General aviation manufacturers once offered nearly as many choices of twin-engine airplanes in their product line as singles. For the 1980 model year, Cessna built no less than 11 twin-engine piston models, Piper had eight twins in its lineup, and Beech sold seven different non-turbine twins. It was the heyday of personal flying; fuel was relatively cheap, new airplanes were affordable, and a lot of pilots were looking to upgrade.

But, following the overall malaise of the economy in the late 1970s, a general aviation decline was coming, and irrational exuberance quickly gave way to realistic parsimony. Twin-engine planes became ostentatious appurtenances, steadily waning in popularity during the last two decades of the century. Today, with demand for multi-engine planes at a low ebb, there are real bargains to be had in a 50-something-year-old twin, at least from an acquisition standpoint. A figure between $100,000 and $200,000 will buy a twin that once would have fetched twice that amount.

What was the original purpose of the light twin? And is there still a place for these capable machines, once sought-after business tools/family cruisers? And what brought about their fall from favor? Those are all big questions that we’ll try to answer. 

What Is A Light Twin, Anyway?

As a generalization, “light twins” are more or less defined by their 6,000-pound maximum takeoff weight. Different certification standards apply if the airplane weighs more than 6,000 pounds or has a landing-configuration stall speed in excess of 61 knots. In that case, it must produce a single-engine climb rate at 5,000 feet MSL equivalent to its Vso squared times .027 (not much) and, for post-1991 certifications, a climb gradient of 1.5%. If the twin-engine airplane weighs no more than 6,000 pounds or stalls at less than 61 kts (70 mph), the FAA does not require ANY capability of sustained level flight at 5,000 feet with one of the two engines failed—merely that engine-out performance be determined, good or bad. This is, needless to say, a much lower certification bar for manufacturers to shimmy under, so 6,000 pounds is a bit of a magical figure.

In addition, the airplane must be controllable with the “most critical” engine windmilling at Vmc(a). Except for very early twins, this Vmc speed is marked with a red radial on the airspeed indicator, and a similar blue radial is depicted to show Vyse, the speed that produces the best single-engine rate-of-climb, or at least the minimum descent rate, depending on conditions.

During the 1970s, it became fashionable to furnish turbocharged engines on twins, not so much to enable high-altitude flight as to enhance their single-engine rate of climb and service ceiling.

All of these foregoing distinctions aside, for discussion purposes, we often simply consider a light twin to be a multi-engine plane used for personal and business travel, one probably intended to be flown by its owner rather than crewed.

While the manufacturers’ marketing departments and design engineers will have determined, sometimes through creative flight testing, a positive single-engine rate of climb and generous engine-out service ceiling, in order to show some favorable brochure figures, the experienced factory test pilot will have had a new well-running airplane to generate these numbers; be assured that your actual mileage may vary.

So long as both engines are healthy, light twins fly with élan and feed a pilot’s ego quite nicely. Control forces may be somewhat heavy and response a bit ponderous, but the heavier wing loading and necessarily larger tail feathers make for a stable, comfortable ride. Most of the upgrading pilot’s transition training will focus on handling the airplane with one engine failed, learning how to maintain control, and maximizing any remaining performance.

A Twin By Design?

For the majority of the light twin models, I have always divided them into one of two categories: those designed from the outset to be twin-engine airplanes and those developed from single-engine predecessors. It follows that those in the first classification will have somewhat better cockpit layouts and (if properly designed) more big-plane handling. Those “twinned” from singles will have familiar interiors for the transitioning pilot who is moving up in sibling order and may fly somewhat like a mature version of the single-engine foundation airplane.

Examples of purpose-built twins are the Aero Commanders, Beech’s Twin Bonanza and Duke, the twin Cessnas, Piper’s Apache, Aztec and Navajo airplanes, and the Smith Aerostars. Twins grown from singles would include Beech’s Duchess, Travel Air and Baron, and Piper’s Twin Comanche, Seneca and Seminole. Somewhat in between are the unique Cessna Skymaster and the Grumman Cougar, both of which bore some single-forerunner relationship but became more twin-like in execution.

At the risk of over-generalizing, I’ve found that ab-initio twins are more content to accelerate well-past Vmc(a) with all three feet on the ground during takeoff, requiring a purposeful rotation into an intentional liftoff and will land equally predictably if loaded properly. Most of the second-generation light twins, those grown from a single, prefer to fly themselves off at or near minimum-control speed and may tend to wheelbarrow onto the nosewheel during liftoff and touchdown, particularly if loaded to the forward CG limit. In all cases, you have to understand the particular demands of each airplane type and fly it accordingly.

Why A Twin In The First Place?

The most prima facie obvious justification for having two engines is to negate the single’s inherent hazard of failure in its one and only powerplant. The theory being, the twin will be able to successfully continue flight on a single engine so that it can wind up on an airport instead of in a field. When flying at night, in low IMC, or over water and inhospitable terrain, the twin-engine airplane bestows a measure of confidence onto its occupants.

The dirty little secret of light twins is that as airplanes scale up in payload, speed and range capability, the real purpose of a second engine is simply to make the plane fly. It takes all of the combined horsepower to haul the extra people and fuel in the desired manner. The perceived safety enhancement of redundant powerplants is secondary from a design standpoint because the vast majority of the airplane’s life is spent with both engines running.

Consider a twin-engine airplane with 200-hp engines that requires a minimum of 150 hp to maintain level flight. With both engines at full power, there’s 250 extra horsepower available to create an exhilarating climb and cruise speed. When one engine fails, only 50 extra horsepower is available, resulting in an anemic climb rate and a much-depressed service ceiling.

And so, demonstrating the light twin-engine airplane to a prospective buyer moving up from a high-performance single always focused on the acceleration during takeoff, rapid climb rate and high-speed cruise, with a glance directed at the big cabin following behind. That enchantment with miniature-airliner capability is what sold twin-engine airplanes. The engine-out performance may have been given but passing reference, perhaps with a quick demonstration of a zero-thrust maintenance of level flight, always with a light load to enhance its success.

The other attractions of twin-engine airplanes over singles are their redundant sources of electrical power, deicing and pressurization, greater seating and baggage capacity, a bigger instrument panel and less engine vibration transmitted to the cabin. The two-motor airplane’s wing and power loadings make it a great instrument-flying platform.

Why Are Twins Passé?

When it comes to getting the most bang for the buck in terms of operational and ownership costs, the logic meter swings toward a high-performance single-engine airplane, so long as you’re only carrying a couple or a small family. The realities of living during the recessionary economic cycles we saw in the latter decades of the 20th century left personal twins fading fast in popularity. It wasn’t just the cost of the increased fuel burn. The fact is, putting a twin in the hangar doesn’t double the ownership cost of a single; it easily triples it or more. One might even start with needing a bigger hangar because twins tend to be wider and taller. And then there’s the matter of insurance cost or even its availability.

On top of that, twin-engine safety, as it turned out, has proven to be somewhat elusive. Although successful returns to an airport with an engine feathered often go unreported, when a less-than-skilled pilot loses control of a single-engine twin, the accident tends to be horrific in outcome. So, the fatal accident rate after an engine failure is much worse in twins than in singles. Not only does the twin with wing-mounted engines require precise and correct flying when one engine quits, but any resultant crash will occur with exponentially more kinetic energy. Single-engine planes are, by and large, limited to 61 knots maximum stall speed in landing configuration; twins have no such certification requirement and may arrive at 90 knots even if flown into the ground under control. If you’re looking to survive an accident, plan to do it in a single.  

Insurance underwriters are only interested in exposure to risk of loss and the cost of meeting outlays to cover claims. More seats, more expensive accidents, more chance of a pilot’s skill not being up to the challenge of flying the twin—all of these mean insurance can be a problem. To be insurable, the aspiring multi-engine pilot will probably have to go through initial and recurrent type-specific training, even though they have satisfied the FAA by adding a multi-engine rating to their license. 

As much as anything, the decline in light-twin popularity may have stemmed from the “corporatization” of general aviation manufacturing. Airplane companies are no longer run by designers and pilots who are justly proud of the company’s aviation portfolio, of which twins were a natural progression. Today’s business-oriented management saw an excess of models overlapping in the product line and reduced the offerings to streamline operations. No longer does manufacturer advertising promote fast, flashy twins to jaded single-engine pilots, focusing instead on sensible singles. On paper, at least, most of the twin’s work can be done with a big single.

Are Twins Available And A Good Choice?

The post Used Light Twins Roundup appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Before light twins came along, the only entry-level twin-engine business plane would have been a Model 18 Twin Beech. Clearly, the market needed something smaller that the bosses could fly on their own. The oldest light twin designs date from 1952, with the introduction of the Aero Commander and the Beech Twin Bonanza. Both used geared six-cylinder Lycomings with Bendix pressure carburetors, producing 260 hp per side; later versions of them benefited from increased horsepower and fuselage stretches. While great airplanes for their time, these early twins with geriatric Lycoming GO-series engines are not recommended for a first-timer.

The Commander, A Real Twin

Ted Smith’s impressive Aero Commander, built in Bethany, Oklahoma, by Aero Design & Engineering and subsequently by Rockwell International, was a true executive-twin design, with a cockpit set up like an airliner’s—control columns sprouting from the floor, an aft entrance door, engines and props following behind the front office. Easy to board and a dream to fly (once you learn to taxi with the power steering), it’s a pilot’s airplane. 

The Commanders had no earlier company history of single-engine design, so they were a fresh departure, incorporating a light-bomber ramp presence. The fuel supply and baggage hold were located where a bomb bay would have been. The high wing and huge tail made for stable cruising, but the overhanging engines and wing darkened the five-seat aft cabin. Wing spar Ads were an issue, but most have been fixed long ago. Look for a later one with direct-drive Lycoming engines, like the 500B, U and S models built in the 1960s and ’70s. Twin Commander Corporation and its affiliates support the piston and turboprop Commanders.

