| Date | Aircraft | Route of Flight | Time (hours) | Total Time (hours) |
| 27 Feb 2004 | N2515U | 35D (Allegan,MI), local flight | 1.1 | 165.6 |
| 10 Mar 2004 | N21481 | GOK (Guthrie, OK), local flight | 0.5 | 166.1 |
| 12 Mar 2004 | N21481 | GOK - M17 (Bolivar, MO) - 50I (Kentland, IN) - HAI (Three Rivers, MI) | 6.5 | 172.6 |
| 19 Mar 2004 | N21481 | HAI, local flight | 1.0 | 173.6 |
| 01 Apr 2004 | N21481 | HAI - 0D1 (South Haven, MI) | 1.0 | 174.6 |
Check Out: February 27, 2004, Allegan, MI
"Allegan Traffic, Warrior one five uniform, left downwind one zero, Allegan."
For only the fourth time in my life, I was flying left seat in a strange airplane with a new instructor at my side. I was comfortable at the controls of the Piper Warrior because it was a doppelganger of the Cherokee 180 out of Three Rivers in which I had already logged thirty hours. But I quickly learned that there were some subtle differences in the handling characteristics between Pipers bearing the Hershey Bar wing of the 180 versus the modern tapered wing on the Warrior.
 | ||
| N2515U photographed at South Haven, July 4, 2005 |
Abeam the runway numbers, I reduced power and added 10° of flaps. Prior Cherokee experience demonstrated that this new configuration would cause the nose to drop and I automatically moved to increase nose-up trim.
"You don't need to do that in this airplane," Ken interjected. He was right. As I reduced power and adjusted flap settings, the airplane remained trimmed appropriately.
On final approach, the Warrior exceeded my expectations again when Ken suggested I bring the throttle back to idle. In the Cherokee 180, I was accustomed to carrying power right down to the runway to avoid the high sink rate it exhibited at idle power. Following Ken's instructions, I pulled the Warrior's t-handle throttle back to idle and listened to the rumble of the engine die away. With the runway threshold still ahead of us, I was pleasantly surprised by how the Warrior continued to glide in positively un-bricklike fashion.
Rolling down runway 10, I settled the flap lever back to the floor. As I leaned down, my headset caught on the sun visor and pulled off of my head. I cleared the runway, stopped the airplane, and resettled my errant headgear.
"Low headroom," I remarked to Ken.
"I can fix that," he said with a grin and reached for a lever outside my field of vision that dropped my seat several inches.
"Oh," I noted, chagrined. It never occurred to me that the Warrior's seat height would be adjustable. After all, the majority of my flying time was in a 1976 Cessna 150M. In that airplane, occupants essentially sat on the floor. Vertical adjustment was accomplished by sitting on pillows.
After an hour in N2515U, Ken endorsed me as "checked out" and qualified to fly a Warrior. In the end, I was pleasantly surprised by how well the aircraft handled; a low wing Piper with the visibility I liked, but with handling more like a Cessna. To my way of thinking, it was truly the best of both worlds.
What compelled me to get checked out in a new airplane that February afternoon? Technically, it was my insurance company. Underlying that, however, was stagnation. N2515U was a stepping stone in a journey toward something better.
Stagnation: Fall 2003
A few months prior to my February flight in Warrior 2515U, I came to a simple conclusion: stagnation is a dreadful thing.
A year after earning my private pilot certificate, I came to realize that I was at a crossroads. I was still renting the same Cessna 150 that had served as my battered steed throughout flight training. Sometimes I made excursions in the nicer, faster (but pricey) Cherokee 180 also available for rent at Three Rivers (HAI). Being airborne still made me indescribably happy, but after a year with the rental fleet, I became frustrated.
