More than anything else, it was my subscription to FLYING Magazine, beginning with the January 1955 issue, that created a thirst for additional knowledge and achievement. I was not alone. A lot of builders and dreamers were entering the private aviation industry in that era, helping transform it from a time of tube-and-rag taildraggers to sleek transportation aircraft.

In the mid-20th century, America was uniquely positioned for the creation of a modern noncommercial aviation system. There was a need for airplanes that could transport families and business people across the vast distances of North America, we had an airport of some sort in nearly every community, and our personal freedom and finances encouraged the utility of light aircraft. The inefficient war-surplus airplanes and vintage taildraggers leftover from the 1940s no longer sufficed. We were ready for easier-to-fly, purpose-built airplanes.

And experienced, visionary heads of aircraft companies were ready to provide them. As with the automotive industry, we had the Big Three—Beechcraft, Cessna, and Piper—plus eager-to-compete smaller companies like Aero Commander, Bellanca, Champion, Maule, and Mooney. As the 1960s arrived, new models and improved veteran designs showed up in the marketplace. Likewise, a new term, avionics, was coined, referring to a fresh crop of highly capable radios for our instrument panels, thanks to transistors and compact power supplies that shrank space requirements. 

• READ MORE: FLYING Magazine Announces 2025 Ultimate FLYING Giveaway

Powerplants also underwent development. Fuel injection and lightweight turbochargers were added to piston engines, small turbojets encouraged the concept of business jets, and new medium-horsepower turboprops filled the gap between 300 hp opposed recips and burly radials. By 1970, GA shoppers were able to buy anything from aerobatic two-seaters to pressurized, cabin-class twins. Available business aircraft ranged from turboprop executive airplanes to fanjet-powered corporate barges. Airports and airspace routings had been improved to accommodate GA’s growth. This laissez-faire ’60s atmosphere kept the industry’s engineering departments working overtime.

The declared goal during the frenetic ’60s and ’70s was to create “gap fillers.” Every company wanted to provide an airplane to suit every need and keep customers loyal to its brand. Piper had a fleet of Cherokee derivatives, from the 2+2 Cherokee 140, the everyday 180 and beefy 235, and the stretched Cherokee Six, leading to retractable Arrows and Lances, and even twin-engine Senecas and Seminoles. Piper’s earlier high-performance Comanche line was retained through 1972 in single and twin versions, with normal and turbocharged engines. And the company also offered heavier twins in various piston-engine Navajo and turboprop Cheyenne models, all while still building the venerable Aztec twin—not to mention the agricultural Pawnee airplanes and an occasional Super Cub.

Beech Aircraft also tried to fill every gap in the market with a Beechcraft. It expanded its line  downward from the three Bonanza models with a lighter Musketeer series, offered in trainer, cruiser, and retractable variants, and it even fielded a light-twin Duchess, all the while offering Baron twins in as many as five styles, plus the sexy Duke and cabin-class Queen Airs. Meanwhile, Beech’s King Air turboprop line grew longer and more capable, even leading into commuter-airliner variations. To round out its offerings, Beech acquired upscale business jets from Hawker and Mitsubishi. 

Cessna, meanwhile, outdid everyone, developing model after model to plug any sales leak in its line. At one time in the ’70s, I counted 22 singles and 13 twins among its offerings, in addition to the burgeoning Citation business jet lineup. Whatever you needed, from two-place trainer to pressurized single, from push-pull “safe twin” to back-door executive twin, agricultural airplanes and bushplanes, Cessna had them all. There seemed to be no end to the swelling Cessna tide, which amounted to 50 percent of the industry’s unit output during the boom times.

At the same time, little Mooney expanded its basic M20 retractable into longer and more powerful models, Rockwell developed single-engine and ag planes to supplement its piston and turboprop twin-engine line, Bellanca/Champion offered a half-dozen two-seat tailwheel airplanes to compliment its Viking retractables, Grumman was making two- and four-seat airplanes plus a twin-engine model, and Maule tweaked and stretched every possible variation from its tailwheel utility aircraft. 

Present Day Flying

Today, we are still enjoying the fruits of these developments in the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s.

Refurbished examples of the golden age general aviation airplanes sell for many multiples of their original sticker price, while the limited-production, new single-engine airplanes are astronomically unaffordable. The promised introduction of “light sport” airplanes that would provide economical new aircraft hasn’t worked out. They are priced at about twice the expected figure and often don’t have sufficient payload to accommodate two adults plus full fuel. 

A serious implosion in light airplane production took place during the mid-’80s, closing many production lines and shrinking the supply of available models. This was due to an oversupply of airplanes during economic malaise, coupled with the growth of rapacious product liability lawsuits and concurrent manufacturer insurance costs. Most of GA’s growth shifted into big-ticket aircraft such as turbine-powered business airplanes, utility and owner-flown, single-engine turboprops, and fast-glass, piston-engine singles.

As the new millennium arrived, Cirrus Design brought not only a new sleek composite-construction personal airplane but a fresh approach to marketing it. With its integral emergency parachute, side-stick control, video-screen, GPS-based avionics and automotive interior styling, the Cirrus SR series appealed to a new generation of entrants to GA. The company quickly filled a void abandoned by the traditional airplane companies that had been acquired by corporate conglomerates that were more interested in selling big-ticket business aircraft than entry-level models. 

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The real revolution now stems from the utility gained by effortless navigation provided by GPS data flowing into advanced computing capability, so that panel-mounted displays can not only show current position but flight plan routing, all linked to advanced autopilot technology taking care of most cross-country piloting chores. With uplinked, in-cockpit weather integrated into tablet-based “electronic flight bags” or the avionics suite, there’s no longer any excuse for pressing on into unflyable conditions lurking over the horizon. 

Retrofitting this advanced technology into legacy aircraft is simply a matter of allocating enough money to make the airplane useful. The ADS-B mandate of 2020 has given more flexibility to ATC handling of any size of aircraft—at the cost of privacy and freedom. Yes, we deal with a multitude of airspace rules and restrictions, but we had to negotiate many of those same encroachments in the late 20th century, and with less computing power in the cockpit back then to help us avoid them. 

Airport infrastructure has shifted away from providing accommodations for all comers to building for the biggest user, leaving light general aviation to occupy the corners of the ramp or a remote edge of the airport. Stand-alone, family-operated FBOs have been replaced by chains of opulent palaces catering to the jet set. We can expect to pay for what used to be free services, because our minuscule fuel business is no longer important enough to be willingly subsidized by the big iron customers. 

Expectations are greater in the 21st century—in all aspects of life, not just GA. New entrants to flying expect seamless air conditioning, push-button actuations, plush accommodations, and high levels of service, compared with their more-tolerant parents and grandparents. If passengers can’t have Wi-Fi on board, they don’t want to ride with us. Privileges have their price, reflected in million-dollar sticker prices on new limited-production piston singles and multiple millions for personal turboprops. 

At least we still have options, even though we may have more money tied up in our instrument panel than a first-class traveling airplane cost back in the late 1900s. We’ve lost many airports to housing and industrial developments, but many remain, still giving access to communities via general aviation, providing transportation and utility possible in no other way. 

Flying’s Future

The future, from my jaded perspective, will be different, perhaps not to the tastes of my generation but still suitable and rewarding to those who’ll be doing most of the GA flying.

Accommodations might have to be made for the hyper-promoted electric urban air mobility (UAM) vehicles, manned and unmanned, in various stages of development for a market that may or may not exist. If airspace, bases, and routes have to be carved out for these anticipated thousands of mass-transit conveyances, we may see some disruption of traditional air traffic.

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The big unknown is the impact of governmental and public policy interference on a limited-participation activity like general aviation. Regardless of the facts, the loudest voices get the most attention at law-making levels, and well-meaning but shortsighted regulation can wind up stifling the freedom of flight enjoyed by private citizens. We must continue to support our GA membership organizations, and these associations must link arms with other interests, such as business aviation, helicopter operators, agricultural aviation, flight training, avionics shops, and FBOs, to ward off possible restrictions and bad laws stemming from class-envy and special-interest rhetoric targeting the industry.