The Hot Rod”€”Ted Smith‘s Aerostar

After visionary aircraft designer Ted Smith originated the Aero Commander, he went on to create the Aerostar twin line. He envisioned Aerostar models from a single to a jet, all based on his mid-wing speedster. First appearing in 1969 as the Aerostar 600 and turbocharged 601, the airplanes went through multiple ownerships over 15 years of production, including Mooney and Piper. 

If you want to fly fast and high, an Aerostar is probably the ultimate answer to your needs. The most popular models, the 601P, 602P and 700P, are pressurized to take advantage of the design’s potential. It’s a stout, well-built airframe, seating six and using the Lycoming IO-540 series of a nominal 290-hp (the 700P had 350-hp engines). Capable of 260 knots (300 mph) up high, an Aerostar easily tops 220 knots at medium altitudes. 

After Piper Aircraft ended Aerostar production in 1984, parts and technical support shifted to Aerostar Aircraft in Idaho, and there is an active owner’s group to share experiences. Maintenance requires specific knowledge and familiarity with the design, as Aerostars are compact and crowded to work on. 

Beech‘s Lighter Twins

Notwithstanding its name, the 1950s Beech Twin Bonanza had nothing in common with a Bonanza other than the planform of its outer wing panels. Original seating was Buick-like, three across in front and back, boarded by climbing retractable stairs onto the wing and stepping down through a side door. From the cockpit, it’s easy to see the T-Bone foundation of the King Air. Unless it is converted, you’ll have to accommodate the needs of the geared Lycoming engines that powered all Twin Bonanzas.

Over the years, much has been made of the Beech Twins’ out-of-order power quadrant and gear/flaps arrangement. It all began with the 1937 Model 18 Twin Beech; Walter Beech simply copied the layout of contemporary airliners, which had the throttles in the middle, with props on the left and mixtures on the right, so two pilots had equal access to the go-levers. The gear switch was to the right of the quadrant because it was a co-pilot’s job to move it. The 1952 Model 50 Twin Bonanza simply followed suit, and so did the Travel Air and Baron that came later. You just learn to deal with it.

By the late 1950s, it was obvious that a Twin Bonanza had become too much airplane for many step-up buyers, so a true Twin Bonanza was needed. In 1958, Beech introduced the Model 95, first called the “Badger” but quickly renamed “Travel Air.” To develop it, the  Bonanza wing was widened slightly, 180-hp Lycoming engines were mounted on each side, and a big conventional tail from the T-34 military trainer was fitted, leaving the Bonanza’s four-seat fuselage essentially intact. With its center-mounted throw-over control column, the instrument panel had to be expanded vertically to accommodate the power levers and extra gauges, with an enlarged fuel selector adjacent to the pilots’ knees.

Down the street in Wichita, Cessna had been selling a bunch of its model 310 twins, which featured six-cylinder Continental powerplants, so in 1961, Beech strapped a larger and swept vertical fin onto the Travel Air, mounted 260-hp Continental IO-470s, and created the Model 55 Baron. Ostensibly seating six by shifting baggage into the nose, the Baron was still a Bonanza at heart, but it gave Beech a competitor and was a joy to fly with its increased power. When the Bonanza 36 came along with side doors and six seats in 1968, it was logical to expand the Baron similarly into the 1970 Baron 58, which is still being built. Along the way, Barons have acquired available turbocharging and pressurization, an updated instrument panel arrangement and 300-hp engines. My favorite Baron is still the B55.

With the Travel Air out of production since 1968, Beech Aircraft needed a lighter twin than the burly Baron. The solution was the Duchess, a twin-engine conversion of the Sierra light retractable. The new tee-tailed four-seater with doors on both sides debuted in 1978. Using counter-rotating 180-hp O-360 Lycomings, it did a great job as a trainer and personal runabout, lasting for five years and 437 units of production before Beech ceased production in 1983.

Beyond the Barons, Beech added the pressurized Duke to its line in 1968. It might be considered more of a “heavy light twin” due to its weight and complexity. Purpose-built as an ultimate personal transport for the Beechcraft buyer who was ready for more but maybe not ready for a King Air, it offered airliner amenities and remains highly sought after.

Twin Cessnas

Cessna Aircraft, meanwhile, was no stranger to light twins, having built thousands of wood-and-steel T-50 utility twins mostly for the war effort, from 1939 to 1944. Visionary Cessna president Dwane Wallace no doubt knew Bill Piper’s company was developing a light twin for the business pilot, so he leapt to the fore with the radical-for-its-time Cessna 310, introduced in 1954. Wallace didn’t like having fuel tanks near the cabin, thus his 310 featured wingtip tanks, adding an end-plate effect to the short wings. The tall, completely enclosed landing gear folded away electrically, and the compact engine nacelles featured jet-like overwing exhaust afterbodies. DC-3-style split flaps added necessary drag for landing.

Unsullied in design influence by Cessna’s high-wing singles, the 310’s cockpit was wide, the pilot’s station reached by slipping between the seats, as with the T-50. The throttle and trim quadrant were at knee height, fuel selectors were recessed on the floor, and instruments and radios were accommodated across the broad dash. Seating was for three in back, two in front, with baggage in the tail.

Pursuing Wallace’s canny marketing strategies, the Cessna 310 continually evolved from its basic 1954 design in small and large ways. Power advanced from 240 carbureted horsepower to 260 fuel-injected ponies, eventually to 285 hp per side, with optional turbocharging. Fuel tankage was augmented by auxiliary in-wing cells, the tip tanks and vertical tail were slanted, the nose was enlarged, and storage lockers were added behind the engine nacelles, which had gone to underwing exhausts. Every year, Cessna added something to the 310 to entice buyers to trade up to a newer model.

The 310 begat prodigiously, beginning with the 1962 turbocharged 320, followed by the 1965 cabin-class 411, the 1967 eight-seat 401/402, the 1968 pressurized Cessna 421, the 1970 414 and the 1972 340, all tracing back to their 1954 progenitor. After the 1981 model year, Cessna replaced the old 310 with a promising, modernized T303 Crusader, produced for only three years; it was a very well-mannered light twin that really “coulda been a contendah” in better times.

When it comes to the best choice of short-nose Cessna 310s, I like the 1970-’71 310Q, with a straight-up nosegear for easier taxiing control and 200 pounds more gross weight than the 310P. The long-nose 310R, introduced in 1975, has more utility but not the ramp appeal. One has to learn to manage the fuel systems of the tip-tanked Cessna twins, but there are otherwise few shortcomings. Only the early “tuna tank” models had any noticeable (but minor) issues with roll-control feel. 

We’d be remiss without mention of Cessna’s outlier Skymaster light twin, often derided as the “Mixmaster” or “Skysmasher.” In concept, it brilliantly eliminated all the objections posed by wing-mounted engines; by placing the two engines in line, on both ends of the fuselage, there could be no engine-out loss of control from asymmetric thrust or tardy decisions by a slow-acting pilot. That Cessna could pull it off and keep production going for 17 years is a testimony to tenacity. 

Skymasters were and are as easy to fly as a heavy single, albeit they only sluggishly maintain altitude on one engine, particularly if the more effective rear engine is lost. And they look rakishly nice in flight, like a P-38 fighter plane, once the gear is up. But keeping the engines fore-and-aft meant all their noise and vibration was transmitted to the cabin, and the high-revving IO-360 210-hp Continentals carried their signature howl to ground observers. Maintenance access was crowded in the allotted space, and the twin-boom configuration caused some annoying “boom shake.” The crowded six seats had to be accessed from only a single door up front, rendering the Skymaster basically a four-place airplane if any baggage was carried. 

Still and all, if the Skymaster’s quirks are understood and accommodated, it’s a credible performer, even available in turbocharged and pressurized versions. That said, it’s still a twin and will require considerable expenditure of funds to keep in the air. Avoid the many add-on mods for Skymasters, which only add to the plane’s complexity.

Grumman Cougar Light Twin

Coming late to the twin party in 1978, the GA-7 Cougar was developed just before Grumman sold its general aviation interests to what became Gulfstream Aerospace, which actually built the Cougar. However, the GA-7 is usually referred to as a “Grumman” in keeping with the single-engine airplanes produced by the company’s previous proprietors. Built for only two years and 110 units before Gulfstream abandoned light airplanes, the little Cougar managed to give creditable performance on a mere 160 horsepower per side. 

The four-seat cabin could be reached by a wingwalk and door on the right side. The landing gear stowed with an electrically driven hydraulic powerpack, while the flaps were electric. Baggage compartments were in the nose and aft fuselage, and the rear seats could fold flat for cargo. The Cougar’s full-fuel payload was minimal, thanks to 118-gallon fuel tanks that were rather superfluous given the O-320’s minimal fuel consumption. 

As a twin trainer, the Cougar had a lot going for it. Its mediocre single-engine performance encouraged strict adherence to engine-out procedures to get any S/E climb at all. Yet its powerful rudder and low power delayed the Vmc encounter to below stalling speed, rendering it irrelevant. Multi-engine airplanes, even light ones, are not required to demonstrate spin recovery for certification, so one doesn’t normally want to approach a stall condition, let alone one with asymmetric power. Not so with the GA-7.

The Cougar was a pussycat to fly and teach in, with none of the single-engine fixed-gear Grummans’ sliding-canopies and swiveling-nosegear quirks. It’s too bad more of them weren’t built. It could have been a great foundation for a high-performance single.

Piper‘s Twins

Piper’s twin-engine airplanes ran the gamut from very light to super muscular. In the early 1950s, seeing the sales opportunity in businessman pilots wanting to step up from their Tri-Pacers, Piper was inspired by the potential in a little twin design it had picked up from its acquisition of Stinson Aircraft. Reworked with more horsepower, a bigger single tailfin and all-metal construction, the resulting Apache initiated a tradition of bestowing Native American names on Piper’s products. 