Because they were rentals, people treated the aircraft with a rental mentality. The airplanes were often dirty, always in high demand, and sometimes returned late by careless renters. This latter point was brought home to me on September 2, 2003 while sitting outside the Three Rivers FBO staring at an empty ramp approximately one hour after I had reserved a Cherokee 180. Kent, Dave and I had taken vacation from work that afternoon only to find ourselves sitting on the ground twiddling our thumbs rather than plying the skies above. We had planned a trip to retrieve Dave's Super Decathlon from Ludington, where bad weather the previous weekend had forced Dave and his wife to abandon it in favor of ground transportation back to Kalamazoo. "You need your own airplane," Dave commented as we sat earthbound beneath achingly beautiful cerulean heavens. Though offhanded, Dave's comment stuck with me.
Like the trip Dave and his wife had taken to Ludington, I also wanted to make longer trips out of the area. To fly a rental on a weekend jaunt incurred a cost beyond the typical rental rate. So I stayed close to Three Rivers whenever I rented an airplane. But it became harder and harder to justify the hassle of renting an airplane just to bop around the same local airspace with landings at the same nearby airports (though, with nothing new to do, at least those landings became consistently good).
If I stayed on that path, I knew that I would become one of those pilots that never flew anymore. I needed something new to do. I considered the option of an instrument rating. From my reading, however, I knew that an IFR (instrument flight rules) ticket requires frequent practice to stay proficient. The instrument rating struck me as most useful for traveling pilots that need to minimize the impact of weather on their schedules. Because I did not expect to travel much in rental airplanes, it was unlikely that I would use the skills of an IFR rating often enough for me to rely on them when actually needed. As a result, I saw no point in pursuing an instrument rating at this stage.
Instead, I realized that Dave's offhanded comment in Three Rivers summed up the most logical next step: my own airplane. It would be there for me at a moment's notice, for as long as I wanted, and always in the same condition in which I had left it. If I started using the airplane for travel, that would be a more logical time to pursue an instrument rating. And if that was the case, I could do the training in my own airplane.
Research
I did my homework carefully. I talked with other owners. I read articles about purchasing aircraft on the AOPA website. I studied other websites like VRef and ASO (Aircraft Shopper Online) over several months to get a feel for the cost of various types and configurations. I ran mortgage simulations and obtained on-line insurance quotes for various aircraft I was considering. By the end of 2003 I was leaning toward something in the Piper Cherokee line. From my experiences in renting both Piper and Cessna aircraft, I decided that I preferred the visibility out of the low-wing Piper, even if I preferred the Cessna's handling. Additionally, with Cessnas being in higher demand, Piper generally cost less and allowed buying more airplane for the money.
 |
| Me, Pam, and my "new" airplane on May 2, 2004. Photo by Kristy. |
For Christmas of 2003, my sister-in-law, Pam, presented me with a timely gift: James Ellis' book, "Buying and Owning Your Own Airplane". The book cemented many of the conclusions I had already drawn and was full of step-by-step advice on the purchasing process. After digesting the contents of the book, I finally felt like I was ready to start looking in earnest.
Caveat Emptor
Apprehensive about the logistics of purchasing an aircraft, and knowing that distance would complicate matters further, I focused my search close to home: Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. After monitoring ASO and Trade-A-Plane for a couple of months, a good deal appeared on a 1978 Piper Warrior II in Ohio. Photographs displayed an aircraft with a nice instrument panel, a beautiful new paint job, and a new leather interior. Best of all, the advertisement noted a newly overhauled engine.
Ready to pounce on it, I first called John. John is an aircraft mechanic and owns the FBO in Three Rivers where I learned to fly. I knew him well, liked him, and most importantly, trusted him. After listening carefully to his advice, I called the number in the newly-posted advertisement.
Unfortunately, my telephone inquiry revealed a bait-and-switch. The engine had not been overhauled in 1100 hours. The seller apologized for this "editorial error" and provided me with an appropriately reduced price. Though suspicious, I realized that the engine should still have some life in it and I continued to delve deeper.