I remain eternally optimistic about aviation, because I’ve always observed humankind’s innate desire to fly. From the days of the earliest prehistoric human watching soaring birds, there’s always been something urging us to look skyward, yearning to share the perspective of height. People will always want to fly, and once having tasted the freedom of personal wings, it is difficult to give it up. It behooves us to share flight with as many of our friends and acquaintances as possible, building a coalition to preserve what we’ve been given. 

A love of flying, like all passions, has to be given away if it is to be continuously circulated back to the conferrer.

This feature first appeared in the Summer 2024 Ultimate Issue print edition.

The post Ultimate Issue: The State of U.S. General Aviation appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

This is the 100th installment of The New Owner, and I suppose it’s only natural that the milestone is occurring amid a maniacal blend of emotions swirling around said ownership.

On one hand, EAA AirVenture in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, is next week (July 22-28), so there’s massive excitement for epic times just ahead. On the other hand, some maintenance issues have arisen over the past couple of weeks that create severe trepidation and directly threaten those amazing times.

It’s a perfect representation of aircraft ownership as a whole. Amazing experiences put at risk of derailment from unforeseen circumstances, fighting back and forth like so many Hollywood heroes and villains. But instead of the villains threatening the powers of good with swords, guns, and death rays, the threats come in the form of grounded airplanes and massive repair bills.

Frankly, I’d prefer to take my chances with the guns and death rays.

• READ MORE: Airplane Types Unlock AirVenture Locations for Parking, Camping

The first sign that something was amiss came several days ago in the form of engine oil. More specifically, a few extra drops on the hangar floor, slightly higher consumption than normal, and a new sheen collecting on the bottom of the engine. It wasn’t that my Continental engine was leaking oil. That’s pretty typical for most old Continentals. It was that mine was quite suddenly leaking in new places, at higher volumes, much differently than normal.

At any other time of year, it would be a simple matter of postponing future flights and booking some time with my mechanic. But this was Oshkosh month, a time when the severity of any mechanical problems increases exponentially as the date of the magnificent fly-in nears. And being that the big event was only a couple of weeks away at this point, panic quickly set in.

I immediately texted my mechanic, Ryan. He’s a great guy who embodies rural Wisconsin friendliness and honesty. He’s the kind of person who will bend over backward to help you and happily provide educational lessons about the tasks he’s performing along the way. He and his brother own and operate Johnson Brothers Flying Service in Lone Rock, Wisconsin, about 40 miles west of Madison.

While I was waiting for his reply, I examined my engine. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of the oil, but I suspected my Continental C-145 was experiencing weepy pushrod seals. This is a known issue with the type, as well as with the later version, the O-300.

I’ve always been amused at the engine’s midproduction name change from C-145 to O-300. Continental evidently figured that referring to the engine by the displacement (300 cubic inches) made it sound more powerful and impressive than referring to it by the 145 hp it produces. Marketing 101, I suppose.

Ryan replied that he would try to make it out sometime during the week before my departure to Oshkosh. But because he was so busy, he couldn’t guarantee it. I’d just have to wait and hope. In the meantime, I opted to remove my upper and lower cowls for a closer inspection.

To someone like me with close to zero mechanical aptitude, dismantling your airplane’s upper and lower cowls to reveal an entirely naked engine is simultaneously empowering and intimidating.

In one respect, it makes you feel like you know what you’re doing. Anyone walking past the open hangar door would naturally assume you possess some rudimentary level of knowledge and proficiency. But in another respect, you’re pretty sure you’re fooling nobody.

For the purposes of an engine inspection, however, it worked out just fine, and I was able to trace the leak to the oil temperature probe on the back of the engine accessory case. I forwarded this intel to Ryan.

The next afternoon, I received a text from him. Unbeknownst to me, he made it out to my plane and addressed the leak. I was ecstatic and headed right out to the airport for a shakedown flight prior to my trip up to Oshkosh.

Sure enough, the oil leak appeared to be taken care of. I preflighted the airplane, pulled it out of the hangar, and hopped in—only to discover that the throttle was inexplicably encountering some kind of blockage halfway into its travel.

Thinking that a running engine might somehow solve the problem, I started it up but found that nothing had changed. The throttle knob would only advance about halfway to full throttle before encountering a hard stop.

Now, things were getting serious. It was a Friday evening, less than a week before my planned departure to Oshkosh. Ryan was busy and wouldn’t be able to chat until Sunday or Monday. Desperate not to miss the big event, I gave my friend Dan a call.

“Hey, man, have you sold your Ercoupe yet?” Dan replied that he had not. “And you’re not going to make it to Oshkosh this year, right?” “That’s right,” he replied. “We’ll be in Michigan all week.”

• READ MORE: Flying In to AirVenture: A Carefully Orchestrated Cacophony of Chaos

He knew I was angling for something, so I explained.

“I’m dealing with some mechanical issues on the 170, and I’m not sure if it’ll be fixed in time for Oshkosh,” I said. “If it’s not, how about I take the Ercoupe up and hang some of those big ‘for-sale’ signs on the prop so a half million people see it?”

After considering this for a moment, Dan agreed that it would be a win-win sort of situation.

With a backup plan firmly in place, Saturday came and went. On Sunday morning, I received a text from Ryan. He was available to zip out to the hangar and have a look at my throttle issue.

The fix took him all of about five minutes. He explained that he must have inadvertently dislodged part of the throttle cable while inspecting something else during the oil leak work. He assured me it wasn’t likely to occur again and said he’d be entirely comfortable flying it. He also said that because it was his fault, he wouldn’t be charging me for the trip out. I gave him a 100-dollar bill anyway to show my appreciation.

At the time of this writing, I have just about everything packed up. My tent, sleeping bag, cooler, chairs, underwing party lights, and coffee supplies are ready to go. This afternoon, I’ll fly a shakedown flight to check for any errant oil leaks and confirm all is in order. With any luck, I’ll be flying my own plane up to Oshkosh tomorrow and, much as I sincerely appreciate Dan’s offer, hopefully not an Ercoupe.

If you wonderful readers will also be at Oshkosh next week, please come find me. I plan to be somewhere around Row No. 67, right up on the airshow crowd line. I’d like to thank you in person for your readership and support over the past few years and give you a sticker or two.

Just look for the blue 170 with Alaskan Bushwheel tires. Or, depending on how things go, a classy little Ercoupe.

The post When Unforeseen Circumstances Threaten to Derail Amazing Experiences appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I looked off the extended centerline hoping to see the landing light of the twin. No joy. The skies were hazy due to forest fire smoke, and the light was flat because it was late afternoon and, frankly, it was difficult to see anything.

The C-172 pilot reduced engine power and configured the aircraft for a descent. Normal procedures called for losing 200 to 300 feet of altitude then turning base when the runway was at a 45-degree angle to the aircraft.

“Do you see the twin?” I asked, because I still didn’t have a visual. 

“Nope,” the pilot said, stopping the descent. “I’m not turning base until I see him. I’m not going to do a Watsonville.”  

• READ MORE: Avoiding Mid-Airs: Safety in the Practice Area

We continued on an extended downwind for another 10 seconds, then the pilot of the C-172 decided to break off the approach and depart to the west. He told me he planned to reenter on the 45. As he rolled wings level to the west, we finally saw the twin—on short final. 

Watsonville

“Watsonville” refers to an August 2022 midair collision between a Cessna 152 and a Cessna 340A at Watsonville Municipal Airport (KWVI) in California. Three people and a dog were killed.

The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) released the final report on the accident earlier this year. All accident reports present an opportunity to learn. What I learned from this one is that in aviation you can be doing everything right, but if someone else does something wrong, you can still get hurt. 

