies started with a clean sheet design, using well understood, but underutilized composite materials.  Diamond, an Austrian company, had the oddest airplane parentage.  Their entry into the small plane market started out as a motor glider.  Sometimes called self launch gliders, these very long winged, lightweight two seaters, are a staple of European general aviation.  The Dimona motorglider became the Katana, a two seat trainer and that morphed into the Diamondstar, the four seat fiberglass airplane that my brother owns.  By his lights the flights in the Katana, the Evolution and the Eclipse DV20s were our first forays into the air in a real airplane.  He never really considered buying a tin plane, and the Cirrus and Diamondstar were the composite front runners from the moment he realized he was as obsessed with flying as I am.  

One of the two seater Diamonds I have flown sitting on the ramp in Santa Paula

My brother and I learned to fly together.  It is really not a practical method for most folks, since it is hard to find a training partner, but boy did it make the whole experience a blast.  We took nearly every lesson together.  The airtime was split with one of us sitting in the back seat while the other flew. Watching the other guy make a set of mistakes was really educational and it was also a huge plus to get to go on a pleasure flight as a passenger a couple of times a week.  In any case, we finished flight training a few weeks apart and set a date to get checked out in a Katana at the Torrance airport for a  celebratory hop.  What started out as a planned trip to Big Bear became a ten airport hop to practice VOR skills.  We decided to split the flying duties, swapping PIC roles after every landing.  Since it was a pain to jump in and out on every landing my career as pilot in command from the right seat was under way. 

The transition from a metal plane designed in the 50’s to an all composite airplane designed in the 80’s was not difficult but it was a big adjustment.  The very first thing you notice walling up to the Katana is the very narrow cross section of the fuselage aft of the seats.  Wasp waisted about captures the way a two person canopy swelling necks down to a round section beam that can be encircled with one arm.  This would also be my first t-tailed airframe.  The horizontal stabilizer, usually set in the middle of the cross section of rear fuselage sits up on top of the vertical stabilizer.  The clearest effect of this t-tail configuration is that the elevators, which control the pitch of the airplane are not in the prop wash and so they are not affected by increasing or decreasing power.  Bringing back the throttle as you come in to land will not drop the nose nearly as much as it will with a conventional tail.  There is no doubt that the plane is also just flat out gorgeous.  Though small, it has the flowing lines and swoopy curves of an Italian sports care.  It looks fast tied up on the line waiting for us to unleash its 80 hp Rotax engine.

Did I mention some things are a little different than we are used to?  Well the first thing you do in the Katana is make sure it will not melt while you are out gallivanting.  This entails pulling back the seat padding to reveal a section of heat sensitive color that will change a ‘no go’ red when the composite heats above a certain point. The Katana is a low wing with a tilt up canopy so entry is similar to the Grumman American Yankee.  There is very little room behind the seats for luggage as the gas tank sits below what looks like an outsides hat shelf behind the pilot and co-pilot headrests.  After firing the engine up the gearing of the Rotax made me do a double take a few times since the redline on the engine was over 5,000 rpm, a solid 2300 rpm faster that the more familiar Continental and Lycoming power plants.  The nose wheel is castering, just like the Yankee and taxing is dead simple with differential braking.  Pushing the throttle foward it is immediately clear that this airplane dearly wants to be airborn.  That will prove to be the most challenging thing about it.  Every other plane I have flown is perfectly happy to stagger into the air, but the Katana hits aflyable airspeed quickly, then it is all you can do to hold it on the ground. 

Cruise flight and navigation is very straightforward, but on landing we discovered an interesting thing.  This son of a glider does not want to stop flying.  The wings are long and thin and the airframe is very light, and the whole fuselage is remarkably well streamlined.  This means that slowing down to land is non-trivial.  If you are spot on with your approach airspeed the beast will drop softly out of the air as you crank in the small bit of nose up that counts as a flare in this plane.  When you find yourself high on final in every other plane I have flown you have a poorly explained and not often recommended option.  You can point the nose down and start picking up speed while losing altitude.  Then, because the plane is usually pretty draggy just leveling out will scrub off the speed without gaining altitude.  This is a perfectly acceptable alternative to a slip in many airplanes though it can cause palpitations in your passengers so it is not often performed.  Try a similar trick in the Katana and you will find that the plane is so well streamlined that when you pull up from your little dive the plane will maintain most of the speed leaving  you way to hot to do anything other than a low pass at the runway.  It took a bit of practice to learn that the over the fence speed had a lot tighter tolerance than in does in the other trainers I have flown. 

