First Solo Flight

The old maxim goes that we never forget our ‘firsts’ … whether first loves or first parachute jumps or first solo flights, the ‘firsts’ stay with us always.

I don’t have a picture of myself after my own first solo flight but I don’t need a picture to remember every minute of it or recall how it felt (a little burble of wind on the crosswind leg of my second touch and go was my decision point: To go on or not to go on. I kept going after a brief conversation with God and never looked back.)


Daughter Peyton was the first in the next generation to fly. She had a handicap – I was her instructor. It got so at one point that I had to put on an actual hat when I was the instructor. When the hat came off I was Daddy again. I learned from that – maybe it’s OK to solo your kid, but leave the rest of it to a third party. She made it through the Private Pilot license and enjoyed deflating egos by pulling out her certificate when the boys in the Auburn flight program were trying to impress her at parties with their student pilot prowess.

 

Son John was next. He soloed on his 16th birthday before he could drive a car. After a couple of trips around the flight pattern that morning, we went to the FAA medical examiner for his medical (which doubled as a student pilot license) and back home where he watched “Top Gun” a couple of times. Later in the afternoon when the wind died down we were back at the airport where he slipped the surly bonds of earth for his three takeoffs and landings. He went on to earn an Airline Transport Pilot certificate and now flies corporate jets all over the world.

Now it’s Grandson George’s turn. 42 years, almost to the day, after my own first solo. The way he approached it was a little different from the others … his instructor had signed him off for solo a couple of days before but he wanted to wait until his family could be there to watch. Peyton loved it. The Kamikaze headband adds a touch. Plans for the future? Who knows? The flying bug bites some of us deeper than others but the accomplishment remains forever an outstanding event in our lives.

So Long, Mr. Cub!

Hank, I sold the Cub you rebuilt after 2 years of easy, fun ownership. I did a few things to it; replaced the gascolator with a new Steve’s gascolator, replaced the old fuel shutoff valve with a new one after the old one began to leak, replaced a tube on one of the main landing gear tires, replaced the instrument panel with an authentic 1941 panel and three or four of the gauges with new ones, installed a new Sensenich wood prop, replaced the front seat canvas seat sling, broke in the engine properly and changed its oil regularly and generally kept the airplane hangared, clean and maintained during my tenure as its custodian. There were some other things but I don’t remember them right offhand – the airplane and engine never gave me a moment’s worry and even though it’s time to turn to other projects, I’m having to work a little to put this Cub out of my mind.

When Brad and I first talked I could tell he was going to be a good Cub Owner and, later on, when I met Jim, his Dad, over the phone I knew why. We kept in touch over a couple of months and when the time came to hand it over, Bill and Casey flew down to Florida with Charlie and I had to say goodbye to a good friend.

I told you all of this when I saw you last weekend, when I brought you the oil tank for a Continental engine after the Back Achers Fly-In. I know you said at the age of 91 you might be ready to get away from aviation … but I thought you’d like to see Bill and Casey waving goodbye as they left Bob White Field for South Carolina. Bill owned a Cub before and was right at home in it.

Good airplanes leave you with good memories, and this one was a good one. You did a good job on it.

Thanks, Hank …                        Happy Landings, Brad, Jim, Charlie, Bill and Casey ...

 

FSAACA Back Achers Fly-In 3-16-2013

Never a dull moment in Central Florida when FSAACA Flyers come to town (or country)

Our gracious hosts, the Fambroughs, open up their airfield and hangar, lay on a barbecue feast, and provide what can only be described as a perfect day for their FSAACA friends.

… and fly in we did:

Airplanes of all shapes, sizes and pedigrees:

It’s pretty easy to see that we’re a Cub/Champ/Stinson/Luscombe/etc bunch of people

Even an occasional Swift …

As always, it’s the great people who make our FSAACA Fly-Ins what they are, whether we’ve met before or not …

**Thanks to Florida Cub Flyer David for his pictures**

Next month, FSAACA will take a month off for the Sun-n-Fun Fly-In (April 9-14) at Lakeland

Our May Fly-In will be the 18th & 19th hosted by Jim and Pat Connell’s Wahoo Air Ranch (25FL).

Be There!

 

FSAACA Fly-Ins, 2013

I have seen the light. After years of exploring far reaching climes, I’ve come around to a fact I knew long ago: Florida is flying country. The reasons are many and varied, but chief among them is the weather accommodates flying all year round. The weather also alleviates aches and pains and there are a lot of folks with whom to compare those aches and pains, so that makes it doubly fun. Among those folks, some of whom are of a certain age, you can find former airline pilots, mechanics, machinists, farmers, and others who made their living making things work, so if you happen to find a gathering where multiple talents compliment your particular area of interest, you’re triply blessed.