Deconstructing Watsonville

According to the NTSB, on August 18, 2022, around 3 p.m. PDT the pilot of the C-152 was in the pattern for Runway 20 as the pilot of the C-340A was attempting a straight in. It was a VFR day. Both pilots were communicating on the common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF).

The pilot of the C-152 was flying in the traffic pattern of the nontowered airport and making position reports on the airport’s CTAF. The pilot of the twin made an initial radio call 10 miles from the airport announcing his intentions to perform a straight approach for Runway 20. The pilot of the C-152 was flying the pattern for Runway 20. He made position reports as he turned on each leg of the pattern—as a well-trained pilot does. 

I listened to the  recordings of the CTAF on LiveATC.com after the event. The C-152 pilot’s radio calls were concise and informative.

Just after the pilot of the twin reported a 3-mile final, the pilot of the C-152 announced he was turning left base for Runway 20. Around 19 seconds later, the twin pilot reported that he was a mile from the airport. The last transmission of the C-152 pilot noted how quickly the larger airplane was coming up behind him and announced he was going around. 

The Cessna twin hit the C-152 from behind. The aircraft collided less than a mile from the runway at an altitude of approximately 150 feet above ground. There were several witnesses on the ground, and the collision was caught on security cameras near the airport.

The Aftermath

Investigators using ADS-B data determined the twin was at a ground speed of 180 knots, more than twice that of the C-152 on approach and considerably faster than the normal C-340A approach speed of 120 knots. 

The examination of the wreckage revealed the twin’s wing flaps and landing gear were both retracted at the time of the collision, which is consistent with the pilot’s failure to configure the airplane for landing. Normal flap extension speed for the C-340A is 160 knots, and the landing gear extension is 140 knots. Investigators noted that the faster speed reduced the pilot’s time to see the smaller aircraft. 

Witnesses on the ground reported the twin veered to the right at the last second, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the smaller, slower aircraft.

The NTSB determined the probable cause of the accident to be “the failure of the pilot of the multiengine airplane to see and avoid the single-engine airplane while performing a straight-in approach for landing.”

Applying Lessons at Home

That Watsonville accident was talked about for weeks at my home airport as there are a few light twins based there. These airplanes often do straight-in approaches, or fly the RNAV 35 in VFR conditions. It is legal for them to do so. 

One of the lessons I impart is for the learners to pay attention to the make of aircraft as well as their distance from the runway during position reports. “Cessna twin” tells me that it is faster and larger than the Cessna 100 series aircraft I normally fly. Conversely, if I hear “yellow Cub,” I know to keep looking for slower traffic.

Right of Way

Clearing the area before you turn is one of the first lessons a pilot learns. It is the aviation version of look before you cross the street.

One of my best learners, an Army helicopter pilot going for her fixed wing add-on, had this down cold. She was used to flying in a multicrewed environment so she would say, “Look left, clearing left, coming left,” then make the turn. If there was another aircraft, she’d announce, “Not clear to the left, not sure if he sees me,” then she would turn to avoid the other aircraft, often taking us in the opposite direction or changing altitude. This was even if we technically had the right of way, per FAR 91.113.

FAR 91.113 states: “When weather conditions permit, regardless of whether an operation is conducted under instrument flight rules or visual flight rules, vigilance shall be maintained by each person operating an aircraft so as to see and avoid other aircraft.” It is difficult to avoid the other aircraft if you don’t see them—and don’t count on ADS-B as a crutch, as some aircraft are not equipped with it. You still need to keep your eyes outside.

The details of FAR 91.113 state which aircraft have right-of-way over others. Basically, the least maneuverable, such as a glider (no engine for go-around) or airship (those things are slow), have the right of way over an airplane, unless the airplane is being towed, refueled, or is in distress. 

FAR 91.113 also states that the aircraft being overtaken has the right of way—as the C-152 did in Watsonville. But the rules don’t help if the pilot of the other aircraft doesn’t see you. 

Instead of potentially putting yourself in front of a faster, larger aircraft, take precautionary evasive action, even if you do technically have the right of way. There are a lot of rights worth dying for. Right of way is not one of them.

The post Remembering Right of Way and Steering Clear of a ‘Watsonville’ appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The NTSB released its final report into the fatal April 2022 accident that occurred when the pilot was on approach to Burley Municipal Airport (KBYI). The aircraft collided with an exhaust stack that lies directly beneath the extended centerline of Runway 20. The accident happened shortly after 8:30 a.m. when it was snowing and IFR conditions prevailed.

According to the NTSB, the aircraft struck an agglomerate stack that measured 32 inches in diameter. Just beyond it was a group of six exhaust stacks. The smokestack, which is used to collect particulate emissions from the manufacturing process, is 100 feet above ground level.

According to the 24-page NTSB report, the FAA had been advised of the stacks as a potential hazard to aircraft in 2016 and had been working with the plant owner on mitigation measures. Those measures included decommissioning of the airport’s visual approach slope indicator (VASI), painting the exhaust stacks white and aviation orange to make them more visible, and adding an obstruction lighting on the tallest stack.

However, photographs of the stacks provided to the NTSB reveal no such paint scheme. 

In its 24-page final report, NTSB said its investigators, who did not travel to the accident site, could not determine if the obstruction light on the tallest exhaust stack was functioning at the time of the accident, as it was allegedly stolen from the scene by an individual who was not part of the official instigation. 

According to the NTSB report, this individual later appeared in a YouTube video with the light and discussed its use during the accident sequence. The video was shot in the individual’s home office several states away.

The local police department investigated the theft, which included reviewing the YouTube video. A copy of the YouTube video has been included in the public documents of the NTSB report. The NTSB states the YouTube individual later recanted his statements, saying the light he appeared on camera with was not the one from the crash site.

Accident Details

At the time of the accident, the Caravan pilot held a commercial certificate, had approximately 1,400 hours total time, and had been flying for less than six months for Gem Air LLC. As is protocol during an accident investigation, the NTSB reviewed the company’s training procedures.

According to the chief pilot of Gem Air, the company’s pilots were taught to use the Garmin vertical flight path indicator as an “advisory guidance” and to use the autopilot on nonprecision approaches both in VNAV and Approach mode. 

Company flight records indicated the pilot had flown to KBYI at least 12 times before the accident.

The accident happened as the pilot was attempting to fly the RNAV 20 approach, which takes the aircraft directly over the potato processing plant with numerous vent stacks constantly in operation.

The standard for airspeed after passing the final approach fix was 120 kias indicated, according to the Flight Maneuvers Description Manual (FMDM).

The FMDM also stated that “after passing the final approach fix inbound, begin descent to MDA or step-down fix, if applicable. Descent should be approximately 1,000 fpm [feet per minute] to ensure that you are at the next required altitude. Failure to make the descent to MDA in a timely manner may result in missing the opportunity to visually identify the airport in time to continue a normal descent to landing.”

The standard approach gradient for an instrument approach is 3.0 degrees. The approach plate for the RNAV 20 at KBYI notes the descent angle for the approach is 3.75 degrees. Pilots are taught that an approach gradient of more than 3.0 degrees is a good indication that there is an obstacle to avoid on the approach path. The Chart Supplement Directory for the airport noted this, using “stack” in the airport descriptor.

The steep gradient is also noted on the RNAV 20 approach plate.

The Aeronautical Information Manual warns pilots about the dangers of exhaust plumes both visible and invisible, as they can contribute to turbulence, wind shear, and reduced visibility. Pilots are advised to avoid flying over them.

Failure to Maintain Altitude

A security camera photograph showed the Caravan in a slightly nose-up attitude as it passed over the plant. A witness on the ground told NTSB investigators that the sound of the aircraft engine increased just moments before it collided with the exhaust stack.

