You can look at a few key specs, but specifications are nothing without putting them into the context of what your needs are. What kind of missions do you fly? How far do you go? For what reasons? With how many people aboard? And what about bags? And what kinds of fields do you land on? When you ask these kinds of questions, it becomes clear that speed, while important, is just one of a range of intersecting capabilities that all go toward figuring out what plane is right for you. Is speed all that important? You bet it is!

But speed is not always well understood, and by that, I mean it’s not immediately clear to many pilots (especially those who haven’t flown long cross missions–we’re talking 750 nm or more on a regular basis) what speed means in practical terms.

Before I go any further, I want to add that the basis for this article was one by a previous contributor to our title, Budd Davisson. It was a good read, and well researched, too, but as I began to add my two cents to it, it soon became clear that our perspectives and directions were somewhat different. So consider this article me leapfrogging off of Budd’s good ideas and direction but adding my perspective.

“The big question remains: What does speed mean in real terms? What kind of advantages do those fast movers enjoy, and is it worth what you have to pay to get it?”

One thing Budd mentioned was that there were benchmarks for speed, and they’re useful. Twenty-five years ago, that was 200 mph, a figure made famous by Mooney, which leveraged that magic number by calling one of its planes the “201” for being even slightly faster than that nice round 200 mph.

And for the sake of standardization, Plane & Pilot has adopted the FAA’s knots-first editorial policy, which has been an industry standard for the past 35 years. And when we discuss speeds, whether mph or knots, we’re referring to true airspeed (technically abbreviated as “ktas”), which is the plane’s speed through the air, calculated from the calibrated airspeed and adjusting for the variables of air density and temperature. So in terms of that 200-mph gold standard, we’ll think of it as 175 knots. Which is still really cooking.

THE MEANING OF SPEED
The big question remains, though. What does speed mean in real terms? What kind of advantages do those fast movers enjoy, and is it worth what you have to pay to get it?

The answers are, there are a lot of advantages, some big, some not so big, and the costs can be great. Can they be too great? Good question. Let’s look at some real-world cases.

But first, it’s important to get a grasp on your typical mission. If your prime travel distance is, for the sake of choosing a round number, 500 nautical miles, then one could make a compelling argument that you don’t need a 175-knot cruiser to make that trip reliably and regularly. But unless you’re changing zip codes or delivering a plane to a new owner, cross-country trips don’t end at the first fuel stop. They don’t even end at what we think of as the “destination.” The actual destination is, in fact, almost always back home.

If you’re making a multi-day trip, which, regardless of how fast the plane is, most long cross countries will be, then you can treat the mission as two separate trips on two separate days. Fair enough.

But if you’re planning to be home again that evening, then speed is an even more critical part of the calculus. In fact, without a fast plane, a 500-nm trip out and back again with three hours on the ground at the destination isn’t doable in daylight in most of the lower 48 United States during the daylight available most of the year. And super long days with a trip home late in the evening almost guarantees less-than-optimal human performance on those last legs.

But in terms of the simple math, again with that 500- mile trip, which is a usable average for most pilots, how much does speed get you? What’s the difference between cruising at 138 knots, something that most Cessna 182s can do, and 174 knots, something that most mid-’60s to present-day Beech Bonanzas can pull off?

That calculation really is easy. The Bonanza saves right around 45 minutes on that trip. Is saving three-quarters of an hour worth the extra dough that sweet Beechcraft will cost you, both upfront and going forward?

The answer is maybe. Things are a lot more complicated than a cursory look at block time on one leg can tell. Real-world cross-country flying is all about taking all the parameters into account, and that means looking realistically at weather, optimum altitudes, passenger needs and the amount of daylight you have to work with—winter days are short. And when you begin factoring in considerations such as required alternates on an IFR flight plan or thunderstorm diversions, the process can get complicated, and pilots need to have a solid grasp of all of the variables that go into planning any particular trip. So, is the extra speed worth it? In the small picture, maybe not. But when you take a wider view of cross-country flying, the additional speed is priceless.

HOW FAST, THEN?
Airplanes as fast as that legendary 200 mph (which we’ll think of here as 175 knots) always have the increased maintenance of retractable gear and big motors, and almost always have higher acquisition costs. Within the traditional general aviation fleet, however, there are actually only a few airplanes that can honestly claim to cruise 200 mph. These include some Cirrus SR22s, later Bonanzas, some M20-series Mooneys, some Cessna Centurions and a few others. The big question is, how much time is extra speed actually saving you, and is it worth the additional expense and potential hassle?

In the simplest and least-useful terms, we might translate that as, how much are those 40 minutes worth? If you say that flying 130 to 140 knots will do, what’s in it for you? A lot. The most obvious advantage is that it costs less to get into the game to begin with. Even though the legendary Cessna Skylane is getting to be more expensive all the time, it’s still cheaper than most of its much faster neighbors. An older Skylane will give you 140 knots for around 12 gph. So you’ll pay less for the plane, less for fuel, less for maintenance (if you’re lucky) and less for insurance.