Unfortunately, the seller was an aircraft broker with very little practical knowledge about the airplane she was selling. Independent research (the web is a wonderful thing) revealed that the "minor wingtip damage" noted in the ad had actually been a significant encounter between the aircraft and a fence that had resulted in replacement of the left wing spar.
As I learned about unadvertised airframe damage, John was examining copies of the aircraft log books. He found some suspicious entries about an in-flight engine failure followed by a dubious field-overhaul in Mexico. Some of the overhaul work was repeated a year later by another mechanic, which did not bode well for the quality of work done south of the border. The logs also revealed a recent engine fire severe enough that the owner had apparently taken the airplane to different mechanics before finding one willing to sign it off as airworthy. John conceded that this might be a wonderful aircraft, but the log books did not inspire confidence. I agreed.
When I terminated the deal, the broker tried to shame me into sticking with it. "You're not going to find an airplane of that age that doesn't have some history," she said. "I've ridden in the aircraft and it flies just fine." The sharp-looking Warrior remained for sale for several more months. All the discrepancies from the original advertisement remained unchanged in the listing. Eventually, the aircraft disappeared from the listings, presumably sold to someone less discriminating.
Out of morbid curiosity, I searched on the tail number of that aircraft two years later. I found it available for auction from an aircraft salvager. It seems that the Warrior had succumbed to yet another engine fire. Photographs showed a blackened powerplant hung on the front of a Piper with a familiar paint scheme. Not knowing the cause of the fire, I have no idea what the ultimate moral of the story might be in this case. But it is difficult not to feel as though I dodged a bullet.
Oklahoma?
Although my first experience with an aircraft seller was not positive, it was educational and I resumed my search with greater understanding and confidence. I also decided to expand the search to a wider area. In doing so, I found N21481, a 1979 Piper Warrior. The airplane had 60 hours on an overhauled engine with a recent paint job and interior. The price was competitive with comparable airplanes listed for sale at the same time. The new twist in this case was that the airplane was located in Guthrie, Oklahoma. My first thought was, Oklahoma? That's one of the big states somewhere in the middle, right? Despite my worries about the distance, I called the seller.
 |
| N21481 as advertised in ASO. Photo by Bill S. |
Negotiations
Before long, John had copies of the books in his hands. His comments were generally positive. He noted that the airplane, with about 4400 total hours on it, had seen typical and appropriate care over the years. There is a puzzling lapse in logbook activity from the early 1980's to the early 1990's. However, the tachometer times on either side of the gap match perfectly such that it appears Warrior 481 spent the Reagan years sitting in a hangar. Time as a "hangar queen" can be a deal-breaker, raising major concerns about corrosion in an engine that sat idle for far too long. However, the first logbook entry following the gap describes a major overhaul for the engine which was then flown regularly for the several years leading up to the most recent overhaul in 2003.
Finding nothing disagreeable in the logbooks, I agreed on the verbiage of a purchase agreement with Bill and wired a deposit to Oklahoma. The next step was a physical evaluation of the airplane. It would have been cost prohibitive to ferry John to the airplane and, likewise, costly to bring the airplane to John. Instead, I contracted a mechanic in Guthrie to do a pre-buy inspection under my supervision. This mechanic had no prior experience with Bill's airplane, which meant that I was likely to get a more objective assessment of its condition.
The aircraft was due for an annual inspection at the end of March. Ideally, I would have had a trusted mechanic (i.e., John) perform a combined pre-buy / annual inspection. However, I decided to make my purchase decision based on the pre-buy inspection and John's review of the logbooks. If all went well, I would complete the deal and bring the airplane to John for an annual. This seemed like a good compromise between keeping my costs reasonable while still minimizing the risk of purchasing a flying lemon.
The next trick was getting to Guthrie. In the end, I was able to procure a one way car rental through Hertz for a reasonable price with a drop-off in nearby Edmond, Oklahoma. If the pre-buy did not go well, I would forgo the drop-off and simply return to Kalamazoo in the car.