The pilot failed to maintain altitude during an instrument approach, “which resulted in a descent below the approach path and impact with a vent stack,” the NTSB said in its conclusion determining the probable cause of the accident. “Also causal was the failure of the processing plant to correctly paint the vent stacks, which had been determined by the FAA to be a hazard to navigation due to their proximity to the landing approach path. Contributing to the accident was the likely distraction/illusion/obscuration created by steam from the processing plant, which intermittently obscured the runway.”

The post NTSB: Pilot Was Flying Too Low Before Hitting Smokestack in Idaho appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

This is something I see fairly regularly, albeit more commonly in reference to more basic and affordable types. A prospective buyer polls a general audience for specific advice about a major purchase, and the replies are both predictable and suspect. All too common is the warning that parts for anything other than Cessna, Piper, or Beechcraft are impossible to find. While certain aircraft (and engines) do indeed present some difficulty with regard to parts availability, the vast majority are entirely possible to own and operate without too much trouble.

There are far better ways to become informed about a given aircraft type, and my favorite, by far, is type clubs.

• READ MORE: Going to the Birds, And How Not To

For a nominal fee, one can purchase an annual membership to a type club and instantly gain access to a treasure trove of virtually any mass-produced type out there. Good clubs offer online libraries chock full of scanned documents, manuals, diagrams, and literature. Additionally, many club websites are home to online forums with comprehensive prepurchase inspection checklists, airworthiness directive (AD) lists, and firsthand knowledge crowdsourced from current and former owners. Best of all, membership is almost always made available to shoppers who aren’t yet owners, offering an extremely affordable education about a type under consideration. 

As someone who creates spreadsheets and compiles detailed documentation for purchases as minor as a toaster, I joined The International Cessna 170 Association early in my shopping process, years before actually purchasing one. I spent hours soaking up as much info as I could about the type. Of particular note was a pinned thread in its forum that listed approximately 30-40 items to address immediately upon purchasing a 170. The list was detailed, and the reasoning behind each item was provided.

When I finally bought a 170 and dropped it off for its first annual inspection, I presented that list to my mechanic. Before long, he completed approximately a dozen various mods, many of which I’d never have discovered without entering the 170 community. I learned that the parking brake has a history of becoming partially engaged after a rudder pedal is pushed to the stop during crosswind landings or taxiing, and we followed the advice to disconnect it entirely. We proactively replaced the tailwheel leaf springs and old copper oil pressure gauge lines. I also had him perform multiple specific inspections that weren’t called out in any manufacturer materials.

• READ MORE: When It’s Better to Have It and Not Need It

Without question, my $45 annual membership had just paid for itself, and I hadn’t even tapped into any of the scanned documentation. Neither had I posted many of my own questions in the forum or engaged with any of the all-knowing 170 owners and their decades of experience maintaining the type. With such informed and helpful people at my disposal, happy to help tackle problems and lend their expertise, this membership is one that I don’t think twice about renewing.

Type clubs like this are also an excellent source of events. Many hold refresher and currency clinics aimed at sharpening the skills of the owner group as a whole. Some even negotiate special rates with insurance companies for owners who have demonstrated an ongoing effort to undergo recurrent training. And even if a club hasn’t arranged for formal discounts, I’ve spoken with one insurance broker who acts as an owner advocate, presenting underwriters with proof of such training and negotiating lower rates as a result.

Other clubs do an excellent job with social events. At face value, many of them appear to be little more than excuses to devour vast amounts of cheeseburgers and ice cream. But if such temptations are what it takes to motivate owners to preflight their airplanes and get into the air regularly, well, that’s good for airplane and pilot alike.

It’s possible rare types benefit the most from a vibrant, active type club or owner’s association. The Meyers Aircraft Owners Association is a textbook example. With a small fleet size to begin with, airframe parts can occasionally become difficult to source. So when the original factory jigs and tooling were located by a Meyers owner, he purchased everything and stored it all in a secure location for preservation. Due to his efforts, the entire Meyers community will be able to source brand-new airframe parts if and when they are required. 

• READ MORE: 5 Things I Wish I Had Known Before Buying My First Airplane

To determine whether your type has a corresponding club, simply Google your aircraft  along with the words “club” or “association,” and you’ll likely find any that exist. Additionally, the EAA Vintage Aircraft Association maintains an excellent list of type clubs.

Finally, if your time and workload permit, consider getting involved and giving back to your community of owners. Help to organize a fly-out or two during the summer. Contribute some of your newfound knowledge in the forums. And lend a helping hand to others who are navigating the steep learning curve of ownership for the first time. 

The post Navigating the Aircraft Ownership Learning Curve Through Type Clubs appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In a news release from Sun ‘n Fun Aerospace Expo 2024, the company said the T182—like the 172, 206 and T206— has received interior facelifts and the first deliveries of the aircraft have occurred. Production of the T182 was paused in 2013 and Textron announced its revival in 2022.

“Textron Aviation’s investment in the Cessna piston aircraft lineup demonstrates the company’s continued enthusiasm and support for pilots worldwide, whether they are pursuing training ambitions or planning their next adventure,” the company said.

• READ MORE: Cessna Turbo Skylane

The upgrades announced include new seats, power headset jacks at every seat, A and C USB charging ports at every seat, along with side and cell phone pockets throughout the aircraft. There is also integrated overhead air conditioning on aircraft with that option and a new center armrest available on certain models.

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared on AVweb.

The post Textron Revives T182, Announces Upgrades appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

“We couldn’t be more thrilled to announce this acquisition of Cessna Skyhawks, which marks a significant milestone in our commitment to providing top-tier aviation education,” said Matthew Johnston, president of CAU. “These new aircraft will help elevate our flight training degree programs, ensuring our students receive the best possible learning experience and preparing them for successful careers in the aviation industry.”

• READ MORE: Cessna 172 Skyhawk Avionics

According to school officials, the aircraft will be utilized at their locations in Bakersfield, San Diego, and Ventura, California, as well as in Mesa, Arizona.

The new aircraft will add to CAU’s current fleet of Skyhawks and Beechcraft Barons. School officials say the flight program continues to grow, and the aircraft are necessary to help maintain an “optimal student-to-aircraft ratio at the university.”

Backbone of Training Fleet

Designed in the 1950s, the Cessna Skyhawk, also known as the C-172, has been the backbone of the training fleet for more than 60 years. It’s difficult, almost impossible, to find a pilot who hasn’t logged time in a Skyhawk. The design began with a round-dial panel, manual flaps, and straight tail. Today it features the shark-fin tail and a full-glass panel sporting Garmin G1000 NXi avionics with wireless connectivity, standard angle-of-attack display system, and proven dependability. The aircraft is equipped with a McCauley aluminum fixed-pitch propeller and a 180 hp Lycoming IO-360-L2A engine.

• READ MORE: ATP Flight School to Add 40 Cessna Skyhawks to Training Fleet

According to Textron, more than 45,000 Skyhawks have been delivered around the world.

“For more than six decades, the Skyhawk has been at the forefront of innovation, empowering aspiring pilots and setting new standards in flight training,” said Chris Crow, vice president of Textron Aviation piston sales. “We are delighted to continue inspiring the journey of flight by providing California Aeronautical University students access to the most-produced, single-engine aircraft globally.”

The post California Aeronautical University Expands Training Fleet With Skyhawk Buy appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In contrast, all light sport aircraft (LSA), experimental amateur-built airplanes, and warbirds are issued special certificates. In my view, the rule can be divided into two main parts: airplane descriptions and capabilities, and pilot certificates, technician privileges, and operating limitations. In short, airplanes or people.

For airplanes, the NPRM (Notice of Proposed Rulemaking) felt like Christmas in July, granting many capabilities industry and pilot member organizations had sought over some years of negotiation. The people part describes who gets to fly and maintain these MOSAIC LSAs and under what rules. This latter section inspired greater concern.