Introduced in 1954, the Piper PA-23’s had little four-cylinder 150-hp engines that kept it from directly competing with Cessna’s flashy 310, but it could carry five sedately in a roomy cabin. With a 160-hp upgrade in 1958, it was built for eight years. Using the same basic airframe, the follow-on Aztec came out in 1960 with 250-hp six-cylinder engines and a stabilator-type horizontal tail derived from the Comanche high-performance single. With the Aztec B’s longer nose in 1962 and the Aztec C’s 260-hp fuel-injected engines in 1964, Piper soon had a very capable six-seat light twin, remaining in production until 1981. There was even a half-Aztec economy version with 235-hp carbureted engines, the Apache 235, built from 1962 to 1965.

In 1963, Piper introduced a successor to the Apache, a twin-engine conversion of the Comanche designed by Ed Swearingen. With 160-hp fuel-injected engines, the little Twin Comanche seated four in comfort (six with less comfort, using baggage-compartment seats in the 1966 Twin Comanche B), cruising 20 knots faster than the old Apache with the same horsepower. Like the Apache, the Twin Comanche didn’t offer much single-engine performance, but it delivered twin-engine pizzazz on a total fuel burn of 15 gph, with appealing ramp presence.

The PA-30 Twin Comanche was eventually given counter-rotating engines to tame some of the engine-out handling shortcomings encountered when it was pushed into a twin-trainer role, becoming the PA-39 Twin Comanche C/R. The “Twinkie” was never as forgiving as the old “Sweet Potato” Apache, but given due respect, it did a great job.

After a massive hurricane-induced flood ruined Piper’s Pennsylvania factory in 1972, the Comanche production line was permanently closed. Fortunately, the Florida-based division of the company had a twin-engine adaptation of the Cherokee Six already in production called the PA-34 Seneca. With 200-hp normally aspirated engines, the Seneca married the PA-32 single’s wide-body fuselage with retractable gear sized up from the Arrow. The single-engine retractable PA-32R Lance didn’t show up until 1976. By that time, the Seneca’s mission had been redefined from a personal twin into a more utilitarian role.

The original Seneca had seven seats, like the Cherokee Six, but it couldn’t use them all until the gross weight was raised from 4,000 pounds to 4,200. That increase pretty much wiped out the Seneca’s already-anemic single-engine performance, so in 1975, the Seneca II appeared with turbocharged six-cylinder Continentals, limited to 200-hp at sea level but capable of generating 215 hp at 12,000 feet. That restored some engine-out service ceiling, even with another 370 pounds of gross weight. 

Problem was, the Seneca II’s zero-fuel weight limitation restricted it from hauling full passenger loads. The solution was the 1981 Seneca III’s stronger structure; coupled with 220-hp engines, it finally became the Aztec replacement charter operators were looking for. 

Meanwhile, because the Seneca had outgrown its original personal twin and multi-engine trainer mission, Piper got creative, and in 1979, it came up with the PA-44 Seminole, a twin-engine variant of the Arrow light retractable single. A simpler four-seater with carbureted 180-hp four-cylinder Lycoming engines, the Seminole has become the near-universal twin trainer and is a comfortable step-up for single-engine PA-28 pilots. 

Although its gross weight exceeded the 6,000-pound light-twin criterion, the PA-31 Navajo gave Piper a cabin-class utility twin for business and charter users. First appearing in 1967, the Navajo could seat eight or nine powered by 310-hp turbocharged Lycomings or, in 1968, optional 300-hp normally aspirated engines. Over the years, it was stretched to seat 10, pressurized and upgraded to counter-rotating 325-hp engines and even grew into the turboprop-powered Cheyenne series.

By the early 1980s, the demand for light twin-engine airplanes had dwindled, and the number of models being produced had drifted away; only the Beech Baron 58 and Piper Seneca and Seminole endured into the 21st century. The large number of used legacy twins built in the 1970s provides plenty of choices for those would-be owners who need, or just want, two engines to carry big loads far and fast or are seeking the redundancies offered by that extra motor. 

Used Light Twins Round Up

8 Great Used Planes

The post Choosing An Old Light Twin appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

If you’re in the market for a used Cirrus piston single, it can be daunting to decide which Generation (or Segment) fits your mission and budget: SR20 (200 or 215 HP), SR22 (310 HP), SR22TN (310 HP Turbo Normalized) or the top-of-the-line SR22T (315 HP Turbocharged). Cirrus Aircraft has only been delivering aircraft since 1999, and every single Cirrus ever produced is installed with a whole air-craft parachute, which the company calls the Cirrus Airframe Parachute System (CAPS). The innovation doesn’t stop there. Over the 20 years it has been building its SR20 and SR22 singles, Cirrus made hundreds of major and minor improvements. CAPS has been standard on all models, and it remains the most innovative and unique feature of a Cirrus Aircraft.

Cirrus Aircraft periodically introduced a new Generation when a significant number of improvements came out. The original version wasn’t a G1 until the G2 was introduced in 2004. The G3 launched in mid-2007 and skipped to G5 in 2013. The current generation is a G6. So, where did the G4 go? It was skipped as the number 4 is considered unlucky in the Asian culture because it sounds a lot like the Chinese word for “death,” and as a result, Chinese buildings often lack a fourth floor (just as American buildings sometimes skip the 13th). Brokers will often refer to the 2009-2012 segments as “G4” because when the Flight Into Known Icing (FIKI) was introduced in 2009, it proved to be a huge market differentiator. The SR22 has been the world’s bestselling aircraft for 17 years, and over 8,000 piston SR-series aircraft have been produced.

On the resale market, which is the hottest it has ever been, over 1,000 Cirruses have exchanged ownership in the past 12 months. The normal inventory of pre-owned Cirruses for sale at any one point in time is typically about 250 out of a fleet size of 6,000 aircraft (in North America), equating to roughly 4% of the fleet for sale. As with many other sectors of the economy, supply has dwindled significantly due to massive demand, with current listings (at the time of this writing) at 77 units, and about half of those are “under contract” awaiting prebuy evaluations prior to closing. This equates to less than 1% of the fleet being available for purchase, so if you see what you want, make an offer immediately contingent on a prebuy. The key is knowing what you want ahead of time. Read on. 

The following is a “CliffsNotes” version of the different generations of the piston models and their current values and availabilities. Aerista is a platinum preowned partner of Cirrus Aircraft and has detailed guides for the changes by model and the original pricing. Aerista’s proprietary pricing database, Aeristametrics, tracks thousands of SR and SF asking prices and closing prices and developed adjustment factors for about 20 parameters other than airframe and engine hours, so Aeristametrics can determine market values in each segment of the market with great accuracy. Sellers, lenders and acquisition clients rely on Aeristametrics to correctly value aircraft in the current market.

G1 (1999-2003)

The SR20 was first delivered in July 1999, and the total production that year was only nine aircraft. This grew to 90 in 2000, 270 in 2001, 350 in 2002, and 450 in 2003.

The delivery of the SR20 in 1999 brought much fanfare due to introduction, standardization and integration of the airframe parachute, glass panel, graphical GPS/nav/comm and sophisticated autopilot.

Avionics (standard and/or options)

Six-pack

Digital MFD

GNS430 (or 420 or 250) Multifunction Navigator/digital radio

Autopilot

Stec 55 (or 30)

Ice Protection

TKS (SR22 only)

The SR22, with its 310-hp engine, was first delivered in July 2001. Inadvertant Ice Protection (TKS) was optional in 2002. The first Avidyne Primary Flight Display (PFD) was introduced in March 2003.

The first special-edition Cirrus was a run of 100 Centennial Edition SR22s in 2003 with dual glass, TKS and a special linen white paint and tan interior to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Wright brothers’ first flight.

Current G1 prices:

SR20 $180K to $220K with average of $200K

SR22 $210K to $350K with average of $300K

SR22 Centennial Edition $245K to $300K with average of $290K

G2 (2004-2007)

The Generation 2, introduced in early 2004, was primarily a new fuselage design for Cirrus. Based on dynamic crash testing done at NASA Langley, the old 90-degree firewall configuration, which had been and is largely still standard to every other aircraft manufacturer, was changed to a 30-degree bevel to allow the fuselage to slide forward on a crash landing instead of digging in. This also reduced cooling drag through the engine compartment and slightly increased the cruise speed. With the new fuselage, access to the CAPS compartment was designed through the baggage bulkhead, eliminating the requirement on the G1 CAPS repacks to pop a cover off, rebonding the cover on and doing touch-up painting every 10 years.

Additional avionics upgrades became available to the Avidyne MFD, including XM Weather and Audio, Enhanced Terrain Avoidance Warning System (ETAWS) and CMAX Approach Plates in 2004. The PFD gained a flight director, and airbag seatbelts became available in 2005. Factory air conditioning and semi-portable oxygen became popular options in 2006. The six-point engine mount reducing engine vibration became standard. Factory installation of the Tornado Alley STC for its turbo-normalizing (TN) system with dual turbos and intercoolers also became an option in late 2006.

Cirrus produced its second special edition with a limited production of 50 Signature Edition SR22s with racing stripes on an all-sterling or white paint scheme. It was completed with the signatures of Alan and Dale Klapmeier, co-founders of Cirrus Design. This also offered the factory installation of the Tornado Alley STC for their TN system with dual turbos and intercoolers.

Current G2 prices:

SR20 $220K to $260K with average of $230K

SR22 $280K to $600K with average of $340K

SR22TN $250K to $400K with average of $340K

G3 (2007-2012, sorta)

In April 2007, the Generation 3 was introduced with a new wing. A stronger and lighter carbon fiber spar expanded fuel capacity from 81 to 92 gallons. Spar length increased wingtip to wingtip, and the fresh air inlet was moved from the leading edge of the wing to the cowling. This allowed for about 10 more feet of TKS panel on the inadvertent ice protection panels. The wing dihedral grew to allow for removal of the rudder-aileron interconnect. The landing gear came closer, raising the fuselage 3 inches and the wingtips 5 inches. 