N2515U
"Oklahoma, Where the Wind Comes Sweeping Down the Plain"
I had a 950 mile, 14 hour (estimated) drive in front of me for the day. The only significant stop that I made was in Bloomington, Ill to have lunch with Greg, my best friend from high school. Along the way I sipped from a bottle of water picked up at an Illinois rest stop and made periodic cell phone calls to check in with Kristy and my lender. Before nightfall, I had arranged for the escrow to be set up, checked in with Kristy twice, and was driving within Oklahoma's borders. I knew that I was a stranger in a strange land when my route took me past numerous signs warning me not to drive into any smoke. The mystique of the Will Rogers Turnpike deepened further when I drove beneath a garish colossus straddling I-44 that claimed to be the world's largest McDonald's.
The final hour of the drive was spent straining to keep my eyes open. When I stumbled into the Guthrie Best Western, I was so tired that I did not notice when the counter clerk misspelled Kalamazoo as "Calmizu" on my invoice.
The First Look
I slipped into the pilot's seat, reached for the yoke and throttle, and made airplane noises. So far, so good. She was a beautiful airplane and, for a moment, it was as if I was in one of those Frosted Mini-Wheat commercials from the 1980's. The kid in me wanted to jump up and down saying, "It's mine, you understand? Mine, mine! All mine!" (my inner child evidently manifests as Daffy Duck). Fortunately, the adult persona won out, folding his (my) arms and demanding to see the results of the inspection. Like any responsible buyer, I resisted the urge to become too enamored with the airplane and prepared myself to walk away from it if necessary.
 |
| N21481 prior to painting. Photo by Bill S. |
The mechanic began the pre-buy as I watched. John was with me in spirit via the litany of items he wanted me to ensure were checked during the inspection. This was quite a learning experience for me and the mechanic did a nice job of explaining everything he did.
We found that the engine compression was good. The oil filter had some evidence of metal in it, but no more than expected for a recently-overhauled engine. I was a bit alarmed when, looking into the wing inspection panels, we observed what appeared to be a crack in the wing spar. Fortunately, the "crack" washed off with acetone, effectively rendering it a non-issue.
During the inspection, the owner of the shop visited with us briefly while giving the airplane a critical eye. "Piper finally got it right with these tapered wing birds," he concluded. "Made 'em handle like Cessnas." Having learned this lesson already in Allegan, I could only nod in agreement.
All in all, we compiled a short list of squawks, but they were minor issues for a 25 year old airplane. None of them affected airworthiness...until we reached the static RPM check. At full throttle, with the brakes locked, the engine RPM was below the range specified per the type certificate data sheet. We checked the tachometer and found it to be accurate. Given that this was an airworthiness issue, I notified Bill. He agreed to cover the costs of any required repair. After an inaccurate tachometer, the next most likely cause for low static RPM is a propeller pitched higher than certified for the Warrior.
That evening, Bill and I launched in Warrior 481 on a test flight just as the sun was setting. The airplane climbed rapidly and flew straight and level hands-off. All instruments and radios were in good working condition. I was sure, at that point, that I would buy the airplane pending resolution of the RPM issue. After the test flight, we removed the propeller for inspection by the local Prop Shop. That night, I had a pleasant dinner with Bill and his family.
Closing the Deal
On March 11, I returned the rental car to a Hertz office in Edmond, OK. Bill drove me back to Guthrie so that we might close on the airplane. Closing was a non-event, involving a simple phone call to my lender to set things in motion. The FBO at Guthrie offered me the overnight use of their beat-up Mercury Sable courtesy car with the caveat that I should not drive it any farther than I wanted to walk. With the steering wheel wobbling in my hands, I returned to the hotel in the early afternoon. The first thing I did was telephone my Dad. When he answered the phone, I said something to the effect of, "hi, I'm in Oklahoma and I just bought an airplane." Because this was the first time I had ever mentioned buying an airplane to him, he was a bit stunned. Having exercised my flair for the dramatic, I slept the remainder of the afternoon. I was mentally and physically exhausted and got some much needed rest.