Airplanes: What We Gained

Here’s the list of what FAA offered and how each changed:

Gross weight: LSAs have been limited to 1,320 pounds (land) or 1,430 pounds (water). Under MOSAIC, the weight limit is removed and clean stall constrains size so the aircraft remains what FAA sought: those “easy to fly, operate, and maintain.” It is expected that weight can rise to 3,000 pounds depending on the design.

Stall speed: Presently, LSAs cannot stall faster than 45 knots. This will be raised 20 percent to 54 knots, but this is clean stall, the purpose of which is to limit aircraft size and difficulty. It has no relation to landing speed or slow-flight qualities. This more than doubled the potential size, hence a new term, “MOSAIC LSA.”

Four seats: LSAs are presently limited by definition to two seats. This rises to four in a MOSAIC LSA, but if operated by someone using sport pilot certificate privileges, then only one passenger can be carried. A private certificate with medical may fill all four seats, assuming weight and balance allows.

Retractable gear: Light sport aircraft have been fixed gear only, except for amphibious models. Now any MOSAIC LSA can be retractable. Several imported LSAs already offer retractable options in other countries.

Adjustable prop: LSAs were allowed only ground-adjustable props. Now a MOSAIC LSA can have an in-flight adjustable prop. Such equipment on similar aircraft is common in other countries.

250 knot max speed: An LSA was limited by definition to 120 knots at full power. Now the speed limit matches all other aircraft below 10,000 feet: 250 knots. No one expected such a large expansion, but now retractable and adjustable props make more sense.

Rotary expansion: After 20 years of waiting, fully built gyroplanes will be allowed. That followed years of advocacy effort, but when the opposition finally yielded, the FAA also granted helicopters.

Electric or hybrid: Because the FAA did not want turbine LSAs in 2004, it specified reciprocating engines, unintentionally knocking out electric motors that few were considering at the time. In fixing the definition to allow electric, the agency will also permit hybrids. Examples are already flying in Europe.

Turbine: Perhaps turbine engines were harder to operate 20 years ago when LSA were defined, but today they are seen as simpler, and the FAA will allow them. Turbine-powered MOSAIC LSA candidates are already flying in Europe.

Multiple engines/motors: The LSA has been limited to a single engine by definition. That constraint is removed, although no language was given to address how the pilot qualifies.

Aerial work: The Light Aircraft Manufacturers Association (LAMA) lobbied for MOSAIC LSAs to be permitted to do forms of aerial work, although not passenger or cargo hauling. The FAA has granted this opportunity to the manufacturers, which can specify what operations they will permit. A commercial pilot certificate will be required.

One downside to all these goodies? Each will increase the price. The good news? Present-day LSAs offer lower prices and have proven enjoyable and dependable. Many LSAs are fine as they are and have no need to change.

A lot of LSA producers already meet higher weights in other countries where permitted. They are merely reduced on paper to meet U.S. standards. It should be straightforward for them to redeclare meeting all MOSAIC-level ASTM standards to qualify for higher weights.

The only question is how far backward compatible they can go for aircraft in the field over which they have had no control for some time. It’s an industry question to resolve, and it will swiftly be handled to aid sales.

People and Areas of Concern

Medicals: Lots of questions surround one of the principal benefits of LSA operation: the lack of requirement for an aviation medical if operating as a sport pilot. More specifically, pilots want to fly larger aircraft using these privileges, meaning no medical certificate, or BasicMed, instead using the driver’s license as evidence of their medical fitness.

To keep within their budget, many pilots wish to buy (or keep flying) legacy GA aircraft such as the Cessna 150, 172, 177, and some 182s, plus certain Pipers, Diamonds, Champions, or other brands. Many of the latter aircraft are too heavy to allow such privilege today. MOSAIC appears to change that, but without presenting compelling evidence that possession of a medical assures a flight proceeds safely, the FAA nonetheless clings to this premise. Many assert the occurrence of medical problems sufficient to upset a flight or cause an accident are incredibly small in number.

Stall speed: Most NPRM readers agree that it was a worthy solution to use 54 knots clean stall as a means to limit the size of the airplane and to keep it within the FAA’s mantra of LSAs being “easy to fly, operate, and maintain.”

However, many respondents note that adding just a couple knots to that limit will allow several more airplanes that some wish to buy and fly under MOSAIC rules. Note that the 54-knot reference is not related to landing speeds or slow flight, where lift-enhancing devices like flaps would normally be used.

Some pilots asked if adding vortex generators could reduce stall speed enough to qualify. The problem lies in proving a slower stall speed was achieved. Stall (V_S1) printed in the POH will be the standard about compliance.

Several pilots have complained about use of calibrated versus indicated airspeed for the stall limit, but this is another matter that might be clarified after the comment period.

Endorsements: One of the significant lessons learned in 20 years of pilots operating LSAs is the so-called magic of endorsements. Instead of asking pilots to receive training, take a knowledge test and possibly an oral exam, followed by a practical flight test, they can just go get trained for added skills from an instructor who then endorses their logbook accordingly, and they’re good to go. This puts a significant burden on flight instructors to do their jobs well, but that’s already the situation.

The NPRM already refers to the use of endorsements for retractable gear training or adjustable prop training, and many believe that expanding endorsements to all privileges described in the MOSAIC proposal has merit.

Noise: For the first time, the NPRM introduced noise requirements that encompass several pages. Coincidentally, the LSA sector is already one of the quietest in the airborne fleet.

This is partly because of European noise regulations that have been in place for a long time, motivating quieter engine and exhaust system development. However, LSAs are also quieter because the powerplants are modern, thanks to the faster approval process implied by industry consensus standards.

The industry was not pleased about the noise proposal, as these requirements add burden without identifiable benefit. Nonetheless, the situation might be handled through the ASTM process more quickly and still satisfy political demands.

Night: MOSAIC’s language invigorated many readers when the NPRM expressed support for a sport pilot to fly at night—with proper training and a logbook endorsement. Then the proposal refers to other FAA regulations that require BasicMed or a medical. If you must have a medical, you are not exercising the central privilege of a sport pilot. Why suggest that a sport pilot can do things that are blocked by other regulations? This conflict should be resolved.

This is one of several aspects of the NPRM that many describe as “inconsistencies,” where one part of MOSAIC appears to restrict another part, often for unclear reasons. Such observations lead many to declare the NPRM looks “rushed to market.” Hopefully, most problems can be addressed in the post-comment period.

When surveyed about why night privileges are valued, most pilots wanted to be able to complete a cross-country flight with a landing after dark.

IFR/IMC: Contrary to what many think, the FAA has never prohibited LSAs from IFR/IMC operation. It is the lack of an ASTM standard to which manufacturers can declare compliance that prevents such sales. (Some special LSA owners elect a change to experimental LSA status and can then file IFR, assuming they have a rating, are current, and the airplane is properly equipped.)

However, as with night operations, many LSA owners report higher-level pilot certificates often including instrument ratings, and they would like to be able to use their LSAs to get through a thin cloud layer.

Maintenance and TBOs: The maintenance community has found several objections within the NPRM. It appears that changes could cause a loss of privilege for LSA owners who have taken training to perform basic maintenance on their own LSAs.

In addition to altering the privileges of light sport repairman mechanic (LSRM) certificate holders, MOSAIC adds capabilities such as electric propulsion, hybrid, turbine, and powered-lift devices, which leaves the mechanic-training industry guessing where to start. Some organizations wonder if it’s worth the investment to create appropriate courses with uncertain privilege at the end.

Indeed, eight training organizations suggested they would petition for an extension to the comment period. It was successful, so the extension will delay the expected arrival of the finished MOSAIC regulation. Absent any extension, the FAA has repeatedly said 16 months were needed, equating to the end of 2024 or early 2025.

One group creatively suggested using add-on training modules to solve the problem in much the same way that endorsements can be used to solve pilot training enhancements.