The Rotax engine is not the only power plant for this plane and I have flown a total of four engine configurations.  They were all pretty good on gas, much better than the other two seaters I have flown and they were all remarkably quick (130 knots/156 mph) given the tiny engine.   The used market for these planes reflects the cool factor of the composite airframe, the high cruise speed and the often sophisticated electronics.  The asking price will be 3-10 times the price of a similar quality Cessna 150/152 and I suspect that it is the availability of these lovely airplanes that keeps a lid on the resale price of the 40 year old Cessna technology. 

#4 - DR400 - Porsche Robin

There is no way that a recently minted pilot with my level of enthusiasm should be allowed out of the country until the initial private pilot ticket is well and truly scuffed up.  It is just plain irresponsible. But, a couple weeks after the check ride I had to go get some data in Germany.  Before I even left I was looking for smaller airports in the Stuttgart area.  I began shamelessly emailing flying clubs asking if I might take a ride in one of their planes. I emailed several glider clubs and one motorflugzeug club. I had only one response, and it was from a very nice fellow who said that he would take me up on Saturday if I had time. I quickly returned to that club’s website and found they were flying a Bölkow and a Robin HR200. I had never heard of the Bölkow, but I knew the Robin to be a fabric and wood airplane of French design. From the photographs I assumed that the flying club was sponsored by Porsche, since the bright red Robin had a prominent Porsche stenciled on the bow.

At the appointed hour I waited outside the institute and Andreas arrived to take me to the airport. On the way he explained that Porsche was just getting out of the airplane engine business after making a hundred or so 911 engines airworthy. The plane we were flying was one of the few Porsche powered airplanes left and after this week it would get a conventional Lycoming power plant because Porsche wanted their hardware back. 

The distinctive bent up wingtips of the Robin DR400

When we arrived at Nabern the Robin was sitting in the sun seemingly covered in children. On closer inspection it was just two rapidly moving youngsters belonging to another club member, Gerd. Before I could go flying the Robin would be used to tow a glider up into the thermals off Teck. This area is one of the world famous glider spots, with yearly appearances in the aviation rags as a competition spot. A key piece of equipment was missing – the tow-line for dragging the spindly winged glider aloft. We all (Gerd, Andreas and I) hopped into the airplane for a short trip to Hahnweide where the line might have been stowed. It was a goose chase that not only gave me a great view of Teck but also introduced me to the concept of glider avoidance. They were hanging around the steep slopes of the Swabian Alps like a kettle of vultures. We dodged them on the way there and back and then Andreas and I headed to the Schloss Neuschwanstein.

Neuschwanstein is familiar to anyone who has seen the opening of a Disney movie since Walt copied the castle for his cartoons. It is a wonderfully ornate structure of white stone and blue roofs constructed by mad king Ludwig of Bavaria in the 1850’s. Though the castle was never finished the outside is perfect and the setting, in the steep crags of the foothills of the Alps, is unbelievable.

We flew right to the castle, a journey of some 50 minutes at 220 km/hr. The whole way Andreas and I plotted our position and talked about flying. I had the opportunity to fly the plane a bit on our way back. With the tailwind we were cranking along at 240 km/hr and the plane handled really nicely. I did not try any steep turns, but when we circled the castle Andreas had her right up on her right wing so I could get a look. It was a 60 degree bank and we lost no altitude. Closeness of the cliffs that surround the castle were a real incentive to keep the bank in.

We flew back to Nabern, a grass strip at the edge of the Swabian Alps and Andreas made a very nice landing. At some point during the pizza dinner we enjoyed at the airport Andreas mentioned that he had been taking English lessons with his wife every Monday for 8 years. The lessons surely worked because we had no difficulty in understanding each other. He went on to say that the only reason he emailed me back about flying was that his teacher insisted it was good homework. I was the first native English speaker with whom he had conversed.

Andreas wrote me that the Porsche engine is out of the plane and the Lycoming plan is dead. They will sell the DR400 and buy a new plane. It was a real treat to take the Porsche on its last flight and I hope the club gets a new plane soon because I am coming back to Germany in the spring.