I’ve just moved my airplanes from my original home town (as in place of birth on most government forms) to my adopted home area of Central Florida (from age 10) and my adopted home town of Tangerine, which as it happens was where my wife grew up. Actually the airplanes reside for now at Zellwood, which is right next door. Bob White Field is wide and long and covered with grass – and my airplanes and I like that a lot. The tenants at the airport are people who made their living making things work and who now enjoy flying far afield to sample cuisine that is best described as “good” at little airports that are mostly within striking distance in a day’s flying, there and back.

Enter FSAACA, The Florida Sport Aviation Antique and Classic Association and their schedule of flying events. I missed New Smyrna this year but went to Bushnell for a gathering and Twelve Oaks this weekend … I’m hoping to make all the fly-ins this year and plan to post videos or something from each one. Wish me luck. Here are looks at what I have so far:

 

More coming when available …

To Warmer Climes – Part Deux

It’s January and time to look South. The Callair is already there, now for the Cub.

When planning for a trip in a Piper Cub that will cover more than your local area, it’s a good idea to look at the weather prognostications for surface depictions and winds. In the case of my wishful trip from North Carolina to Florida, it’s especially nice when the forces of nature come together in such a way that there are possibilities of even the merest of tailwinds … in this case I was fortunate that the weather gurus were forecasting a high pressure area to the west of my route (clockwise motion) and a low pressure area to the east of my route (counter-clockwise motion) … a sure bet for tailwinds for Friday, January 18, 2013.

Oh, would that it were true.

As luck would have it, the rain fairies had drenched my airport in North Carolina (grass runway) in the days leading up to my carefully planned departure, making it akin to a very large lake. The good news there is the grass grows real green and the water usually drains past the beaver dams (protected by beaver-huggers, much to the chagrin of the airport) overnight. Old weather hands also know that the winds behind a cold front can be pretty brisk but that can be a benefit as those winds contribute to the recession of the water on the airport runways. My Friday tailwinds turned into overall headwinds on Saturday but the skies were fair and the usual bumpy air after the passage of a cold front had died down with the predominance of the stable, high-pressure area, so all in all I was pretty happy with the prospects.

Saturday, January 19th, dawned crystal clear. At 27 degrees the grass was frosty but the runway had dried and overnight lows in the 20s also firmed up the part of the Western North Carolina Air Museum runway that I’d be using.

One pull of the prop was all it took to bring the engine to life and I was up and on my way at about 8:45 a.m. Since the trip in the Callair was still fresh in my mind, I elected to use the same fuel stops and the same route I used in late November.

The first stop was Thomson GA – McDuffie County Airport – where I was met by the same lineman as my last trip, Jeremy. This is a local area airport that has some community support as evidenced by the modern Spirit Aviation facility and well-maintained runways and ramps. Fuel is self-service and the price, while high by car driver standards, was about average for Avgas. Flight time was 1:51 and the pause refreshed me quite a bit. The Cub and I were in the air a mere 20 minutes after we landed, which is pretty good. My turnarounds were quick all day and contributed mightily toward my having a nice cushion of daylight at the end of the trip.

My second stop after 1:48 flying time was at Hazelhurst GA where, again, I was met by local resident and airport denizen Ray Smith. Ray is a great guy. He has an antique airplane – an Ercoupe – that he’s restoring and is a former Cub owner himself. After fueling at their self-service island Ray let me settle into my seat before the excitement continued. One pull of the prop and I was on my way. I’m thinking this is a great engine – and a great airport.

Maybe this is a good time to explain something. I’m no daredevil and I don’t take a lot of chances, but there is a stretch of countryside in the Deep South that is universally respected by Southerners possessed of Good Sense and that must be traversed if you’re flying in more or less a straight line from Hazelhurst GA to Lake City FL: The Okeefenokee Swamp. There are legends about the place, stories about people going in and not coming out. Gators and snakes and all manner of creatures that position the unwary and unprepared human a bit lower on the food chain. Airplanes make noises over the Okeefenokee that they usually reserve for night and ocean crossings. I think they enjoy teasing pilots that way.

Having survived the Okeefenokee I made my last fuel/pit stop after a little over an hour and a half of flying at an airport that is greatly under-utilized: Lake City FL. It’s a former military facility, covers a lot of real estate, and its once-thriving aircraft maintenance and modification businesses have largely gone bye-bye. Ed met me (again, the same faces – I’m glad these guys still have a job) and fixed me right up with fuel for the last leg home. While I was there, a gaggle of Beechcraft T-34 airplanes landed and made their way to the ramp, flown by mostly former military pilots after a practice session for the airshow season. Wouldn’t you know it? The engine decided to balk – it took about 10 pulls on the prop while these airshow gods looked on in amusement before the dang thing started. I taxiied out without a second glance at their shiny airplanes and matching outfits, head held high. All they have to do is push a button, I have to develop a Working Relationship with my engine.