Lack of sector expertise: The FAA knows a great deal about conventional, three-axis airplanes but far less about so-called “alternative LSAs.” For machines that use different control systems or operate substantially differently than airplanes—weight shift and powered parachutes come to mind—some industry experts believe a better system is to authorize an industry organization to manage these sectors. This has been common throughout Europe for many years and could work well in the U.S.

In a document of its size, some errors will arise and some clarifications will be needed. It is only a proposal after all. Pilots can comment on certain aspects but will have little idea how the FAA can or will solve various points, even if they offer solutions.

This frustrates some readers and can cause uncertainty about a pending or planned airplane purchase. In turn, purchase-decision delays frustrate airplane manufacturers. That’s the precarious terrain surrounding new regulations. Such comments on regulation are part of the American way, where the citizens can be part of the process. Here’s your chance to speak and be heard.

This column first appeared in the November 2023/Issue 943 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Pilots Have Questions When It Comes to MOSAIC appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In a boardroom cross-country—literally—from where I sat, former Cessna president and CEO Jack Pelton had closed the deal, yes, buying “certain assets of the Columbia Aircraft Company.” His excitement about the purchase rang through the few lines of text—for the airplanes Textron had just bought as well as the potential for growing Cessna’s foothold in an evolving piston marketplace. And from that moment, my own relationship unfolded with the airplane. What started as the Columbia 400 could have taken the high-performance, piston-single segment by storm, born of the Lancair heritage. It would become the Cessna 400—known briefly by its marketing name, Corvalis TT—and finally, in its most recent edition, the Cessna TTx.

The type designation—Cessna T240—would place it atop the hierarchy of Cessna singles, but it began life as an offshoot of a popular kitplane, the Lancair ES. Lancair formed a new business entity, Columbia, to oversee the development and manufacture of the 300, followed by the 350, then the 400, under Part 23. The company was new to the process of type certification, but not to high-performance aircraft development, and this resulted in a string of airplanes determined to knock a pilot’s socks off with their ability to go fast, maneuver fearlessly, and look nothing short of awesome doing it.

• READ MORE: We Fly: Garmin Autoland for the Beechcraft King Air 200

Columbia upgraded the original 300 (FAA type certificated in 1998) to the 350 with the addition of an optional glass panel—Avidyne’s Entegra primary flight display—in 2003, along with the more powerful, turbocharged 400, right up until the company dissolved in 2007. Columbia achieved the airplane’s stall speed requirement with a multiphase wing, moving the aerodynamic stall inboard and limiting up elevator travel and left rudder pedal range. These changes resulted in an airplane that could be certified under the FAA’s definition of spin resistant—unable to enter a spin even with pro-spin inputs. Recovery would come from normal anti-spin procedures, as opposed to the ballistic recovery parachute system required by its primary competitor, the Cirrus SR20 and SR22.

Westbound

The only visible moisture we touched in 933 nm between Hagerstown, Maryland, and Wichita, Kansas, came during the takeoff roll at KHGR—wisps of mist that had suppressed the visibility below a quarter mile for the hour prior to our departure still wavered across the wide runway. As soon as we lifted off, we left it behind and continued our climb over the first folds of the Appalachian hills, as I revisited the TTx in September.

As we cut a path through the sky westbound above the scattered threads of valley fog, I thought of the last cross-country I made in an SR22T. Yes, the newer avionics of the Cirrus have had the benefit of continuous evolution—the TTx suffers from a paralysis in updating the G2000, such that its capabilities seem encased in amber.

• READ MORE: We Fly: WACO YMF-5

The touchscreen control pad—called by the model designation GTC—went under development with Garmin immediately after the acquisition, as one of the primary components of the G2000—a two-big-screen integrated flight deck driven by softkeys on the display bezels as well as remotely through the GTC. This formed the foundation that Garmin would leverage into the G3000 we now find on single-engine turboprops and on up the food chain. Thus the lack of a Perspective doesn’t hit as keenly—you still feel like you’re in a modern cockpit though the architecture is now 10-plus years old.

Cessna worked in concert with Garmin on the development of the touchscreen and exactly how the pilot actions would activate the controls on the display. Though it appears to be actuated by the heat of a finger—as our smartphones do—early versions introduced crisscrossing beams across the screen that would be interrupted by the presence of the pilot’s finger. But just breaking the beam wouldn’t be enough to activate the “button” on the screen below—a deliberate pause and stroke was required. This action has been refined in subsequent models of the GTCs—but it was intriguing to give my input to the product management team during the testing phase in Cessna’s R&D lab in Wichita in the early 2010s.

The Way-Back Machine

Continuing the flashbacks: Now we’ll move forward a bit to 2014. I’d joined Jeppesen as a senior manager in aviation courseware development—but was ready to strike out on my own. I decided to take back two familiar roles—working on a book and flight instructing. I paired up with a retired race car driver and engineer who had just bought a 2012 TTx on the preowned market through the local Cessna piston sales dealer in the Denver metro area. He needed a bit of transition training as he pursued his instrument rating. But he felt clearly comfortable with the TTx’s speed and nimble coupling, given his background. The TTx fit him and his personality like a glove.

• READ MORE: Today’s Top AircraftForSale.com Pick: Cessna TTx, the ‘Other Cirrus’?

We headed to Independence, Kansas, for the factory-led portion of his TTx training—and my refresher course in the model since I’d left Cessna. In fact, KIDP was the scene where just a couple of years ago I’d seen the TTx fuselages join together from their composite halves on the production line as the company sorted through the best way to replicate the former Columbia Aircraft factory in Bend, Oregon. I’d visited that facility as well—in February 2008, Cessna held a sales meeting in Bend, and members of the team toured the compact production line, with clearly skilled craftsmen attending to each unit. The initial promise to keep production within the hands of this dedicated team boded well—as well as retaining a beautiful location for customer delivery and training—but internal and external economic forces in late 2008 and 2009 conspired against that original business plan.

For the likes of Six Sigma-led Cessna to pick up that work and translate it to a line more like that of its legacy singles, such as the 172, 182, and 206, it would be a feat—but made more so by the nature of the Columbia airplanes’ composite construction. At the time, most composite work for Cessna was completed at the TAM facility in Mexico, but these were nonstructural components like fairings and nose bowls. The entire fuselage required a complex layup process beyond that kind of work. Still, Textron forced the movement of production from Bend to Chihuahua. As it turned out, the need wasn’t properly identified to upgrade all the environmental systems at the Mexico plant to properly address the layup and curing via autoclave of the carbon fiber and Kevlar composites used in the Columbia design—and early serial numbers on the Cessna 400 suffered. Delamination in a handful of wings—discovered in an FAA flight test when an integrated fuel tank in the wing leaked—torpedoed the 400’s reputation in the market.

The move of more production and assembly to Independence, and the rebranding and upgrades to the model to create the TTx, sought to assuage those issues. However, the loss of confidence—however temporary and well addressed—combined with Cirrus Aircraft’s powerful presence and success in the market gave the TTx too far to go to make up lost ground. Though 110 units sold in 2008—the last of the Bend-built Columbias— sales never reached beyond the double digits per quarter, even after the upgrade to the TTx. In the end, Cessna ceased production on the TTx in 2018, with a total of 704 400s and TTxs built.

Pelton offers the perspective of reflection after 15 years have passed since Cessna made the transition from Bend production to Kansas and Mexico: “The economic downturn of 2008 really forced things, making it necessary to move the line away from Oregon where the knowledge base for composite layup was, as well as a great place to have customer deliveries.” That stumble cost dearly, along with a couple of other key delays, one in bringing FIKI certification into play, and the other in failing to market well on the strength of the airplane aerodynamically over its competitors.

Yeah, Baby!