During this time, Cirrus engineers had been working on three new avionics systems for certification; Avidyne R9, L3 Smartdeck and Cirrus Perspective by Garmin. The recession of 2008 started, and Cirrus could only support one, so in May 2008, Cirrus offered the option of Cirrus Perspective by Garmin, and it became standard in 2009 due to the high demand. This included a digital autopilot, yaw damper, synthetic vision and a highly redundant electrical system. Later, in November 2008, the Enhanced Vision System (mixing Infrared and low light into a display on the MFD) became an option.

Current G3 prices 

(on average, Cirrus Perspective avionics carries $50K premium over Avidyne):

SR20 (2007-2016) $210K to $420K with average of $350K

SR22 (2007-2008) $340K to $520K with average of $360K

SR22TN (2007-2008) $300K to $495K with average of $390K

G4

After three years of testing, FIKI became certified and offered as an option in January of 2009. The fluid capacity doubled from 4 gallons to 8 gallons, dual pumps were installed, the vertical tail and elevator horns were protected, the stall warning was heated, and the windshield had dedicated sprayers. This was such a game-changer in the capability of the Cirrus that brokers, responding to the way buyers hone the search, often define this segment as a G4.

Factory Turbocharging 

In 2010, Cirrus installed the Continental TSIO-550K to create the SR22T. This was a newly developed engine by Teledyne Continental Motors, putting out 315-hp. It was also quieter due to a max 2,500 RPM setting. Cirrus designed an oleo nose strut also to dampen nose landing gear shocks. The Garmin avionics now incorporated Electronic Stability Protection (ESP) Autopilot stall protection, hypoxia detection and auto descent, among other enhancements.

In 2011, Cirrus produced 10 commemorative edition aircraft to celebrate 10 years of the SR22 series, and also the 5,000th Cirrus was delivered.

ADS-B Out became standard in 2011, and ADS-B In became available in 2012. One of the most-desired improvements for passengers came in January 2012 with the 60/40 flex seating, the slightly widened seating area allowing for three smaller passengers in the back seats. The seats were able to recline and had automotive-type seatbelts. Lastly, the seats had the “LATCH” system to allow easy installation of infant car seats.

Current 2009-2012 “G4” Prices:

SR22 $390K to $540K with average of $480K

SR22T $400K to $585K with average of $510K

G5

In 2013, Cirrus introduced the G5 SR22 model, which featured an increase of 200 pounds in useful load. Other than FIKI, no improvement was better received. After years of design and testing of a larger canopy, the CAPS system incorporated a larger, more powerful rocket with electronic versus percussion ignition, allowing the system to handle 3,600 pounds. The spar and landing gear also were beefed up to support the greater weight. The redesign also allowed for deploying 50% flaps at 150 KIAS instead of the previous limit of 119 KIAS. Pilots flying into Class B airports appreciated this when they were mixed in with jet traffic and asked to “keep their speed up.”

The 2014 Cirrus offered the new Beringer wheels and brakes. The brakes were higher temperature tolerant, lighter weight and had greater stopping power. The tires were now tubeless, removing one rare but frustrating source of flat tires in the field.

The digital 4-in-1 standby gauges, four USB outlets and enhanced high UV blocking windows were also introduced in 2015.

After several years of “slam shut”-style automotive doors, the 2016 Cirrus incorporated a positive door latch, virtually eliminating the occasional door pops if improperly closed. This also featured a key fob allowing for remote locking and unlocking of the doors, with the added benefit of turning on convenience lights. Garmin’s Flight Stream 210 incorporated two-way interface between an iPad and the Garmin avionics. Angle of attack was now displayed on the PFD of FIKI aircraft.

G6

By 2017, the basic Garmin G1000 architecture in Cirrus Perspective was more than a decade old and at the limits of its growth. Generation 6 introduced Cirrus Perspective+ by Garmin, which used the new Garmin NXi technology. The new hardware was able to process data 10X faster than the previous G1000 units and allow for more functions, detail and capability. For example, VFR Sectionals and IFR Enroute Charts could be displayed on the MFD, and panning and zooming were effortless. The keyboard changed from alphanumeric to a true QWERTY layout. The dual Aircraft Heading Reference Systems (AHRS) and Air Data Computers (ADC) were integrated into a dual ADAHRS. The XM Weather was animated, and a graphical weight and balance calculator was on the MFD at startup. Surface Watch gave aural and visual runway warnings. Flight Stream 510 allowed use of the Garmin database concierge for updates.

Pilot and passengers alike admired the new Spectra LED wingtip lighting and wigwag features in flight.

G6 SR20

The SR20 also enjoyed an important change in 2017, as Cirrus swapped the six-cylinder 200-hp Continental IO-360ES for the four-cylinder 215-hp Lycoming IO-390. This gave the SR20 a max weight increase of 100 pounds, to 3,150 pounds. Combined with the lighter weight of the Lycoming engine and composite propellor, the useful load increased by 150 pounds.

The G6 was further improved in 2018 with multipane MFD functionality, the “Green Donut” Vref speed cue on the PFD for approach speed management and Auto Level if the pilot strays outside the ESP envelope for longer than 20 seconds.

2019 introduced the 600-foot “CAPS Available” callout on takeoff, GPS above ground level altitude readouts and a glide range ring. The Cirrus Perspective+ by Garmin also allowed numerous other benefits in the avionics interface and information.

The highlight of the 2020 model year was the Cirrus IQ, which allows the pilot to use an app to check the fuel, battery and TKS levels of the aircraft right from their phone. An optional 4-blade SR22T propeller from Hartzell also became available.

Current G6 Prices:

SR20 $450K to $595K with average of $570K

SR22 $685K to $950K with average of $790K

SR22T $810K to $1.15MM with average of $880K

While the Cirrus SR market was hot prior to the COVID era, the pandemic gave thousands of business owners and professionals more control of their time and added incentive to fly their own planes. Many took advantage by learning to fly. Many of them then got into aircraft ownership with a preowned Cirrus G1 to G3. This allowed the sellers of those aircraft to move into a G5, G6 or order a new Cirrus. Because of the dozens of major improvements and hundreds of un-
seen design improvements, many Cirrus owners seem to upgrade a generation or a model every two to three years, and this resale value remains strong for years to come. It will take years to return to a normal availability of 4% to 5% on the market from the current 1%, so if you are looking at preowned, now is as good a time as any to enter the market.

Safe flying!

Twenty Years Of Cirrus Piston Singles

The post Cirrus Piston Singles Buyers Guide appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

AA-5B Tiger

There’s no top of this list of planes they totally need to bring back, but if there were, the Tiger would be right up there. The four-seat, all-metal, roll-back canopy low-winger was one of the greatest accomplishments of the late Jim Bede’s aircraft design legacy. It was revolutionary—its unassuming looks fool people into thinking it’s plain vanilla, but it’s got a free-castoring nosewheel, bonded wing skins and lightweight, expanded-aluminum airframe structures. And it flew great. Introduced by American Aviation of Yankee fame, the AA-5 first flew in the summer of 1970 and had its first keys tossed to a customer the next year, but the first model called the Tiger hit the airways a few years later. By then, it had gotten the correct engine, the 180-hp Lycoming, which gave it the kind of Skylane-level cruise speeds and sprightly climb performance that made owners fall in love with it. I flew one for a few years. It might be my favorite airplane ever. Nostalgia, perhaps, but it’s a great ride. Surprisingly roomy, visibility to die for, low maintenance costs and a great instrument platform. No fewer than five different companies have signed up to build the Tiger after their predecessors shut the hangar doors. It’s currently not in production, and with 3,282 built over 35 years (with several long pauses along the way), there really aren’t that many out there. Bring it back! 

Beechcraft V-35 V-Tail Bonanza

Some Bonanza fanatics think that there’s no such thing as a Bonanza without a V-tail. The original Bonanza was, indeed, a V-tail model. Introduced in 1947, it was light, fast, modern and easy to fly and is arguably the most revolutionary light plane in aviation history. And for the next decade and a half, if you wanted a Beechcraft Bonanza (and we are not counting the Twin Bonanza), the V-tailed Model 35 was the sole menu item. Straight-tail “Bonanzas” started showing up in the early ’60s, and there are so many arguments to be made as to why that configuration is an improvement over the V-tail. Models 33 and 36 are each more stable than the forked-tailed version. They have better safety records, there are fewer structural problems with their tails, and the tendency to Dutch roll is gone. But the V-35 is just so beautiful. It handles like a bobsled on a smooth and fast track, it’s beautifully appointed and, from an aesthetic perspective, it’s just the coolest. A real work of art in the hangar. But it hasn’t been around since 1982, when the last one rolled off the line from Wichita’s east-side airplane maker. Don’t expect a resurrection anytime soon. Beech built an enormous amount of Bonanzas over the decades, more than 10,000, in fact, and many are still flying. But wouldn’t a brand-new Bonanza be the best? 

Varga Kachina

Here’s one you might not be familiar with, and if that’s the case, it’s certainly understandable. Between the plane’s introduction in 1948 and its last hurrah in 1982, fewer than 200 of the comely little tandem two-seaters hit the sky, and most of those were built between 1975 and 1982. A lot of them are still flying, probably right around 100 of them, and it’s easy to see why. The thing is just the cutest little bug of a plane you’ve ever seen. At the same time, it’s also got this strangely military feel to it, probably because it resembles in general configuration, down to its straight-standing tail, the Beech T-34 Mentor that, make no mistake, is way more airplane than the Kachina. That said, the little Varga is a joy to fly, and I flew one years ago. On its not-so-little 150 hp or 180 hp Lycoming engine, it climbs great, and the visibility is spectacular, which is handy for spotting make-believe bogeys at your six, and the handling is beautifully harmonized. Fast, it is not. But, c’mon, is fast what this kind of airplane is all about? Besides, when they bring it back, which they most assuredly will not do any time soon, they will certainly improve the aerodynamics and make it aerobatic, as well. We can dream, can’t we?