One way of looking at speed is by using, instead of nautical miles per hour, a figure that is dollars per hour. If that sounds too complicated to be useful, we agree with you, mostly. You can estimate costs for operating any aircraft, though when it comes to maintenance, the cost variability of small planes is great. In general, the slower a plane is, the cheaper it will be to operate.

HOW MUCH DOES FAST COST, THOUGH?
The converse is true. Planes that can flirt with that 175- knot figure will cost you more upfront, more in gas and oil, and more going forward. Most of these planes are retractable gear models, though the advent of fixed-gear fast glass models, like the Cirrus SR22, have changed that calculus some.

By taking the projected costs of a plane to own and operate, known as fixed and operating costs, you can figure out how much it costs you to fly per mile. (If you wanted to get really fancy, you could make that “seat miles,” which takes into account the number of people you can take along with you.) But for small planes, miles per gallon works well.

Conventional fixed-gear singles with bigger motors will net you around 12 mpg. Mooneys are champs in the fuel efficiency arena. Because they’re smaller, both outside and in, and because they have lower drag because of their size and smart aerodynamic design, the less-thirsty, smaller engines up front can get you around 20 mpg, which is way better than most of the SUVs we drive.

Another way to look at speed is how much we have to pay for each additional mile per hour of speed when buying the airplane. Even when using bluebook aircraft values, which are usually low, as comparisons, it shows that airplanes like the Bonanza, which are much larger and more luxurious but nowhere nearly as efficient as the Mooneys, command higher prices. Therefore, on a dollar-per-knot basis, they’re much more expensive, plus they’re way down in the fuel-efficiency curve. So why do people buy Bonanzas over Mooneys? Clearly because they value that comfort and are willing to burn more gas to get it.

That doesn’t answer the question about speed, though, just what you’re going to pay for it. Let’s say instead that you’re basing your purchase on fulfilling a particular mission profile, and you’ll pay whatever you need to get that plane—within reason, of course. How do you wrap your head around the speed-versus-cost equation?

I’d suggest thinking of piston singles in six groups.

• Planes that can’t make 125 knots. These include almost every two-seater, many of which can’t even hit 100 knots reliably.
• 125-knot cruisers. Included here are planes like 180-hp Cessna Skyhawks and Piper Archers, among many others.
• Those that can cruise at around 140 knots. This group includes Skylanes old and new, Piper Dakotas (235-hp PA-28s), the Diamond DA-40 and the Cirrus SR20, along with many older Mooneys.
• Models that can reliably do 160 knots, such as the Piper PA-32 Saratoga RG or the Cessna 182 RG.
• Speedier ones that can deliver 175 knots, such as normally aspirated Cessna 210s, many Bonanzas, more powerful Mooneys, and a few others. It’s not a long list.
• And then, sleek and powerful models that can get you 200 knots. These are usually turbocharged and deliver such speeds at higher altitudes, typically in the mid-teens.

By referring to this list, you should be able to get a solid idea of what kind of plane you’d want if you were regularly flying long cross-country legs. For trips of 500 nm, I’d say you want at least a tier-two level plane. For anything longer, I’d suggest an airplane that will give you 140 knots. If you’re flying really long cross countries on a regular basis, aim for getting at least 160 knots, though faster is even better. Here’s why.

RANGE: THE GREAT EQUALIZER, UP TO A POINT
With all this talk of speed, there’s one other factor that has to be tossed into the decision equation: range. How far will a plane go without making a fuel stop? When we’re talking 500-mile trips, that’s not usually a factor because just about everything on our list has at least 500 nm of range. But a funny thing happens when we stretch that trip out to 1,200 miles. Suddenly, fuel capacity becomes a really big deal.

Let’s say you’re flying an early 2000s Cirrus SR22 that delivers its advertised 180 kt cruise speed, and let’s round down to 175 to be conservative. Its spec sheet says its range is better than 1,000 nautical, but manufacturers often (almost always, in fact) list range figures based on best economy power settings, which turn a 180-knot airplane into a 140-knot one. It should go without saying that no one flies their SR22s like that unless they’re trying to prove a point or flying long overwater legs. So, with 1,200 nautical miles between departure and destination points, that’s just a two-leg affair—two long legs, granted, but it’s undoable for 125-knot cruisers, and it’s biting off a lot even for 140-knot models.

That’s because, for planes with less fuel capacity/range than the Cirrus in order to make 1,200 miles safely and still have some reserve, you would have to stop twice to get gas. The actual time in the air would be around seven hours. Two fuel stops, however, are going to add 30 to 45 minutes per stop, for a total of around eight hours departure to destination.

For a trip of 1,000 miles, a 700-nm-range, 175-knot plane looks great. Adding in that fuel stop on a long mission is a killer, so planes with extra fuel capacity, like some newer SR22s or Mooneys, make long hard days a little less of both. That’s worth a lot.