 

On to home and hearth. The last leg is interesting for me; I can see places that I’ve known from ground level and above for nearly 60 years. There are lakes and rivers I’ve fished, woods I’ve hunted and a few secret places where I wished I could run out of gas as a teenager on a date. There are newer features, of course, because one of the operative trends in Florida is “new” … new housing developments, new roads, a reasonably new-ish airport that attracts residents the likes of movie stars and their big airplanes. It’s not the Florida I knew, growing up, but in a paradoxical way, it’s still very much “coming home”.

I found myself at one point directly over the old Silver Springs AirPark (above, photos from 1964 and as it is today) where I used to listen to the tales of pilots from WWII. The airport is gone now, covered by a trailer park. Flying past Lake Weir and Johnson’s Beach, a favorite teen hangout, I could already see “my” lake, south of Mount Dora.

 

Home Airport: Bob White Field at Zellwood FL. Ignore the reference to Long and Scott Farms, it’s Pete Counsell’s place now and he keeps it up really nicely. The runway is wide and smooth and, of course, grass – just like it should be. The Callair is hangared in the middle of the middle and the Cub is, too. At some point, one of them will be disassembled and trucked to the workshop at home for restoration, which Pete describes as a real “Tar Baby”. If you have to ask why, drop me a note.

Overnight to Warmer Climes

A couple of days before, the Callair was in the process of having it’s annual inspection done. Keith and I pulled the panels, whipped out the tools, flashlights and grease gun and went to work on an airplane that had flown a grand total of maybe 4 hours since the last inspection. We agreed that more airplanes get worn out by unscrewing things and screwing them back on than by actual use – especially antique airplanes – but we soldiered on.

20 inspection covers per wing! The Sitka Spruce wood spars are fully uncovered and Keith checks the all-important paperwork for particular points of interest.

 

The Continental C-90-8 engine is the original engine that was installed in the airplane when it was built in 1952. This is rare enough these days, but it has recently been rebuilt to like-new specifications and purrs like a kitten.

The day before (later in the afternoon of the day before) the weather guessers finally came to the shared conclusion that Monday would be The Day and Tuesday would be OK if I got stuck somewhere south of Georgia, so the decision was cast in Jell-o to fly South on Monday. That led to some planning and general aforethought on topics as ranging as “what to take”, “how to get back for The Drive South with Ma and the Poodles”, and “can you take this or that with you? (answer: no)” … There was also the small matter of service for the airplane – oil for the engine, fuel for the engine (it’s always a lot about the engine), and so on. I thought I might make it off the ground by 10. It turned out to be 10:30, but in any case I privately thought anything after 9:30 meant a possible overnight stop, which happened. Therefore, the title “Overnight to Warmer Climes”.

I’m very happy – overjoyed, almost – that the airplane performed flawlessly. My only hitch came when I started the engine for the first time on that chilly morning in the mountains. My airplane does not have a self-commencer, also known as an electric starter … it is started by charming the genie who makes the engine run and pulling the propeller through by hand, also known as an “Armstrong” starter. It really helps to have someone either provide the strong arm while the pilot sits all comfy inside holding the brakes or, more often, stand in front of the tail to keep the airplane from bounding across hill and dale once the pilot coaxes the motor to life. Neither of those options were available, so I resorted to tying the tail down for the start. I picked a place where the ground rises a little, tied the tail to a corner post of the hangar, and old sparky fired right up. Once running smoothly and idled back to lope along in a kind of chug-chug rhythm, I untied the tail and climbed in, which is another topic altogether as I’m not exactly lithe and the cockpit is not exactly accessible to those who have enjoyed more than adequate nourishment.

Heart rate back to normal, the rest of the day could not have been more pleasant, except maybe that rear window which has an annoying habit of sliding forward in flight, opening a path for very chilly air to enter and blow right on the back of my neck.

The route I flew was the one I had picked weeks before: Hendersonville to Thomson GA to Hazelhurst GA to Lake City FL and then to Zellwood, the Callair’s new home. The stops were planned with 1.5 hour flights in between so the newly-overhauled engine and I could get to know each other. I could mention that the airplane’s fuel tank only holds 15 gallons of gas, allowing about 2.5 hours of flying until excessive air displaces the fuel in the tank, leading to fuel starvation, stopped prop and certain doom (or something like that). Happily, the engine’s fuel consumption averaged a little under 5 gallons per hour, which is pretty good for a 90 horsepower engine and better than I had planned. I like being fat on fuel.