Cessna 177 Cardinal

When Cessna brought back its greatly abbreviated lineup of single-engine planes in the mid-1990s after a 10-year hiatus, perhaps the omission that most grieved enthusiasts was that of the Cardinal, which is arguably one of the, if not the, most beautiful Cessnas ever built. Introduced in the late ’60s, the Cardinal was intended by Cessna as a replacement for the 172, which sounds like a bad joke today. It didn’t work, and Cessna built many thousands of 172s after that, but by gum, the Cardinal was much beloved by those who owned and flew them. Don’t get the wrong idea. It was far from a niche offering. Cessna built more than 4,000 in the decade following the type’s introduction in 1968. And it was cool, with its two major features being the cantilever high wing and the setback of said wing, both of which allowed easy access to the seating area. And Cessna did a great job with the interior as well. It was comfortable and had terrific visibility, but it wasn’t fast, with a cruise speed of around 120-125 knots. Even the retractable-gear 177RG isn’t much faster than that. And if you note the Cardinal’s passing from production in 1978, seven years before the company pulled the plug on the rest of its singles, you might get the idea that it wasn’t selling well. Correct. Though Cessna did, indeed, get a lot of low-pressure urging to put the plane back into production, the all-metal model wasn’t cheap to build—cantilever-wing designs tend to require lots of production hours compared to their strut-braced brethren. And in a way, Cessna almost did bring back the Cardinal, or at least a Cardinal wannabe, when it floated the idea of a high-winged, no-strut, all-composite plane it called the Next Generation Piston (NGP). It never took off, production-wise, and as far as beauty is concerned, it couldn’t hold a candle to its sheet-metal inspiration. 

Cessna 210

Early 210s were a work in progress, but once they got the cantilever wing, the classic Centurion body and the big motor, they were and are simply an outstanding aircraft. If Cessna had modernized the 210 and maybe even thrown in a chute to appeal to the prospects who buy Cirrus SR22s, might it have been a contender instead of sitting out the last 36 years in retirement? Are you kidding—of course it could have been a major player. The 210 has it all. It has a prodigious payload, terrific true airspeeds, the turbo model is a beast, and the plane is both capable and a pretty one. With its updated glass panel, as so many existing 210s are sporting today, who wouldn’t have wanted one? Yes, it would have been expensive. At the same time, isn’t it in the same class as the SR22, but with a couple more seats, or the Beechcraft G36 Bonanza? Instead of resurrecting the Centurion, Cessna opted for buying a composite airplane program, the Columbia 350/400, which it probably saw as a cheaper-to-build airplane and one that better appealed to modern sensibilities. I don’t know. I’ve got a good bit of time in a 210, and it’s one of the very best airplanes I’ve ever flown. Let’s bring it back. 

Commander 112/114

Of all the planes featured here, the Commander, and perhaps the Tiger, are the ones most likely to make it back to production, though neither’s chances are all that great. Like the Tiger, the Commander, launched by Rockwell Aircraft at the dawn of the ’70s, was ultimately produced in decent numbers. Around 1,200 of the four-seaters made it out the factory doors. Like the Cardinal, the Commander incorporated not new ideas so much as ideas that few existing singles were making use of. In the case of the Rockwell single, this feature was cabin size. It’s a roomy plane from an era when rubbing shoulders with other pilots was a literal expression. Book numbers for the Commanders are among the most ambitious in aviation, but with its 260 hp (some were turbocharged), the roomy, cruciform-tailed Commander could do around 150 knots at cruise. Early models were payload limited—it’s fuel or passengers; you decide—but the aesthetics and quality work inside and out were among the best in the biz. A very solid cross-country and instrument platform, the Commander was good at doing just what it was designed to do, though everyone wished it was about 15 knots faster. With the new production ones we’re imagining as we write, we are certain that this concern will be addressed.

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The post Six Light Single-Engine Planes They Totally Need to Bring Back! appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

It didn’t work out that way, in large part because LSA were so limited and most had challenging flying manners. So the light GA segment of 2021 is largely in the same shape as it was in 2004. None of the challenges we faced back then have gone away. Indeed, most have gotten worse. 

But a coming new segment, known as Light Personal Aircraft (LPA), stands the chance of fundamentally changing the light GA marketplace, reinvigorating it with new planes and new ideas. The existing LSA segment would continue as a sub-section of the LPA rule, and LSA would benefit from the rules rewriting. A final rule could come as early as 2023. And the changes I‘ll discuss are but a few contained in the sweeping initiative known as MOSAIC.

When we think of personal flying, we generally think of Part 23 certificated light (mostly under 4,000 pounds), single-engine piston planes that carry between two and six people. Admittedly, this slice of the pie leaves out a lot—light multi-engine planes, Light Sport Aircraft and amateur-built aircraft, among others. But when it comes to getting an airplane or upgrading to a different one, most of us think of light Part 23 planes, like Cessna 150s or Skylanes, Beech Bonanzas, Mooney 201s or Cirrus SR22s, to name just a few. 

Part 23 of the Federal Aviation Regulations allows for a huge diversity of aircraft, from two-seat trainers to small jets. And when the FAA first started noodling over certification reform more than two decades ago, it eventually came up with a whole new segment—Light Sport Aircraft. One of the main arguments that just about everyone interested in certification reform voiced was that Part 23, under which Cessna got its nearly 400-knot CitationJet certified, was too complicated, costly and involved a process for small, simple aircraft. That process, everyone also agreed, necessarily made the certification process for light planes too expensive to justify given the relatively small market for such aircraft. Consequently, few new aircraft were being brought to market. 

Enter the Light Sport rule. Now, there are a few great ideas behind the LSA category. First and arguably most importantly, it took the FAA almost completely out of the certification process, ditching Part 23 for what are known as industry consensus standards. In short, industry members meet and decide on the standards used to manufacture aircraft that companies can sell ready to fly, as opposed to kit aircraft, which the buyer must build themselves. 

Like LSA, higher-performance Light Personal Aircraft would also earn certification through adherence to industry consensus standards, a change that could greatly reduce the cost of developing and manufacturing these new aircraft.  

“Like LSA, higher-performance Light Personal Aircraft would also earn certification through adherence to industry consensus standards, a change that could greatly reduce the cost of developing and manufacturing these new aircraft.”

The Problems With Light Sport Aircraft

There were also a few not-so-great ideas behind these standards. The FAA, with help from LSA designers in the execution, botched this job because it made two assumptions that turned out directly counter to safety. 

The first was the lighter an aircraft is, the safer it is. LSAs are limited under most circumstances to 1,320 pounds compared to around 2,500 pounds for a Cessna 172, one of the safest light planes ever made. In theory, heavier aircraft aren’t necessarily safer than lighter ones, but in practice, they usually are. I’ve flown hundreds of different models of light aircraft, and some of the most difficult to fly are LSA. 

Speed is complicated. When asked if the Cub, since it was so slow, was a safer kind of plane, an early aviator said that it was slow so was, therefore, “just barely fast enough to kill you.” The truth was, Cubs were and still are involved in plenty of fatal accidents. LSAs might be slow, but they are plenty fast enough to kill you. 

The FAA was equally off base with its assessment of the safety associated with speed when it dialed down the maximum stall speed of LSA to 45 knots, compared to the 61-knot stall speed for single-engine Part 23 planes. The thinking here is easy enough to see. Make these planes stall slowly, and off-airport adventures will be more survivable. But is that true? 

The difference between the maximum stall speed of an LSA and that of a Part 23 single is 16 knots, which is big enough, but aerodynamically speaking, lift doesn’t act mathematically but, rather, geometrically, so getting down to 45 knots is a tall order, one that requires a lot more lift than one might think. So, weights need to be kept way down and wing surface area must be greatly increased. 

The result of the FAA’s definitions was an initial generation of LSA, most of which are a challenge to handle at slow speed, especially in windy conditions and even more with gusts. The light weight of the plane means less momentum, so the plane reacts more quickly to gusts, and the greater lift exacerbates that flightiness. Think butterfly in a windstorm. 

There are two-seat, Part 23 planes that stall at or below the LSA maximum of 45 knots, and those planes, which include the Cessna 150/152 and Diamond DA-20, handle better near the runway than most of their LSA counterparts. So you can make a very light plane that handles well enough at slow speeds even in windy conditions, but it’s apparently not that easy to pull off. 

The solution is to add pounds to the LSA maximum weight figure of 1,320 and add a few knots to the max stall speed as well. You’d then have planes with more presence that aren’t as flighty when it’s windy. 

The FAA also accidentally disallowed electric propulsion in its sloppy wording of a regulation intended to rule out turboprop power, something that makes such little sense for an LSA that we wonder why it needed specific mention at all. But those are the dangers of writing regs, the unintended consequences. 

Bigger LSA Are Coming. Hooray. 

The news leaking out of the virtual beltway is that a new generation of LSA is on its way that will include a new umbrella category called Light Personal Aircraft. The existing LSA category would be under the LPA category. But the continuing good news is that LSA would get weight and performance increases across the board, though, admittedly, details are sparse. The added heft and speed of LSA will only serve to make them safer, something the FAA and the authors of the new rules seem to get. 

These new craft will very likely be able to be flown with the LSA-style driver’s license medical, which would breathe new life into one of the greatest ideas behind LSA, that FAA medical standards for flying small planes are overkill. 

As you might know, LSA are today divided in two, those that you can buy ready to fly (SLSA) and ELSA, those you buy in kit form but need to build yourself (often with some judicious help from friends). The chief benefit of the DIY option is cost. You do the work, and you can cut a lot of the cost out of the new-plane cost calculus.  

And that has been a big complaint about LSA since shortly after the rule’s inception, that LSA were supposed to cost less, but they still cost a lot. A bigger, faster, roomier sub-Part 23 plane that the buyer does a lot of the work on could, at least in theory, provide an attractive avenue for new plane buyers, most of whom, it seems, are priced out of the new plane market. And with good-quality existing Part 23 singles getting rarer by the minute, and their prices rocketing up in recent years, it’s likely that new planes could once again compete with used ones. 