Still, back to that hypothetical 1,200-mile trip. Now, let’s say your lowly Cessna 182 is plodding along at 140 kts but burning significantly less gas. More importantly, it’s a newer model with 88-gallon tanks, which, according to the specifications, give just under 800 nm of range. So, it easily can make it with only one stop. Eight and a half hours of flying, plus 45 minutes of ground time, gives you around 9 hours and 15 minutes elapsed time. So, the SR22 gets you there about there 55 minutes faster. But are all of those things a really big deal on such a long trip?

SHORT-DAY CALCULUS
They are, especially when you’re flying in the winter. Take Kansas City, for instance, since it’s as mid-continental as you can get. On the shortest day of the year there, you have just over nine hours from sunrise to sunset. Add another 45 minutes or so of workable light, and you’re talking 10 hours of travel time if you get started as early as possible, which isn’t always easy. The faster plane gets you there with daylight to spare even on the shortest day of the year, so long as you’re not flying way up north.

Now let’s interject a scary word when you’re flying long cross countries: headwinds. And let’s use an average bad- day headwind, 25 knots. In the 175-knot airplane, you’re still getting what is essentially Skylane no-wind performance. In the Skylane, you’re getting sub-Skyhawk levels. In the faster plane, the trip is long but still doable within the daylight you have to work with. In the slower plane, it’s not.

When it comes to multiple legs, even short ones, and wind and weather, extra speed can make a huge difference. A flight of 400 nm won’t require a fuel stop for any of these planes, but the time saved flying a much faster airplane will translate into not just one faster trip but potentially three, or maybe four. Getting back home a couple of hours earlier, or maybe just getting back home at all instead of having to hotel it at the last stop, is worth a lot.

SO, WHAT’S FAST ENOUGH?
So, in the end, how fast is fast enough? Again, it depends on your typical mission. For pilots who are going to fly 750 trips or shorter, any plane that can deliver around 140 knots is a good bet. But if you increase the distance and add in the greater chance for weather and wind playing havoc with your plans, the calculus gets more complex. To decide, you’ve got to consider the interplay between the pilot/owner’s wants and needs, as well as their financial wherewithal as it relates to the aircraft in your economic wheelhouse. When in doubt, if you can use, afford and fly it, go for the faster plane.

In the less-than-perfect world we all live in, sometimes the decision will mean buying a plane that’s not quite as fast or rangy as you wish it were. If that’s the case, you need to recalibrate. Take an extra day for those longest flights. Or fly commercial if you must—nobody flies their Bonanza from New York to Paris these days. The point is, even if your ride isn’t as fast as you’d like, you still get to fly your plane on all but the longest cross countries.

But, again, if you can afford it, speed delivers in so many ways. PP

The post How Fast A Plane Do You Need? appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

The planes on this list, not so much. Indeed, if there’s any guiding rule in their design, it’s impossible to discern, and if anyone does figure it out, we sincerely hope they keep the secret to themselves.

Almost all of these aircraft were designed the way they were for purely practical reasons. Which makes sense. Otherwise, why would anyone intentionally adopt the aesthetics represented here? After all, the 747, which is not on this list, has the hump for its second seating area. The Chinook has its profile that only a mother could love, so it could have two giant main rotors and a big place to put troops and weapons. Try doing either of those two things and still come out with a runway-worthy model of beauty. Can it be done? Can you combine beauty and purpose-built design? Clearly, you can. Just look at the multitudinous business jets that look the way they do because of the things, like wing sweep and area rule fuselage design, that makes them the heavenly chariots their manufacturers advertise them as.

In these instances, the result of the quest for a plane that would do something outside the box was the creation of an odd-shaped box all its own. You won’t find any one-off World War I tri-plane light bombers here, either. The defining factor, apart from their ungainly appearance, is that most of these planes were at least fairly successful and produced in good numbers. If nothing else, that’s proof that beauty sometimes takes a backseat to more important things, like revenue and utility.

Here are the seven ugliest light planes.

Ercoupe

The Erco Ercoupe was an early 1930s attempt to create a plane that was safer to fly than most of the things that were falling out of the sky right and left that came before it. And while it is exceptionally awkward looking, there are good reasons for why it is. The plane, one of the first successful all-metal light planes, had no rudder controls—the plane’s control system mixed aileron and rudder input, so all the pilot needed to do was steer. Various companies produced the Ercoupe over the years, with production ending in 1969 after its makers churned out more than 5,500 of the little two-seaters.

On the other hand:

The author couldn’t be more wrong. The tail of the Ercoupe itself is a masterpiece, and while a little awkward looking, there’s a lot to love about the Ercoupe’s looks.