The Flight Home
For the journey home I planned a reasonably direct route that used airports as VFR landmarks (and pit stops!) while avoiding the several MOAs (military operation areas) in Missouri, southern Illinois and Indiana. There was no further planning left to do. It was time to fly home.
The moment of truth came after shimmying back to the airport in the old Sable. I pulled the airplane out of Bill's hangar and went to start it for a taxi to the fuel pump. I energized the electrical system, activated the fuel pump, turned the magneto switch to "both" and pushed in the key to engage the starter. Immediately, the vigorous sound of the fuel pump diminished. The prop completed one labored revolution before the electrical system audibly died entirely.
Nothing quenches the excitement of starting your airplane for the first time like a dead battery. With help from the FBO, we jumpstarted the airplane. I ran it for a while to charge up the battery, then taxied to the gas pump and shut the engine back down. After topping off the tanks, the engine started without difficulty. We surmised that the inspection on the previous day had overtaxed the battery.
Within minutes, Guthrie was at my tail and I was on-course for a 668 nautical mile journey back to Three Rivers (HAI). Prior to this, the longest straight line distance I had ever flown was the 125 nautical miles from Three Rivers to Ludington (LDM) flown five months earlier. Manipulating the controls of my new airplane, I was awash with an unforgettable feeling of excitement and trepidation. I had logged 30 minutes total in this airplane and I was about to fly it halfway across the country.
 |
| My approximate route home. |
I flew at 5500 feet for most of the way with the GPS showing a typical ground speed of 114 knots (131mph). The air was calm and clear and the airplane flew magnificently. I marveled at the sight of the Tulsa skyline protruding through a blanket of ground fog. I carried no camera on this trip, deciding that I should do without the distraction while at the controls of an unfamiliar aircraft.
Two hours later, just as planned, I let down into Bolivar, Missouri (M17). It was a crummy landing - I flared too high and plunked her onto the pavement. The folks in Bolivar were extremely friendly, consistent with the favorable comments I found about them on AirNav. They were delighted that I had chosen to stop there on my long trip and happy to hear that the on-line community had made so many favorable comments about their little restaurant / FBO. I had a great omelet with toast for lunch, deciding to forgo the daily special of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I topped off the tanks and noted that the fuel burn was about what I had anticipated. All was as it should have been.
With one third of the journey complete, I left Bolivar and decided to continue past my original intended stop near St. Louis. Leaving Missouri, I was amazed at the incredible flatness and general desolation of southern Illinois. I typically keep my eyes open for potential landing sites in the event of an engine failure. This was a challenging exercise while crossing over the Ozarks because there were not many clearings of adequate size available. But upon reaching Illinois, I quickly realized this exercise was moot - I could have put Warrior 481 down just about anywhere.
Flying near Urbana-Champaign, I was amused to hear what must have been a student air traffic controller. While directing aircraft making instrument approaches, the tentative vectors given by the younger voice were occasionally countermanded by a more experienced voice that must have belonged to the trainer.
Three hours out of Bolivar, I crossed the border into west central Indiana and let down toward Kentland, (50I). Though still outside of my home territory, tuning to Kentland's Unicom frequency of 122.8 brought forth a cacophony of radio calls from familiar places like Porter County, Knox, and Plymouth. These airports, all located in northern Indiana, shared 122.8 MHz with Three Rivers and I often heard them on the radio from home. It didn't look like home yet, but it was beginning to sound like it.
Kentland, Indiana
It was cold in Kentland; below freezing with a wind that stole my breath away. I was ill prepared for the weather after three days in balmy Oklahoma. I pulled on my jacket, put my head down against the wind and walked to the FBO. The older guy manning the FBO commented that he like my landing. "Both of 'em," he grinned. He loaned me the keys to the courtesy car. It was an old Crown Vic still sporting the spotlight from its days as a police cruiser. I had an uninspired dinner at a nearby Subway while trying to call Kristy with the cell phone. Unfortunately, all I managed to say was "I'm eating dinner at a Subway in Indiana…" when the battery died. But at least she knew I was alive.