LPA are likely to be a lot more airplane, too, but so are LSA, which would benefit from years of improved understanding about what works with these planes and what doesn’t. 

The upper end of LPA, on the other hand, will be a whole animal, with higher weights, occupancy limits and allowable speeds at both the low and high end of the airspeed indicator. While these possible specifications are just that, it is safe to say that LPA will include a type of aircraft that is able to be much faster and roomier than current LSA. They are, in fact, likely to closely resemble some of the archetypal Part 23 models that define the lower end of the category, such as the fixed gear sub-200 hp Piper PA-28 or Cessna 172. 

It’s probable that we’ll get four-seaters that can cruise at rates well beyond the LSA speed limit of 120 knots. There’s likely to be a maximum power output of 200 hp, and, as far as weight is concerned, according to an article by light sport aviation guru Dan Johnson, the maximum weight of a plane would not be a set number but, instead, one based on a mathematical formula that takes into account weight, wing area and horsepower. Top allowable airspeeds for higher-performance LPA are unknown, but if the FAA gets it right and it’s a big number—I’d say at least 150 knots—that would open the door to some remarkably useful new planes because I have zero doubt but that designers can and would create such planes. 

Driver’s License Medical? 

The FAA continues to dangle pilot privileges in touting its conventional Third-Class medical certificate, and it’s possible that to fly some of these larger and faster next-gens, pilots might need at least a Basic Med certificate—we sincerely hope the final rule doesn’t require a Third-Class medical, though we wouldn’t be shocked if that’s what happens. The benefit of the new category would still be worth it for the new planes it would engender, but for many pilots struggling with conventional FAA medical certification who want to fly small planes, it would be a shame if that happens. Fingers crossed that the FAA gets this one right. 

There are other privileges with LSA, such as the ability to do work on your own plane, including procedures that the FAA in Part 23 reserves for licensed mechanics. The cost savings at annual time alone would be huge, and the FAA, Johnson writes, is likely to continue to let owners work on their own LSA, even though their weight and speed would increase as part of the new rules. Owners of higher-performance LPA would need to take their planes to the shop, as we pretty much always have to do with Part 23 models. 

Another big question—in fact, the most critical for many pilots—is, will existing Part 23 models that meet the definitions of LPA (whatever those specs wind up being) be able to be flown by pilots as though they were LPA (as you can do with today’s LSA)? If so, the new LPA rule could wind up being a backdoor to a driver’s license medical for planes that today require Basic Med at a minimum. That would be huge.

Third-Class Medical Versus BasicMed

There’s More

With LPA still a work in progress, there’s much we still don’t know about what a final rule might look like, and there are several peripheral questions that will affect who can fly these planes and under what conditions they can. 

It’s not yet known whether some LPA will be allowed to be operated under instrument flight rules (IFR), though from a safety perspective, that seems a no-brainer. A pilot with an instrument rating in an airplane equipped for IFR should absolutely be allowed to practice those privileges without restrictions beyond those currently in place (such as currency). Requiring a pilot to stay VFR while in instrument conditions, or near instrument conditions, is a prescription for disaster. 

Will they be allowed to be used for flight instruction for compensation, a subject the FAA is currently struggling to understand and regulate coherently? Or could you use an LPA for sightseeing fights or aerial survey work? We simply don’t know, though as before, I’d counsel a liberal set of initial rules. 

A Light Personal Aircraft Future? 

Those who remember the rollout of the LSA category likewise remember the root-canal-level teething pains it came with, as I’ve outlined above. Hopefully, the authors of the new proposal will take those failures into account in drafting the new rules. By all accounts, they are. That’s not to say there won’t be surprises—there assuredly will be. But at least we won’t be tacking those on to mistakes we already know about. 

In anticipating this new rule, pilots will surely be envisioning the planes of the future—I know that I am. But who will build them? Will Textron Aviation or Piper Aircraft or Diamond be at the fore, or will the current lineup of LSA makers, most of which make only LSA, be the main force in the new crop of planes? Or will new makers emerge as Cirrus did in the Part 23 arena, with a new model that pilots will just need to have. 

The answer, I’m betting, is yes to all of the above. Traditional Part 23 manufacturers struggled with their embrace and execution of LSA models—no one invested more or lost more than Cessna with its ill-fated model 165 Skycatcher. But with bigger, more conventional planes, could the big manufacturers of today get this one right? I don’t know. 

But I do know that if the FAA goes big on this rule and keeps the definitions as flexible and liberal as possible, we could be looking at an exciting new crop of light planes that will satisfy the marketplace for substantial and really useful planes that consumers will just need to buy. 

Me, I’m envisioning a four-seater that can do 165 knots and be purchased ready to fly for less than $200K. It’s not going to show up tomorrow, but if the LPA rule comes to pass in a form that will allow such craft, a plane like that is a distinct possibility, and one that could help reinvigorate a troubled segment in a way not seen for more than 75 years. With LPA, such a renaissance for light GA is not only possible but, I’d argue, impossible to avoid.

The post Light Personal Aircraft Are Coming appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

In 1979 alone, U.S. manufacturers delivered 2,843 piston twins, the high watermark for the decade, during which American plane makers never delivered fewer than 1,000 piston twins in any given year. 

The reason was not just that these planes offered the security of a second engine, though that was their primary selling point. Other big draws were combinations of a twin’s often-higher speeds, greater hauling capacity and larger cabin. 

One can debate the safety merits of twin-engine light aircraft vis-à-vis single-engine models endlessly, and just such a debate has, indeed, been ongoing in our community for the better part of a century. But for much of the earlier part of that conversation, there were a few assumptions about twins that were later called into question. 

The first is that big one, that twins are safer, an assumption called into question back in the 1970s by a few somewhat informal studies that concluded that twin-engine safety was largely a myth. The reason was hiding in plain sight. With a single-engine airplane, when an engine (the only one) quits, you’re going to land somewhere, somehow. But in a twin, the argument has always gone, you get to keep on flying. Unfortunately, that has not always led to brochure-worthy outcomes. The loss of an engine in a twin is especially dangerous when the engine goes on takeoff or climb out. If not handled quickly and properly, these engine failures usually result in an unsurvivable rolling crash into terrain or airport buildings. 

That’s why so much of the initial and recurrent training we do in twin-engine aircraft is with one engine caged. Twin-engine pilots need to learn how to respond to such emergencies by second nature because the time it takes to think things through when your twin loses an engine at low altitude is usually not fast enough to survive the failure. 

So, the argument goes, given that singles don’t have such a critical failure mode, and given that relatively few fatal accidents are caused by the loss of the single’s one powerplant, one’s odds might just be better in a single than in a twin, at least in that regard. Then again, the counterargument goes, all of the engine failures in twins that result in a safe landing somewhere never make it into the accident statistics, so the lives saved by that second engine are certainly greater than we know or have ever known. 

Many of today’s twin-engine aircraft, however, are safer in design in a number of ways from earlier models. Counter-rotating props eliminate the problem of one of the engines being more dangerous to lose than the other. Some new models feature full digital authority engine control (FADEC) and will automatically feather the prop (align the blades with the airflow for minimum drag on the dead engine). And all new-production twins feature more crashworthy structures than were required in the glory days, so some crashes are more survivable today. 

There are, as you are doubtless aware, fewer than 10 twin-engine models in current production, some of those built in very small numbers. Piper did not sell any of its once-popular Seneca models last year, and Beech sold 15 Barons. Worldwide, twins accounted for fewer than 100 sales, and that has been the case for nearly 20 years now. 

Twins still have their fans. Buyers of Beech Baron G58s and Diamond Aircraft DA-62s are shelling out well over a million for one of these gems, and they do so not only because they believe in the additional redundancy, performance and utility these planes offer, but also at least in part because multi-engine aircraft ownership still carries with it a level of status on an altogether different plane. 

—Isabel Goyer

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The post Our 2021 Roundup Of Light Twin Aircraft appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

That rubric is to equate performance with power, a test that the FAA has saddled itself and us with ever since. And the more we thought about it, the more problematic the idea became. After all, pure cubic centimeters don’t equal speed, or even necessarily payload power. Besides, if the FAA’s 200/201-hp threshold was problematic, how could we hope to do better by choosing a different number? But how low-powered an engine could a “high-performance” aircraft have and still be classified as such? We had no idea, because the idea wasn’t a defining principle to begin with.

The post What Even Is A “High-Performance”Airplane? appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

That’s not surprising, as the Skylane exemplifies the primary qualities that have endeared piston-powered Cessnas of all varieties for years. Skylanes aren’t outstanding in any parameter. They are, in fact, extraordinarily ordinary. They’re not the fastest, the quickest climbing, the best handling, the easiest to land, the most spacious or comfortable, the least expensive to operate or the optimum value.

Their great value on the used markets is that they combine so much capability in so many areas that their collective score places them among the very best buys in the industry. That’s in keeping with Cessna’s design philosophy on virtually all its piston products. The seemingly ageless 150 is still regarded by many instructors as arguably the best, most cost-effective trainer available, though it has been out of production for 30 years. That said, since we first published this article a few years ago, the prices of used Skylanes, even very early ones, has gone up, a lot. Over the past three years, the asking price for used 182s has as much as doubled. And they sell fast, too. So don’t expect that trend to reverse itself any time soon. 

Similarly, the Cessna 172 Skyhawk continues to make friends and influence pilots at a slow but prodigious pace. It’s been around forever, it’s almost ridiculously easy to fly, and for that reason, it has an enviable safety record. Though the Cirrus SR-22 now outsells the most popular Cessna, the 172, the Cessna entry-level four-seater’s uncommon combination of economy, simplicity and safety has allowed it to sell some 45,000 examples, making it the world’s most produced airplane. And strangely enough, used Skyhawks, once a real value in a used plane, no longer is, as flight schools snap up good used ones, fix them up and bit and put them to work. 