PZL Wilga

The PZL Wilga, our sole Eastern European listee, was designed to be a sport plane, a trainer, a parachute plane, a STOL utility workhorse, and a glider tug. So this one’s a case not of weird design because its creators were trying to make a plane that did one difficult thing but, rather, because they were trying to build a craft that could accomplish approximately 90 different things. The all-metal taildragger holds its nose up high to allow for better ground clearance by a big prop. And its trailing link gear made arrivals on rough surfaces a little less jarring. The Wilga was produced pretty much continually in Poland and elsewhere for more than 40 years. More than 1,000 of them made their way into the hands of customers, too. A particularly impressive Wilga conversion was accomplished by Mike Patey. His creation, Draco, took the cringey angles of the original and went even farther with it, including using a turboprop engine. The result isn’t necessarily beautiful, but at least it’s a lot less, well, you know.

On the other hand

The Wilga is simply cool looking, all surfaces and angles like it’s ready to leap into action. It might not be a 10, but it’s a solid 8.

Cessna T-50

The T-50, as fans of the show might remember, was the first airplane owned by the hero of the popular television show Sky King. It was also Cessna’s first twin, and looking at it and the materials it was constructed from, it’s clear that the T-50 was transitional technology, helping pave the way for Cessna, and Sky King, to move on to the new all-metal and decidedly modern model 310. The Bobcat’s snub-nosed look and its almost completely retractable landing gear, coupled with plywood-covered structures and big round engines, give it a decidedly 1930s appearance. Despite it being outmoded at delivery, the twin was a big success for Cessna. It sold more than 5,000 of them, mostly to the United States armed forces.

On the other hand

Like many aircraft from its era, the T-50 was captive to the materials and components available. Its workmanlike balance and presence gives it a handsome familiarity, like that favorite old car that’s dated but still beautiful.

Cessna 337

You’ve noticed that a lot of these planes were purpose-built, and this one is no exception. Except you probably know what that purpose was. The 337 SkyMaster was Cessna’s answer to the question, “How do you make a light twin that isn’t prone to loss of control following an engine failure on takeoff?” The answer was, put one motor on the front and one in the back. The Sky-Smasher had its strengths. It did what Cessna designers set out to accomplish. It wasn’t a lot safer than other twins, and it was loud. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad plane. It carries a good load, it’s a decent cruiser (around 160 knots for the non-pressurized version), and it does have that second engine. Cessna built almost 3,000 of the push-pull twins, and, if we’re being honest, it’s not as ugly as it might have been. So kudos to Cessna for that.

On the other hand

Granted, when its gear is extended, the SkyMaster has a lot, perhaps too much, going on. But when it’s all cleaned up and cruising along, the venerable Cessna push-pull twin is remarkably sleek and powerful looking.

Piper Tri-Pacer

The Piper Tri-Pacer is the answer to the question, asked by Piper back in the day, “How can we build a nosewheel four-seater without designing a whole new plane?” Easy. Put a nose wheel on a Pacer. The result is an aircraft that files okay, carries four svelte friends, and doesn’t cost a lot. But it’s not fast, and, well, look at it. It’s a profile that only a mother could love. But it is much beloved by its owners, which is true for just about every plane on this list. And the Tri-Pacer was very popular. During its 14-year production run, Piper turned out nearly 10,000 of them.

On the other hand

For an airplane that’s supposedly unattractive, the Tri-Pacer, sometimes derided as the “Flying Milk Stool,” is the subject of some of the most beautiful air-to-air photographs of the era. In my view, it’s one of the most underappreciated beauties out there.

Piper Apache

Another snub-nosed twin, the Piper Apache isn’t going to win any beauty contests, but if you can believe it, Piper actually improved its looks after adopting it from Stinson. That original airplane had a twin-tail to go along with its short nose cone, and the combination wasn’t flattering. The Apache is proof that there can be an ugly duckling outcome for planes like this. The more powerful model, called the Aztec, had a redesigned nose for most of its life, and with its larger, more substantial engines and nacelles, it is a handsome-looking airplane. Piper built nearly 7,000 PA-23 Apaches and Aztecs over their nearly 30-year production run.

On the other hand

Where do I begin! Between the Apache and its elongated sibling, the Aztec, the “snub-nosed” model is the clear winner, if not by a nose. Its balanced, harmonious shapes and lines look for all the world like it came into being exactly as it appears. The Aztec, on the other, hand, ruined that symmetry. Just as the Cherokee Six or Cessna 207 look misshapen, the Aztec, too, took the extension too far, literally.

Beechcraft Musketeer

While some of the planes on this list were challenged looks-wise as their designers struggled to make their special purpose configuration less than ungainly, others were clear attempts at doing something the company had never done before. In the case of the BE-23 Musketeer, Beech was hardly new to the all-metal airplane game, but its first (and last foray) into the four-seat entry-level personal plane market showed that making the aerial version of the four-seat family car is not as easy one might suppose. Over the years, the Musketeer kept pretty much the same general look to it, even as Beech rolled out lower- and higher-powered models with new dash numbers even. The shape of the Musketeer, along with Beechcraft’s tragically bad paint schemes and color choices—the last color that this plane needed was brown—didn’t help the plane look any less frumpy. Still, it was a pretty good airplane, if a little slow, and Beech sold more than 4,000 of them while continuing to rake in the big bucks with its Barons and Bonanzas.