Yes, shunning the TTx as weak in any way would be a serious mistake. In fact, the 400 from which it derived carries a utility category certification, meaning it actually has as a limit load factor of 4.4 positive Gs—and minor aerobatic chops as a result. Legendary airshow pilot

Sean D. Tucker nabbed the Columbia 400 for use in his Tutima Academy of Flight Safety in 2006—and if you search his name and the model on YouTube, you’ll find an inspiring video of the master taking the 400 through a graceful routine. The FAA granted a reclassification of the stock 400 into an experimental airworthiness certificate so that it could be flown in aerobatic and upset prevention and recovery training. And that’s what Tucker used the mount for, as it closely resembles the airplanes many pilots fly for themselves—as opposed to an Extra 330—yet it provided a slightly wider envelope for maneuvers. Though Tucker no longer offers the 400 as part of the academy’s portfolio, the legacy remains meaningful.

So don’t get any ideas about taking a TTx out for a loop and a roll—just know that the model carries this strength forward, along with impressive maneuverability and a real appeal to hand-flying pilots. The Columbia 400s came with carved mahogany flight control sticks mounted on the side panels—left for the pilot, right for the copilot—and they are true sticks, with a natural range of motion and articulation. When I had the chance to put the now leather-wrapped stick in my hand during our flight to Wichita, it was like greeting an old friend who falls into step next to you.

Cruise Control

For our two-leg mission to Wichita, we planned a stop at Spirit of St. Louis Airport (KSUS) on the north side of the metro area on the western banks of the Mississippi River near where the Missouri River joins it. At 8,000 feet, we kept 150 kias and 175 ktas most of the way, with a little more or less in spots. The weather gods not only blessed us with clear skies but also a mere breath of a headwind, which translated into a crosswind somewhere over Illinois.

A quick fuel-up and turn at Signature Flight Support at KSUS—and chicken tenders and waffle fries for the road—had us off again for a two-hour jaunt across Missouri and into Kansas for the slide into the bumps below the LCL and Eisenhower National Airport (KICT). We arrived in comfort and style, as we weaved through the obstacle course of construction to the ramp at Yingling Aviation.

For our troubles, we averaged about 15.8 gph on both legs, taking a total of roughly 100 gallons of 100LL to make the journey halfway across the country in about six hours. Try getting from door to door, Maryland to Wichita, in less than that on the airlines. I dare you.

Any Gotchas?

The twin turbochargers on the Continental TSIO-550 respond well to careful management—and replacing them is not cheap. Nor is making up for any damage they might do if pressed to failure, so they’re worth treating nicely.

When you do, however, you’re rewarded with great performance figures across the board. The TTx can get off the ground in a relatively short distance: a 1,300-foot ground roll, with 1,900 feet to over a hypothetical 50-foot obstacle in sea-level standard conditions, as shown in the book values and as I witnessed many times in practice. It will land just as short, as far as ground roll is concerned—1,250 feet—but you need to budget a bit more space for the whole trees-at-the-end approach at around 2,700 feet.

Just as with the SR series, speed control on final rewards the pilot and helps to avoid the dreaded runway overrun that plagues high-performance singles. One area in this regard where the SRs have an edge? The approach flap speed has been raised to 150 kias on SR22s—while the TTx’s remains at a painfully slow 127 kias. Fortunately, the TTx has speed brakes to help you slow down and get down at the same time. You will use them all the time—there’s no speed restriction on them (apart from VN_E)—just have them tucked in before you touch down.

The Columbia 400 originally came with an optional E-Vade anti-ice system on the wings, which used heat-conducting panels to shed the ice. However, it didn’t come certificated for flight into known ice (FIKI). Whether to add the option was debated within Cessna ranks until finally the TKS “weeping wing” de-icing system was introduced in March 2012, with full FIKI certification coming in June 2014. The TKS Ice Protection system offers up to 2.5 hours of icing protection—but that translates into 10.15 gallons at a hefty 9 pounds per gallon weight for a total of 91.4 pounds fluid weight—137 pounds for the system.

On the Market

You’ll want to search for the Columbia 400, Cessna 400, Corvalis, and TTx in order to capture all of the possible models existing on the market. At press time, I found roughly 20 TTxs available, mostly in the U.S. but a few overseas. The original 400 gained FAA type certification in April 2004 under Lancair’s direction, and European Union Aviation Safety Agency approval followed in 2009.

Pricing runs the gamut—from the mid-$300,000s to just north of $700,000—depending on equipment, total time, and location. But most appear to have between 900 and 2,000 hours, reflecting flight time of 100 to 200 hours per year since new. With the TBO at 2,000 hours, the cost of a new big-bore Continental or its overhaul may need to be factored into your purchase price.

Still, with the SR22Ts of the same vintage asking an average from $699,000 and up in Aircraft For Sale, the TTx looks mighty attractive on the spreadsheet. But the numbers tell only a small part of the story. As with all airplanes for which we harbor grand affections, the real joy comes in the flying.

Accelerated Bliss: Flying the Cessna 400 Series Was a True Pleasure

By Pia Bergqvist

In my 24-plus years of flying, I have been fortunate to take the controls of many different types of airplanes. Like adopted children, the two airplanes I have owned—Peppermint Patty, the Cessna 170, and Manny, the Mooney—occupy the softest part of my pilot heart. But the airplane that brought me the most enjoyable personal flying experience was one that, like some favorite children, bears many names. It started out as the Columbia 400, became the Cessna 400 when I first flew it, and was later renamed Corvalis TT and TTx.

I was one of four Cessna 350/400 product specialists (the 350 being the non-turbocharged version) spread around the country when the company took over and started marketing the aircraft type in 2008. Emily Waters covered the West Coast, Doug Walker the Northeast, and Kel Jones the Southeast—all three were previous Columbia pilots. I was new to the airplane, and my territory spanned from New Mexico to Tennessee and South Dakota to Texas. It might appear to be a large area for a single-engine piston four-seater. But covering the region in this sports car with wings was no trouble at all.

I will never forget traveling to Bend, Oregon, where the factory was located at the time, to pick up my first demo airplane. The terrific team of employees there gave me first-class treatment, as if I was a customer. There was a sign bearing my name standing in front of a factory-new Cessna 400—a black, silver, and white beauty—N86DE. The production quality was stellar, with flawless composite production, paint finishing, and interior and avionics installation. It was easy to proudly represent the airplane for the Wichita, Kansas-based company.

In no other airplane have I been able to sit as comfortably, with my left hand on the sidestick and the right hand on the keypad that manipulated most functions on the G1000 MFD—the flight deck installed in the 400 before the TTx moved up to the G2000. I had many long days in that seat, without even a hint of discomfort. While the Cessna 350/400 was equipped with the terrific GFC 700 autopilot, I hand-flew the airplane on most legs. It was simply a really fun airplane to fly, with enough maneuverability to satisfy one of the best aerobatic airshow performers of all time—Sean D. Tucker (yes, there are YouTube videos to prove it). In fact, the airplane earned well its certification in the utility category.

And the Cessna 400 got me where I needed to go quickly. I could count on around 200 ktas at 10,000 feet, but if I wanted to go faster, I simply hooked on to the built-in oxygen system and climbed higher. On one flight from Independence, Kansas, to Memphis, Tennessee, I reached 306 knots ground speed. Walker was kind enough to send me a patch, inaugurating me into the 300-knot club of Columbia pilots.

In the nearly 600 hours I was fortunate enough to fly the Cessna 400 and 350, I flew from coast to coast to dealers and airshows, and I took countless friends and strangers for rides. Many fond memories were forged in that airplane, and I hope, one day, I will return to that blissful seat.

Controls/Instruments at a Glance

A. The TTx featured the first—and perhaps only— Garmin G2000 integrated flight deck in a piston single. It works quite well, but the upgrade path is uncertain at this point.

B. The first of the GTC touchscreen controllers—a single one—came with the introduction of the Corvalis model.

C. The Continental TSIO-550 up front requires management of the twin turbos, but a robust engine information system display aids with keeping everything in the green.