The Skylane hasn’t gone viral in quite the same way. The next step up in Cessna’s piston ascendency, it shares the Skyhawk’s popularity and longevity, both new and used. In a sense, the current Skylane is practically alone in its class. (The only head-to-head competition, Piper’s Dakota, was discontinued in 1994.) The Cirrus SR-20 is the only other current production airplane that comes close to competing, but it’s lighter and 35 hp shy of the Skylane and, really, intended for a different audience and mission. 

The 182 continues to serve as the company’s step-up single, a true four-seater with performance only a few steps below that of an entry-level retractable. Add reliability that has become legend, and operating economy that’s well within most families’ budgets, and the Skylane’s universal attraction on the used market makes perfect sense.

As of a few years ago, a good friend in the aircraft resale marketplace said that in his experience, used Skylanes were the number-one search item for prospective buyers on TAP’s site. No surprise there, and we doubt that’s changed.

The Skylane Legacy Begins

The original 1956 Skylane 182 was hardly revolutionary. By today’s standards, it was a blockish, uninspired design that shared its two smaller siblings’ stubbornly vertical tail and fastback fuselage. Full paint was an option, and like so many other new products, there were plenty of bugs left to be ironed out.

As every pilot who hasn’t been living on the dark side of the moon knows, the model 182 was a nose gear adaptation of the earlier, tail-dragging Cessna 180, an airplane that was to become revered for its ready adaptability to a variety of off-airport and on-airport jobs.

Cessna reasoned correctly that nosewheel steering was the wave of the future and would make the 182 more attractive to a wider range of pilots.

Like the 172, the 182 was fitted with a 36-foot-span, NACA2412 wing, an airfoil that accentuated lift rather than speed. In combination with the 180’s huge, barn-door flaps, the wing imparted a stall speed under 50 knots, slow enough to allow runway performance that wasn’t quite STOL, but it was close enough. Though Cessna 180s are now long out of production, they still serve with Maules, Stinsons and Helios in the backwoods of Alaska and Canada.

Cessna’s first 182 wasn’t the major engineering problem you might imagine. The main gear needed to be relocated aft to preserve the CG, the engine exhaust system had to be repositioned and redesigned to accommodate the nosegear, and the fuel vent system had to be reconfigured for fuel management. Cessna knew the front wheel of the tricycle would need to be strong and durable to avoid pilots wrinkling the firewall by landing nosegear first, so that gear was shortened and placed farther aft rather than directly under the engine’s center of mass.

The 230 hp Continental O-470 had been a reliable powerplant on the Cessna 180, and Cessna adapted it directly to the 182. In fact, the Continental was retained in the same basic configuration for a full 30 years until Cessna shut down all piston production in 1986. TBO was an optimistic 1,500 hours, but that was considered good longevity for an engine created in the 1950s.

The first 182 flew away from the Wichita factory at an average equipped price of $17,700, and Cessna immediately began to upgrade and improve the model. Over the next 60 years (the Skylane was out of production between 1986 and 1997), there were dozens of improvements, and we could fill the rest of this issue with the full list of model enhancements. Instead, we’ll confine our explanation to the high points.

Changes were minuscule on the 1957 model, but in 1958, Cessna gave the airplane the official name of Skylane. (For the purposes of this analysis, we’ll treat the 182 and the Skylane as the same airplane. In fact, they were just that, but the Skylane featured a slightly more comprehensive package of standard equipment—wheel pants, full paint and minimal radios. Other than that, the basic 182 and Skylane were identical.)

Cessna swept the vertical tail in 1960 with the 182C. While the vertical stabilizer’s center of pressure did move slightly aft, it’s unlikely that tail or rudder power increased by a measurable amount. The gear was lowered slightly in 1961 with introduction of the 182D to improve ground stability.

Model year 1962 saw major refinements to Cessna’s true four-seater. The 182E addressed a number of areas with meaningful improvements that would emphasize both aesthetics and systems operation.

Cessna revised the empennage to a notchback design that accommodated a steeply slanted rear window, providing the Skylane with a more modern look and a mail-slot view to the rear quadrant. Flaps went electric, and the cabin was widened four inches and lowered three-quarters of an inch to improve both horizontal and vertical comfort.

The gear was beefed up, gross weight increased to 2,800 pounds (from the original 2,550 pounds), and the Continental engine was assigned a new variant, the O-470R. Along the way, Cessna offered long-range fuel tanks of 84-gallon capacity as an option (that nearly everyone bought), contained in bladder tanks rather than wet wings as on the original 182.

Holding the line on weight while improving an airplane’s accommodations and performance is a magic trick even David Copperfield couldn’t pull off on his best day. Accordingly, the basic Skylane gradually began to gain weight, and Cessna attempted to save some pounds by using lighter-grade aluminum in non-load-bearing areas. On the time-worn principle that no good deed goes unpunished, this caused ripples in the affected skins, and Cessna was forced to hide those by fully painting all Skylanes. (See our sidebar on the 1962 182E.)

The 1963 model 182F featured a one-piece windshield and rear window, instruments rearranged in the preferred T-formation and a 10-inch increase in horizontal stabilizer span to improve elevator response at low airspeed. Flap-preselect positions became standard.

After seven years of development, Cessna had pretty well worked out the major bugs, and improvements to the Skylane became harder to come by. The 182G offered a kiddie seat in the baggage area and the 182J replaced the generator with an alternator.

In 1970, the 182N included a revised landing gear with wider, sprung steel mains, and max gross was increased again, this time to 2,950 pounds. The 1972 model added a leading edge cuff to improve handling at low speeds, and the 1977 model Skylane got a slightly revised version of the Continental O-470, the O-470U, granted a 2,000-hour TBO (after the first overhaul).

By 1978, Cessna again boosted gross weight, this time to 3,100 pounds, in hopes of keeping pace with the airplane’s ever-increasing empty weight. The electrical system was boosted to 28 volts, and standard fuel became 88 gallons.

Cessna continued to build the normally aspirated Skylane to the shutdown of all Cessna piston production in 1986, but the company added a turbocharged option in 1981, featuring a 235 hp IO-540 Lycoming engine. In other respects, the Skylane remained relatively unchanged.

Cessna resumed piston production in 1997 after Congress passed the General Aviation Revitalization Act of 1994, imposing an 18-year statute of repose on lawsuits against aircraft manufacturers. Accordingly, Cessna President Russ Meyer reintroduced the Skyhawk and Skylane in 1997. Rather than install a Continental in the normal Skylane and a Lycoming in the heavy breather, Cessna standardized the model with fuel-injected, 235 hp Lycomings.

In the early 1990s, Cessna constructed a new production facility in Independence, Kansas, to produce the millennial generation piston airplanes, along with the company’s upcoming Mustang jet.

Build quality and materials on the new Skyhawk and Skylane were notably improved, and while there was little need for change, as Cessna had refined the model over the first 30 years, the company still made several noteworthy improvements. They added more crashworthy seats, improved fuel drains, a few aerodynamic improvements to eke out a couple more knots and a nicely updated interior. The big news on the post-’97 182s was unquestionably introduction of the Garmin G1000 flat-panel display on the 2006 182T model.

Beware The Numbers

To date, Cessna has produced around 24,000 fixed-gear Skylanes of all varieties, and in many respects, they’re remarkably similar machines. There are, however, some differences you should be aware of.

The first Skylane 182 was certified at a gross weight of 2,550 pounds, and the most recent model, the 182T, has a max gross of 3,100 pounds. You might reasonably expect that useful load would have improved proportionately, but you’d be reasonably wrong.

Cessna specified an empty weight on the 1956 model at 1,560 pounds against a 2,550-pound gross, and the same parameter on the newer 182T was 1,860 pounds from a gross of 3,100 pounds. In other words, gross weight increased by 550 pounds, but useful load only went up 300 pounds.

If you do the math carefully, however, you’ll note that Cessna stayed one step ahead of the game by increasing fuel capacity on the newer models. Max fuel jumped from 55 to 84 to 88 gallons. That meant full fuel payload remained nearly the same—670 pounds on the early model and 712 pounds on the later version. Both weight limits are roughly equivalent to four “standard” 170-pound occupants, though the FAA is considering raising the typical weight per pilot/passenger to 200 pounds.

Flying The Skylane

Operationally, perhaps the Skylane’s most renowned talent has always been its ability to fly away with as many people as it has seats. A 680-pound payload with full fuel is an impossible dream for many manufacturers, but the early Skylanes were famous for lifting a big load. As mentioned above, there was even a kiddie seat option in the baggage compartment if you had the weight and CG allowance. Just don’t ask the kiddie what he thought of it.

The 182 features a fairly large, comfortable cabin with multi-adjustable seats. Some even offered dual vent fans to help cool front and rear seats independently. The windshield and side windows are large and accommodating, but not both at the same time. The panel is set high, and unless you’re tall, the view forward is limited, especially during the landing flare. Conversely, the side windows are mounted low beneath the wings so that most pilots and passengers need to scrunch down in the seat to see out the sides.

As the Skylane matured (gained weight) and buyers began ordering more options, empty weight began to climb faster than Cessna could re-certify the type for higher weights. Adding fuel to the final 88-gallon capacity allowed pilots to continue to fly with four folks aboard over longer range. At 12 to 13 gph and a block speed of 130 knots, endurance was as long as 6.5 hours plus reserve, enough for trips out to 850 nm.

At 3,100 pounds gross weight (for the S and later models), the 182’s CG can be somewhat critical, especially with the balance point at the forward limit. Under some loadings—two big men up front and full fuel—the airplane can run out of elevator during landing. This is a bigger concern than you might imagine, as the Skylane has always had a heavy nose that demands re-trimming for any pitch change.

One way Cessna addressed the problem was to limit landings to a max weight of 2,950 pounds. If you depart at gross, you’ll need to burn down 150 pounds (25 gallons) of fuel or ask one of your passengers to step outside before returning to land. A reduced max landing weight well below gross is common on turbine equipment and not that unusual a requirement for many general aviation airplanes, but few manufacturers publicize it.