On the other hand

The Musketeer and its stablemates suffered from what is admittedly one of the worst nicknames in aviation history. How did Beech not know that it would be forever mocked as the “Mouseketeer?” But the plane itself, I’d argue, while not drop-dead gorgeous, strikes a handsome figure. Had Beech done better with its paint schemes and branding, the much-maligned Musketeer’s place in history would be very different.

The 9 Most Beautiful GA Planes 

The Top Planes of All Time

The post The Ugliest Light Planes (That Only Their Owners Find Beautiful) appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Overshadowed by Concorde where it sits, a Cessna 152 Aerobat occupies a spot in the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum. One might wonder why a common little plane sits in such a hallowed hangar. After all, the Cessna 152 Aerobat, a mildly aerobatic version of the long-running Cessna 150/152 model, one of thousands built, was pretty commonplace, its sporty checkerboard paint scheme and skylight windows notwithstanding. There’s really nothing extraordinary about the plane, is there?

Owners would certainly disagree, and besides, N7557L is no ordinary bird. It was owned by a man who launched untold thousands of dreams of flight (including mine) with his gift for writing flight manuals and instructing. I visit N7557L every time I am at Udvar-Hazy in reverence of its history and its former owner, William K. Kershner.

Bill Kershner, a technical journalism graduate from Iowa State University, a former naval aviator and, later, corporate pilot, was a prolific aviation writer and an ardent educator who shared his knowledge and love for aviation with countless students throughout his long career. Kershner’s Student Pilot’s Flight Manual sold more than a million copies, including one copy that found its way into my hands at the age of 12. My cousin Terry, who flew L-23 Seminoles (better known Stateside as the Beechcraft Queen Air) in Vietnam, recognized that I had the flying bug and sent this gem to me in 1975. I pored over every page of it, my eyes riveted to Kershner’s well-crafted explanations of Bernoulli’s Principle, Venturi effect and L/D max, along with his whimsical illustrations and wry humor. This book opened the door to aviation for me. With the help of his wife, Betty, he wrote and illustrated the Student Pilot’s Flight Manual in 1960, and it is currently in its 11^th edition.

He taught flying, too. In the late 1960s, Kershner created the Ace Aerobatic School at the Franklin County/Sewanee Airport, Tennessee. Over the next 30 years, Bill instructed numerous students in the basics of aerobatics and spin training, with a focus on upset training for instrument-rated pilots. In 1984, Bill bought N7557L for his school and used it as the basis of his illustrations for his newer flight manual. 

After World War II, Cessna redesigned its 120/140 series aircraft with tricycle gear and an O-200 engine and designated it the 150 series. This series quickly became a flight school staple. Some 23,902 Cessna 150s and 7,593 Cessna 152s were built for a series total of 31,533. But only 1,483 of these were Aerobats. The 152 version was a spunky bird, featuring the ruggedly reliable Lycoming O-235 110-hp engine and a beefed-up structure to withstand +6g to -3g forces, perfect metrics for an aerobatic school. Bill loved the handling and spin characteristics of the plane.

Kershner became known as the “spin doctor,” conducting over 7,000 spins, of up to 21 turns, in the Aerobat, sometimes filming it adorned with ribbons or cones for analysis and instruction. Kershner has the unique distinction of being the only pilot who is a member of the International Aerobatic Club and Flight Instructors Halls of Fame.

At the time of his passing in January 2007, Kershner had documented more than 11,000 hours total military and civilian time in his logbook, with 4,300 hours as an instructor. In March of that year, Bill’s son, William C. Kershner, and grandson Jim flew “Orville” on its final journey from Sewanee, Tennessee, to Dulles Airport, Virginia.

The post This Incredible Plane: Cessna 152 Aerobat: Spin Cycle! appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

It was a hot but pretty day in Kansas as we strapped in and got the big Pratt fired up on the Piper M600 SLS, the latest model. We agreed that we were thankful for factory air-conditioning. The taxi was short, the takeoff even shorter—we were pretty light—and even before we had gotten much past the end of the runway, New Century Tower directed us to contact Kansas City Departure, which we did. It was all pretty standard stuff, that is, until Departure asked us what our intentions were. Hmmm.

Well, what we wanted to do was turn loose a new feature on this Piper M600 called Autoland. At that point, the plane would be doing the flying and the thinking for us. We were there almost as observers. But we couldn’t say all that.

The system picked the airport, making the best available choice depending on where we were, what the weather was like, what kind of runways and approaches were available, and what kind of terrain was out there, among others. But that was way too much to tell Kansas City. Instead, my demo pilot for the flight, Eric Sargent, simply told them we’d be maneuvering for five or 10 minutes and then returning to New Century for a full-stop landing—and with a stop on the runway. Kansas City was just fine with this. They’re apparently used to planes with call signs that begin with “Garmin Test!” asking to do things that defy easy explication. Eric flew to an area where he was pretty sure Autoland would pick New Century as our emergency diversion. We then turned Autoland loose to do its thing. Hands off of everything, we sat back and watched the digital magic happen.