D. The beautiful, wood sidestick flight control in the Columbia 400 transitioned to a leather-wrapped model, but it still falls comfortably to hand and maneuvers with ease throughout the significant flight envelope.

E. The GFC 700 takes FMS input for smooth climbs and descents tracking a flight plan.

2013 Cessna TTx Specs

Price New, Avg. Equipment: $810,000

Price, 2023: $450,000 to $700,000

Engine: Continental TSIO-550-C (310 hp) TBO: 2,000 hours

Propeller: McCauley, three-blade, constant speed

Seats: 4

Wingspan: 36 ft.

Wing Area: 141.2 sq. ft.

Wing Loading: 25.5 lbs./sq. ft.

Length: 25 ft., 2 in.

Height: 9 ft.

Baggage Weight: 120 lbs.

Standard Empty Weight: 2,520 lbs.

Max Takeoff Weight: 3,600 lbs.

Max Landing Weight: 3,420 lbs.

Max Useful Load: 1,070 lbs.

Fuel: 106 gal./102 gal. usable

Max Rate of Climb: 1,400 fpm

Service Ceiling: 25,000 ft.

Stall Speed (landing config.): 60 kias

Max Cruise Speed: 235 ktas

Max Range: 1,250 nm

Normal Range: 502 nm with 3 passengers (Conklin & deDecker/JSSI)

Takeoff Distance, Sea Level (over a 50 ft. obs.): 1,900 ft.

Landing Distance, Sea Level (over a 50 ft. obs.): 2,700 ft.

This column first appeared in the November 2023/Issue 943 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post We Fly: Cessna TTx appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

1. Beware of homemade parts and accessories.

My airplane’s previous owner was a retired rocket engineer who had it for roughly 40 years. He spent his career working in various facets of aviation and aerospace. His work is literally aboard the Voyager space probes at this very moment.

• READ MORE: The First Lesson in the New Airplane? Overly Eventful

If ever there was a guy who could properly care for a single-engine Cessna, I reasoned, this was the guy. And he did indeed take good care of it…and he also fabricated a few things himself, like custom cowl plugs to prevent birds from nesting in the engine. The plugs were well-made and easily utilized by any reasonably intelligent individual.

However, the cowl plugs were not idiot-proof. More specifically, they lacked any obvious visual indication that they were in place. I learned this during my very first lesson in my airplane when I neglected to remove them, overheated the engine, cracked multiple cylinders, and was forced to have a top overhaul done on the engine.

It was entirely my fault. But had I used a mass-produced cowl plug that was designed with idiots in mind, I would almost certainly have spotted the red flags or streamers from the cockpit, removed them prior to engine start, and avoided an embarrassing and costly mistake.

The lesson? Beware of amateur-built items like cowl plugs, wheel chocks, gust locks, and similar accessories. Determine what makes them different from mass-produced versions, and consider whether these differences could be the first link in a chain of events leading toward an unfortunate incident.

2. A good engine monitor is an extremely worthwhile investment.

Prior to the panel upgrade I made last year, my airplane had a variety of antiquated engine gauges, including a digital cylinder head temperature (CHT) readout that only ever displayed the temperature of one of my six cylinders. The other gauges were all positioned on the far side of my panel, well outside the normal field of vision. When I installed a Garmin GI 275 EIS engine monitoring display, this single unit replaced nine individual gauges while bringing far more engine information into my field of view. It also logs and stores engine data to help mechanics diagnose tricky engine issues.

Now, having flown with the GI 275 for about six months, I can say I’ve never paid more attention to the state and health of my engine. For example, just as I refer to a target rpm and airspeed on takeoff, I now also use a target CHT during climb out. This ensures I’m not inadvertently subjecting the engine to unnecessarily high temperatures, and it makes me wonder whether such an upgrade would have alerted me to high CHTs earlier and prevented the engine damage I incurred during the unfortunate cowl plug incident.

3. A good mechanic is an effortless solution to annoying problems.

Over the past few years, I’ve come to realize something related to aircraft ownership and finances—any problem that requires a total investment of only three figures to remedy is an absolute no-brainer, worthy of your immediate attention. 

I’m fortunate to have the means to say this, and it makes my scrimping and saving in other areas of life a bit less painful. But it took me a while to understand. For example, I spent the better part of a year putting up with a stubbornly tight fuel sump. Every time I’d pull a sample out of the left tank before a flight, I’d have to position my fuel strainer just so and then put muscle into pushing it upward. Half the time, the strainer would slip, and I’d end up with a fuel-covered hand. It was annoying.

It was similarly annoying to deal with my 170’s original mixture knob. It was the old kind that resembled a carb heat knob. It had about 2 inches of stiff travel, and precise adjustment was simply not possible. I hated it from the get-go.

I eventually made each of these annoyances disappear forever with the wave of a credit card and a call to my mechanic, who, conveniently, is willing to drive to my airplane. A new fuel sump was only around $20, a new McFarlane vernier mixture control was a few hundred, and each required only a small amount of time for him to fix. Had I realized just how quick and easy it was to clear my mind of annoyances that distract me from flying duties, I would have addressed them far earlier than I did.

4. Don’t put up with poor checklists just because the previous owner did.

The checklists that came with my airplane were absolutely terrible. For some reason, the run-up checks were included in one massive “Before Takeoff” checklist. This meant that when hammering out landing after landing with full-stop taxi-backs, I had to sift through and omit the various steps of the runup when running through the lengthy before-takeoff checklist. 

It wasn’t long before I missed an important item.

On perhaps my sixth or seventh takeoff of the day, I applied power and was surprised when the airplane leaped off the runway far earlier than usual. I was similarly surprised when, after getting into ground effect, it stubbornly refused to accelerate. Within seconds, I put two and two together and realized the flaps were still set at 40 degrees. Gingerly retracting the first couple of notches to avoid settling, I cleaned up and cleared the departure-end trees with a healthy margin.

It spooked me, though. And like the aforementioned small annoyances that continually pestered me on every flight, I realized I’d been needlessly putting up with this checklist annoyance for too long. I ultimately created new and better checklists, and I supplemented them with a five-item pre-takeoff flow that I perform after lining up in position and immediately prior to advancing throttle for takeoff (fuel selector, trim, flaps, mixture, and carb heat). Since making these two changes, I’ve never missed an item before takeoff.

5. It’s OK to not be adventurous or to not fly at all.

Airplane ownership has been a lifelong goal for me. The flying I’d do in my head, sitting in seventh-grade social studies or, later, in aviation law or advanced meteorology, was downright majestic. I envisioned myself setting off on adventures every weekend, exploring new airfields, and meeting new challenges as though I were starring in my own weekly Indiana Jones-inspired miniseries. 

Reality has proven to be far less grandiose. Grappling with the daily challenges of a demanding full-time job, an additional part-time job, and all the other duties that weave their way into saving for a house and retirement leaves me mentally exhausted more often than not. Accordingly, simple, unremarkable flying has proven to be the most enjoyable over the past few years, and it’s not uncommon to want to unplug and relax even when presented with a picture-perfect day.

For a long time, I felt pretty guilty about this. Here I am, having finally obtained the airplane of my dreams, one that’s equipped with all the necessary mods to set off on epic backcountry trips, and I’ve only been using it to hone my tailwheel skills on mundane grass strips. And here I am, often opting not to fly at all on many days with beautiful flying weather. 

Eventually, I realized that there was plenty of time to tackle the more exciting kinds of flying I’ve always envisioned. It took me decades to achieve airplane ownership, after all, and if taking a relaxed approach to my flying hits the spot for the time being, that’s OK. It’s both comforting and intriguing to know that by saving up and buying a more capable airplane, I’ve got one I can grow into rather than out of, abilitywise. And it feels good to know that plenty of adventures lie ahead.

The post 5 Things I Wish I Had Known Before Buying My First Airplane appeared first on FLYING Magazine.