Lake City departure by 4pm was the watchword for the day. I left there a little after 4:30, having decided to overnight at Ocala, a place with which I am very familiar. A few minutes spent with old friends, a good dinner and a comfy bed were welcome after a full day. The next morning after an equally good breakfast and some more chit chat at the airport the engine slaked its thirst with fresh fuel and a perfectly smooth half hour of flying ensued. I even made a passable landing at the new digs – Bob White Field at Zellwood, home of some marvelous wizards of steel tube, dope and fabric, antique airplanes (and antique pilots). The runway is grass (as God intended) and smooth as a table top, thanks to the efforts of owner, Pete Counsell. There will be lots of pictures, eventually, and – best of all -  adventure.

The dry statistics: 6.1 hours flying time, 27.9 gallons of avgas, 4 stops (one overnight), for a total enroute time without the overnight of 7.5 hours. Slightly better than the 10.5 hours it takes to drive but I can’t take the entourage in the airplane.

What goes around, comes around … an old pic from my 1961 military school yearbook complete with a smartass cadet (who could that be?) displaying a blacked-out version of what would, a few years later in the Hanoi Hilton, become known as the “Hawaiian Good Luck Sign”, and next to it the logo for the progenitor of the Callair S1A, the Interstate Cadet. 

The airplane is far more virtuous.

Ready for Takeoff!

‘Tis finally finished! The new instrument panel went in easily after a little trimming and filing and the Cub is ready to go! Thanks to Ken at Keystone Instruments, Clyde Smith, the “Cub Doctor” and Keith, my NC Cub guru for the hard part where the know-how makes all the difference.

When Keith and I did our leak checks the engine started on the second pull of the prop after a 4 month holiday and all was well ... post-maintenance flight soon.

Oh, lest we forget … this is the old panel. Quite a difference.

 

 

Happy Landings!

-alex

The Best Intentions …

It all began innocently enough …

The Cub's old tachometer tended to indicate the engine speed in a wandering, random fashion which, I suppose, could have been averaged out but I like to know how fast my engine is turning without having to do a lot of math. The solution? Spend a couple of hundred and get a new tach. Easy.

Trouble was, once the new tach came in, the old tach cable leading from the engine to the instrument and the new tach were not compatible. So I did what anybody would have done, I ordered a new tach cable. Since I have a Piper Cub and since the tach and cable interface requires a 90 degree fitting to clear the fuel tank, I ordered one of those, too. What’s a few dollars more to get what you want, right?

Trouble was, the new tach with the 90 degree fitting attached to it did not clear the fuel tank. I’m beginning to sense a trend here.

What to do? What to do?

Enter Clyde Smith, also known as “The Cub Doctor”. According to legend, Clyde was weaned on aviation gas and amassed his fortune working for Piper at the Lock Haven PA factory and later, after a flood, by restoring Piper airplanes and fabricating parts on some of Piper’s original tooling. Piper moved their manufacturing to Florida and Clyde stayed behind in PA. A phone call did the trick: Clyde told me the 1941 Cub did not require a 90 degree fitting because that year they positioned the tach further outboard on the instrument panel. Oh happy day. I could return the 90 degree fitting – a saving of just under $100 – and order a new panel from Clyde (who just happened to have a 1941 panel in stock and ready to ship!... for just under $100!!).

Trouble was, I got into the old panel and old instruments and found I also needed new oil pressure and oil temperature gauges. So I did what anybody would have done and called my new best friend Ken at Keystone Instruments, also at Lock Haven, and in a wink of an eye and flash of a Visa card, I had my gauges on the way. Oh, and while you’re at it, Ken, do you happen to have a non-sensitive altimeter to replace the old one with the cloudy face? The Visa card is taking a pounding at this point. I close my eyes and press on.

Trouble was, the new oil pressure and oil temperature gauges didn’t fit their holes in the new panel! They were 1/8 of an inch too small ! !  Thank goodness for my friend Carlton who is a first class machinist and who happens to haunt the Western North Carolina Air Museum. He looked around a little and produced some sheet aluminum, then fabricated collars for the instruments that would bring them up to a size to fit the holes in the panel. Whew! Thank goodness for good friends!

So the Cub sits in the hangar, panel-less, instrument-less, and getting a little grumpy because the World’s Ugliest Airplane is first in line to fly.

But there is hope.

Later in October, the leaves will be at their peak and the Cub and I will wing our way above their glorious colors, accurate in RPM, oil pressure, oil temperature, and altitude. We will look down and laugh, Ha Ha Ha, pointing our exhaust in their general direction.

I’d write more, but there’s somebody on the other line with a great deal on a bridge in Brooklyn.