Back in 2017, I flew the Piper M-600, a sophisticated six-seat pressurized turboprop single, and loved it. It was, in fact, the Plane & Pilot Plane Of The Year. And this M600, dubbed the M600 SLS (for “Safety, Luxury and Support”) wasn’t very different in most outward regards (unless you’ve got an eagle eye), though it’s got a number of quality-of-life improvements. (See sidebar for more.) One of those is the subject of this article: Autoland. It’s a capability that no other GA plane, scratch that, no FAA-certificated plane has had before, which is the ability to land itself in case of emergency while picking the airport and runway to land at. And that’s just part of what it can do.

Just to be clear, the plane pictured here isn’t an Experimental development prototype model. It’s an FAA-certificated plane that you can buy tomorrow. Call Piper—they’d be delighted to sell you one. And to be additionally clear, the system isn’t software only. It can’t be. There are all kinds of physical automation at work here. The autopilot is only the beginning of it.

Garmin didn’t start this program yesterday. The first Autoland flight was in 2014. Yes, five years ago. And the FAA got worked into the program just a year after that. The first Autoland was in February 2016, three and a half years ago. Now, you might be asking what that first flight was in 2014 if it didn’t land. What the heck? What Garmin did initially was to autoland the plane but with a virtual airport in the sky at a few thousand feet above ground level. For obvious reasons, they held off on the braking and engine shutdown tests for those flights.

What Autoland does is jaw-droppingly cutting edge for small planes. It doesn’t just land the plane. It can do the whole deal, from the first step of detecting that there’s a problem with the pilot (the system can also be manually activated) to the last part, which is shutting down the engine after the plane has safely landed. What happens between those bookend events is remarkable. I won’t say that I flew the M-600 for this demonstration. Once we got up to altitude, no one was flying it. Well, it’s more accurate to say the plane was flying itself. And thinking through the process in almost exactly the same way we human pilots do. One might argue, better than humans can.

The process was fundamentally different from using an autopilot. With typical autoflight, the pilot programs, manages and monitors the system. With Autoland, the pilot’s role, at least in a non-demo-flight mission, eliminates the need for the pilot to do any of those things. It’s autonomous operation.

To get the big question out of the way!no, pilots will not be able to turn on the Autoland feature whenever they feel like “flying” what amounts to a fully autonomous plane. They’ll still have to do all regular landings manually. Autoland is an emergency-only function.

But what will keep pilots from flipping a switch and letting the plane land itself? Something that’s remarkably simple: natural consequences. If you program the plane to go land itself somewhere, which is remarkably easy to do, the system will automatically dial up ATC and declare an emergency. Then you’ll have some explaining to do. Will that keep pilots from doing it anyway? Oh, yes it will. If you’re a pilot, you didn’t even have to think about it. And as far as getting around that automatic emergency declaration, well, you can’t.

But if you have a true emergency, there’s nothing that would stop you from giving the plane to Autoland and letting it find a good airport to land at. In addition, it will do the landing, the braking and the stopping of the plane, as well as shutting down the engine—big props spinning in the vicinity of non-aviation-savvy occupants exiting an airplane under less-than-ideal circumstances is a bad idea.

In its materials, Garmin gives two activation scenarios. These are, of course, just two of numerous possibilities. The first is, the plane is cruising along at 20,000 feet and detects no activity from the pilot over a period of time. It will first try to get the pilot’s attention. If there’s still no response, EDM will activate and descend the plane to a lower altitude. After a short while at that altitude, if no activity is detected, Autoland will activate and go through the emergency autoland procedure.

Perhaps less likely in airplanes as capable as the Piper M600, another scenario would be a VFR-only pilot, or one whose skills are very rusty, getting in over their head in instrument conditions while hand-flying the airplane and beginning to lose control of the plane. Garmin points out that the first step will be envelope protection, ESP, keeping the plane inside the edges of the flight envelope with gentle nudges. After a time, ESP will get firmer in its correction. If the pilot still doesn’t respond to keep the plane under control, ESP will activate the Straight and Level Mode (which, of course, the pilot could have done on their own). If the pilot doesn’t disengage the autopilot after a period of time, Autoland will activate.

Garmin stresses that the pilot can retain control of the plane at any time during the process.

The decision to make Autonomi an emergency-only system was in part related to the fact that Piper had to get the M600 certified with the new, game-changing feature. Since using it immediately makes the event an officially declared emergency, the FAA sees Autonomi as a safety system that by definition is better than the alternative. And so it granted the Autonomi-equipped M600 certification.

And knowing the folks at Piper and at Garmin, they believe very strongly in pilots and the role aviators play in the cockpit. Neither company was ready to relinquish control of the plane to, well, to the plane.