Piston engine-specific fuel consumption (sfc) is fairly immutable at 0.42 lbs/hp/hr., so the Skylane’s burn at 75 percent power works out to 12.5 gph. Four hours is about as long as most pilots and passengers are willing to sit in one place. If that’s the required endurance, and the pilot is willing to leave 18 gallons in the truck, he can plan to carry four folks over 520 miles to the next fuel stop.

Aerodynamically, the Skylane is a fairly large machine that manifests a significant equivalent flat plate area—the airplane’s total frontal area translated to a single flat panel. For that reason, it would require a massive improvement in drag coefficient to realize a major speed improvement.

Using the 182S as typical, max cruise is about 135 knots with all vents closed, max aft CG, all doors and windows flushed down tight and other parasite drag conditions optimized. We checked several Skylane flight manuals, and while the advertised max cruise number was usually listed as 140 knots or better in the brochures, we couldn’t find any mph/rpm combinations in the cruise charts for any altitude that suggested a cruise over about 136 knots on 75 percent power. The Skylane nevertheless combines avgas and sky with reasonable efficiency. It’s an airplane that doesn’t do anything wrong and is in no hurry to do it.

If you’re not in a hurry, however, this is one model that can benefit from 55 percent cruise. Drag rise is apparently less dependent on angle of attack than in cleaner designs. Throttle back to the lower setting, and burn drops to 9.5 gph, but speed is only reduced to 117 knots. That’s a 30 percent reduction in fuel burn in exchange for only a 15 percent loss of cruise speed.

Skylanes of all varieties feature short-field performance that’s better than practically anything without a Robertson STOL kit. The 182 is one of the few aircraft that can depart and land in roughly the same distance. Most other airplanes can trap pilots into believing they can fly back out of any runway they can sneak into. Marginally, not so.

The earlier model 182s with gross weights of 2,950 pounds or less can clear the ground in 600 to 700 feet in sea level/standard conditions while the later, heavier models require more like 800 feet—still impressive performance. Minimum landing distance for all models is about 600 feet, and the good news is you don’t need to be a professional bush pilot to make the first turnoff practically every time.

It’s hard to imagine anyone coaxing a Skylane to its service ceiling, but Cessna suggests you can climb to nearly 20,000 feet in the models A, B, C and D, and 16,500 feet in the heavier, normally aspirated 182s after that.

All turbocharged Skylanes featured the Lycoming IO-540 engine, rated for 235 hp and blessed with a TBO of 2,000 hours. These airplanes were good for cruise in the flight levels if you had the time and the need to fly high, and they could manage 155 to 160 knots.

What Not To Buy

In the 1960s, Cessna began equipping most of its models with VHF and low frequency avionics gear produced by the Aircraft Radio Corporation (ARC) of Boonton, New Jersey. ARC was one of Cessna’s captive brands, and the Wichita company gradually began to insist that all Cessna products be equipped with ARC radios.

Unfortunately, ARC avionics had a number of problems, most related to overheating and eventual failure. Prospective Cessna buyers began purchasing airplanes with panels naked of any avionics at all, flying them to home base and having local shops install NARCO or King radios. I delivered a dozen or more of those deaf and dumb Cessnas to the West Coast without any radios (even including one Cessna 310), using portable comms when necessary and flying by reference to Route 66 and other visible navaids.

You’ll seldom see ARC radios even in older Cessnas, but if you’re up for some additional investment, there are some very attractively priced, extremely capable avionics solutions that will transform just about any used Skylane into a glass panel wonder. 

Another caution with older Skylanes applies to wing tank fuel bladders. These could develop wrinkles in the bottom of the tank that could collect water and cause power loss at inconvenient times. The Feds issued an AD on these that demanded more fuel drains on each tank and suggested pilots shake the wing to reposition water to the drains. As you might imagine, this can be an expensive fix.

A wrinkled firewall from too many nose-low landings also can be a financial nightmare. You should insist that your mechanic pay special attention to the nose gear and engine mounts on any prospective pre-purchase inspection.

The Skylane’s Continental O-470 was famous for its reliability, but not all the way to its 1,500-hour TBO. Most of the 470s demand cylinder work somewhere along the way, often including a full top overhaul. That’s not necessarily a gotcha, but it’s worth checking before you buy.

The Bottom Line

The definition of success in today’s general aviation market has changed dramatically since those halcyon days of the late ’60s, ’70s and early ’80s. In 2015, Cessna sold 33 Skylanes. Forty years ago, that would have been cause to shut down the line and start building hybrid cars, but in today’s economy, it’s regarded as a semi-success.

The Skylane continues to attract a coterie of pilots for whom it’s not all about speed, climb, payload, reliability or short-field performance, but about all those parameters combined. There continues to be a strong market for used Skylanes simply because they offer more than enough for less than too much. A recent issue of Trade-A-Plane listed 68 Skylanes for sale, so there’s plenty of stock to choose from.

For that reason, the Cessna Skylane continues to sell well to aviators with a need for a simple, reasonably comfortable, 2+2 transport with good performance and manners that are unlikely to bite the average pilot. Any aviator who’s simply willing to stay awake, keep the trim moving, follow the book and not do anything dumb should have a satisfying experience with a Cessna Skylane.

The Cessna 182E

Here at Plane & Pilot, we have more than a purely editorial interest in Skylanes. Back in the late 1970s, when I was editor of Plane & Pilot, the magazine purchased a well-used Skylane as a project airplane and rebuilt it to better-than-new condition.

The airplane we selected from the hundreds of used Skylanes in a year’s worth of Trade-A-Planes was a ragtag 1962 model 182E with no damage history, poor paint and an original interior. It had been sitting outside for most of its life, but our mechanic felt it had great potential as a fixer-upper.

Our choice of the 182E was deliberate. The ’62 Skylane was the first to offer both the swept tail and the “modern,” notchback fuselage.

From that very tired and heavily weathered starting point, we embarked on a refurbishment project that was to last nearly 30 years. There were literally hundreds of improvements incorporated into our Project Skylane over that time, and aesthetically, our 182E was updated to look and fly very much like the newer models.

We fitted the old Skylane with a new engine and three-blade McCauley prop, a fully modernized instrument panel with all-new avionics, new paint and interior, and most other updates to bring the airplane to near-new condition.

I flew our refurbished Skylane all over the U.S. for several decades, and I was questioned dozens of times in the 1990s and early 2000s about how I liked the “new Skylane.” When I explained that the airplane was a refurbished 1962 model, some pilots were simply incredulous. They couldn’t believe it was possible to transform a 30- to-40-year-old airplane into what appeared to be a new 182.

According to the General Aviation Manufacturers Association, that’s more the rule than the exception. GAMA reports the average GA aircraft in the U.S. today is more than 40 years old.

Original New & Current Used Skylane Prices

We haven’t updated this pricing guide since it was published in 2016, but if you double the left-hand column (current used price) price for every model up through 1977, you won’t be far off. After that, the pricing is closer to accurate until you get to the later models, which actually fetch less on the used market than indicated here. That’s for the obvious reason. They are that much older. Here’s a look at original new prices and current used prices for select Skylanes in the last 60 years. Our source is the standard pricing guide of the industry, Aviation Week’s Aircraft Bluebook, Winter 2016/2017. New prices are for typically equipped aircraft.  Used prices are approximate, and might not reflect a fast-changing market.

-T = Turbo

AIRCRAFT BLUEBOOK, Winter, 2016-2017; Spring 2010.

Jane’s All-The-World’s Aircraft, 1957, 1980 and 2014

Aviation Consumer Used Aircraft Guide, 9th Edition

Cessna 182S Pilot’s Operating Handbook, 1997

Detailed specs on several different Skylane models are available in our Cessna Specifications archive.

Check out the newest Skylane and other fantastic single-engine airplanes in our latest Piston Singles Buyer’s Guide.

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CubCrafters Carbon Cub

If ever you needed proof that there’s no one formula for a successful LSA, the Carbon Cub might be it. The airplane looks for all the world like an old J-3, but despite the LSA category’s restrictions on performance, CubCrafters has managed to make a 21st-century backcountry rocketship in the guise of a Cubbie with tandem seating and the company’s cool 3×3 landing gear option. The Carbon Cub isn’t really made of carbon, though it does have some carbon-fiber components. The airplane is welded chromoly tubing with aircraft fabric for light weight and high strength. CubCrafters hangs nothing less than a 180 hp Titan engine on front for some obscene climb performance, up to 2,100 fpm, claims CubCrafters. Because of its LSA certification, full power is limited to the first five minutes of operation and top speed to 120 knots, and we’re certain every pilot adheres to those restrictions faithfully.

Niche: High-wing taildragger

Base Price: $189,990

Competitors: Legend Cub, Rans S7-LS Courier

CubCrafters Carbon Cub Specifications

Learn more at CubCrafters.

The post Plane & Pilot 2017 Buyer’s Guide: Light Sport Aircraft appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Piper M350

Few groundbreaking airplanes stand the test of time, and the M350, known previously as the Mirage and before that the Malibu, is one of them. The pressurized piston single is fast, roomy (seats for six including club seating in back), and because it’s pressurized, occupants don’t need cannula or oxygen masks in the flight levels. Its tremendous range and weather-ready equipment make it the world’s most advanced piston single, one with much of the capability of turboprop singles, but at a cool million less. Its G1000 avionics suite boasts safety features like synthetic vision, envelope protection and a hypoxia safety mode. The M350 has onboard weather radar, anti-icing pneumatic boots for full flight into known icing capability, and with a ceiling of 25,000 feet, it can navigate weather more effectively and effortlessly (for pilot and passengers) than any other production piston single.

Niche: Pressurized piston retractable gear

Price: $1.15 million

Competitors: None

Read our Piper M350 pilot report.

Piper M350 Specifications

Learn more at Piper Aircraft.

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