Back at the Kentland airport, my call to the Terre Haute Flight Service Station revealed that the weather did not move out of southwest Michigan as predicted. Although the briefer told me that Kalamazoo was under IFR conditions, I could not obtain any other useful information from him. He would not provide me with AWOS data from Sturgis (IRS), which is about ten miles from Three Rivers. From the traffic calls on Kentland's Unicom, I knew that airports in northern Indiana were VFR. Unfortunately, my destination in Three Rivers was about halfway between those VFR Indiana airports and nasty IFR conditions in Kalamazoo. My destination in Three Rivers lay somewhere in between, its weather unknown. I decided to fly as far north as I could, stopping overnight in northern Indiana if necessary. I had already selected a couple of backup airports with nearby hotel facilities.
I departed Kentland and pushed the airplane to climb for all it was worth to escape the low altitude turbulence. An hour later, I was just south of Elkhart (EKM), Indiana. Even this close to the Michigan state line, the visibility remained excellent and I could see Elkhart's north-south runway with ease. If Three Rivers was socked-in, Elkhart would have been a good place to divert. The Class D airport was the one where I met the examiner for my private pilot checkride and, as a result, I was quite familiar with it.
"Triumphant" Homecoming
 |
| N21481 on the ramp at Three Rivers after her first night in Michigan. |
I looked down at the information I had gathered about Elkhart in preparation for an overnight diversion there. Upon seeing Three Rivers clear of the weather, I joyfully tossed it all over my shoulder and into the back seat. I was going to make it home after all.
Entering my old practice area, I began a descent over Constantine. The setting sun perched on my left wingtip and I momentarily wished that I had brought the camera to capture the moment. For the first time that day, my radio call rolled out with smooth familiarity.
"Three Rivers traffic, Warrior 21481 is five to the south, inbound for two seven. Three Rivers."
I activated the pilot controlled runway lighting and made my best landing of the day on runway 27. I was home, in my new airplane. Did I expect my arrival to be announced by a trumpet fanfare? No. But I was disappointed to find the place completely deserted and locked up for the night. So much for my triumphant homecoming.
I taxied to a tie-down, now almost in complete darkness. It was even colder here than it had been in central Indiana. After fighting with a pay-phone that would not accept any change, I managed to reach Kristy to ask that she pick me up. I returned to the ramp, pried frozen tie-down ropes up off of the tarmac, and managed to secure the airplane before Kristy arrived.
The next day, John found space in his hangar and my airplane spent a week waiting for its annual inspection under the same roof as my favorite Cessna 150s, N9327U and 8082F. But the story doesn't end there.
The Annual
The Warrior is type-certified for two propeller pitches: 58" and 60". When John pulled the spinner off of the propeller's hub, it was stamped as a 62". This higher pitch reduced the static RPM, but should have provided slightly higher speeds in cruise at a cost of higher fuel burn. I called the Guthrie mechanic and the Prop Shop that had "okayed" the propeller and discovered by interviewing them that there had been some poor communication on this issue during the pre-buy inspection. The question we really needed to answer back in Guthrie was whether or not the propeller was appropriate for the airplane. The mechanic in Guthrie did not check the stamp on the prop (he should have). The Prop Shop merely verified that the pitch of the blades was consistent with the stamp and, finding this to be the case, gave it their seal of approval.
In the course of the annual, John found several other items that had been missed during the pre-buy inspection. Most of them were minor. In the end, while the money I saved on the aircraft purchase price did not go toward a valve timing repair, it was quickly consumed (and then some) in the course of troubleshooting and correcting the low static RPM problem and several other minor issues.
On April 1, John released the airplane from annual. After paying my bill, I launched from Three Rivers and turned toward South Haven - Warrior 481's new home.
0 comments:
Post a Comment