Context For The Future

What is Autoland, and how does it fit in with other Garmin safety features? Autoland is a part of a suite of enhanced autoflight and intelligent automation utilities that Garmin calls “Autonomi.” The other two utilities are Electronic Stability and Protection (ESP) (which is Garmin’s envelope protection package) and Emergency Descent Mode (EDM), which will descend the plane automatically if the pilot becomes incapacitated. Autoland is the third leg of Autonomi. It integrates with and takes both ESP and EDM a step or three further. ESP will keep you from departing the flight envelope and, hence, prevent loss of control. EDM will sense if a pilot is incapacitated, most likely due to hypoxia, and descend the plane to an altitude where the air is more breathable.

Autoland gets the plane safely on the ground.

I know—I’ve done it.

It’s Not Just Software

If you think through the steps required to get an airplane on the ground, stopped and engine shut down, it should be obvious that Autoland requires additional equipment.

On the M600, those things are:

• Garmin Autothrottle (yes, we’re excited about that too)
• Autobrake
• Flaps and gear authority
• Shutdown access
• A radar altimeter

Autoland won’t work without at least those additional functions, which means additional hardware.

When It Works

As I said, Autoland is an emergency function. If you use it, the system declares an emergency, a real rolling-the-equipment, filling-out-paperwork, talking-to-the-FAA kind of emergency. Then again, in every instance in which Autoland has to be activated (or activates itself), that’s precisely what you want. Well, maybe not the part about the FAA.

Autoland can be activated either by the pilot or a passenger. Or it can activate itself, just as Garmin’s emergency descent utility does. Autoland will detect if the pilot is incapacitated!if no one makes a command of some kind every several minutes, the system will notice, first querying the pilot and then, if no response is forthcoming, beginning the emergency response.

Likewise, a pilot who had determined there’s an emergency situation and doesn’t feel as though they can safely get the plane on the ground can initiate Autoland.

Lastly, if the pilot becomes incapacitated, a passenger can manually start Autoland. How will they know what to do? Autoland will be a part of every preflight briefing with passengers, so they know the drill. After Autoland has been activated, the system begins to communicate with the passengers. This is cool stuff. Piper and Garmin have created an interface that tells the passenger what is and will soon be happening, what to do and how to prepare for it. The directions, which display on the large MFD screens, are clear, concise and, dare I say it, reassuring.

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How It Works

After the system is activated, either manually or automatically, the computer starts looking for an airport to land at. (Remember that the engine is still running fine.) Think about the calculus that goes into this decision. Autoland has to take into account weather, both between you and the airport and at the airport itself. You need to avoid hitting any obstacles or terrain, and you’ve got to aim for a runway that’s long and wide enough and has favorable winds. The system will land you downwind, so long as the tailwind component is light. Finally, the system needs a GPS-based approach with both lateral and vertical guidance. How long does it take Autonomi to make that decision? Garmin volunteered that information: a third of a second.

How does it work in the real world? Back to the cockpit. Eric knew that from a position to the south and slightly to the east of Olathe, New Century, the system would almost certainly choose that airport as the “diversion” destination. Still, you could see the gears in his head whirring as he mentally plugged into his own head the factors he knew Autonomi would use in making its choice. And he was right. Then again, he has flown 300 such landings with the system.

Once Autonomi goes to work, it takes control of the plane, notifying the occupants—remember that the pilot might be unresponsive—of what it’s doing, where it’s going, what will happen next and how to prepare the cockpit for the landing. Autonomi wasn’t intended for pilots only, so the messaging, including the choice of words, tone and timing, are all aimed at an adult non-pilot. Piper worked with Garmin to get the messaging right, and succeeded.

The alerts are shown on the displays and also are given as audible messages over the intercom system.

At the point when Autonomi takes control of the plane—the pilot can always get it back—it has already decided on an alternate airport and runway, and will begin messaging the occupants and turning toward that airport. It has control of the power, so it will apply or decrease thrust according to its new flight plan. When the time comes, it will reduce power, apply flaps, lower the gear, put in landing flaps and set the M600 up for a stabilized final approach.

“To get the big question out of the way!no, pilots will not be able to turn on the Autoland feature whenever they feel like “flying” what amounts to a fully autonomous plane.”

On our flight, Autonomi was nearly flawless. Our final approach, to Runway 18 at New Century, was right on the money, with the “needles” centered and the plane properly configured for the landing. The touchdown flare was really good, and the mains hit right on the aiming mark, with the nose gear adding its chirp to the conversation a second later. Like other PA-46s, the M600 SLS does take a bit of skill to land well. Did Autoland do better than I would have done? On a good day, I’d have done as well!is what I tell myself.

One quirk of the M600 is that it will veer on landing if the nose wheel isn’t straight, and we got a little bit of a veer to the right, maybe 15 feet, while we were decelerating, but the system quickly corrected and got us stopped quickly.

To save wear and tear and cycles on the engine in its M600 developmental plane, and because we didn’t want to be shutting down on an active runway, Garmin deactivated the auto shutdown for our flight, so I didn’t get to see that. Then again, it’s not a particularly challenging feat for a system that can do what Autoland can.

Once again, this system is certified and available on the Piper M600.

What will the pilot community’s reaction be to Autoland? I underestimated the degree of animosity many pilots would have toward the whole-airplane parachute system that Cirrus introduced on its first certified plane, the SR20. Will pilots react as strongly to this latest development, a plane that can land itself in case of pilot incapacitation or other emergency? I don’t think so. Instead, I’m guessing that in the nearly 20 years since the Cirrus Airframe Parachute came along, pilots have gotten a lot more comfortable with all kinds of outside-the-box safety systems, including automation.  

Besides, unlike with a chute activation, which can greatly damage or destroy the aircraft, after an emergency solved by Autoland, the plane will be just fine. As, hopefully, the occupants will be, as well.

I’ve been lucky enough in my career as an aviation journalist to see some of the most important developments in the history of aviation and to fly the planes that used that new gear. From affordable computerized navigation computers to flat-panel displays to autothrottles to whole-airplane parachute systems to weather in the cockpit, I’ve witnessed firsthand some remarkable, game-changing innovations in aviation.

Because of the likely impact of the technology on the future of general aviation, I think that Autoland is the biggest story of them all. I can’t wait to see what comes down the line.

Pilots (and their families) will soon hear the loud buzz about Autoland and begin asking for it. And while Piper is first with the installation of Autoland in its award-winning turboprop single, don’t expect it to be the only plane maker to install the gear. Not by a long shot. Because it can be adapted to any airframe (the economics of doing so aside), Autoland will almost certainly see new installations in different planes from different companies, and soon.

The world of aviation has just changed.

Read More About the Piper M600 SLS & Garmin Autoland:

Teaching Garmin Autoland To Think Like A Pilot
The Garmin Autoland Activation Sequence
Why The Piper M600 SLS Is Remarkable

The post Piper M600 SLS: The First Production Plane That Lands Itself appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

We’d lucked out. It was a gorgeous winter afternoon in Sebring, Florida, a comic book periwinkle sky, just an insinuation of wind, and, I imagined, the kind of visibility from up higher that would allow one to make out Vero Beach on the Atlantic coast and then, upon turning, spy Sarasota on the Gulf Coast on the other side of the famously flat peninsula. It was, in short, the kind of day that comes around too seldom in Florida in January, so when it does, you just have to go flying. And that was the plan.

Across the field there was, indeed, plenty of flying going on, aircraft strutting around the pattern in the daily flybys at the Sport Aviation Expo: a yellow gyroplane zooming down and rising back up and coming around to do it again (and again); a white and red tube and rag big tire machine on short final threatening to go into a full hover; and a little composite nose gear LSA demonstrating to the onlookers the opposite—that is, just how fast it really is, the LSA regs be damned. Regardless of what’s in the air, the backing soundtrack at Sebring is the same, auto racing, the late-model sports cars rounding the track with their Doppler growls and whines, Porsches, Jaguars and the occasional Italian job, a Ferrari, maybe a Lambo, as they ricochet their laps around the world-famous Sebring International Raceway.

As much fun as driving the track is, and it is, the view from a sports car pales in comparison to that from a plane, and I was the lucky one here because I was going flying. I would, in fact, be flying in a brand-new airplane, one that’s not really new at all but was new to me and is probably new to you, as well. That plane, the Ameravia Vulcanair V1.0 (words my spell-checker rejects one and all as if to underscore how unusual the plane is), is made in Italy and imported to the U.S., where distributor Ameravia outfits them and sells them. It hopes to sell a lot of them. I hoped to find out just how good a plane it was.

As we pulled up in the shuttle bus, the V1.0 (I wonder what owners will actually call it instead of the clunky designation) caught my eye, looking shiny and pretty on the temporary ramp on this far side of KSEB, a parking area created just for the airshow overflow, which, I guess, included us today.

Admittedly, the setting seemed inauspicious, and it was, but at the same time the V.1.0’s pedigree is just that, “inauspicious.” There are around 300 of the planes out in the field, many of them in Europe. That said, I learned long ago not to judge an airplane by its history. There are some really good airplanes that for one of a handful of really important reasons never made it big, and this might just be one of them.

Speaking of which, when I said the V1.0 wasn’t really a new airplane, I meant it’s really not new, as in, it’s been around in one form or another for 50 years. And neither is the company new—well, not really.

The post The Vulcanair Is The Not So ‘New’ Kid In Town appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

On the ramp in the mist, the Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet, which many still call the “Cirrus Jet,” is a figure of some mystery. When I posted a photo on my Facebook page of the plane viewed from the rear, its distinctive V-tail prominent, a friend asked if it was a “Bugatti.” Now, the Bugatti, developed at the tail end of the Golden Era of air racing, was a single-engine speedster with a distinctive V-tail. The slick little number makes a lot of lists of the most beautiful airplanes of all time. The Vision Jet!not so much. It is, in contrast, the AMC Pacer of planes, a deeply polarizing aesthetic experience. Me? I like it.

Then again, I’ve flown it a few times, so I’m biased. It’s an airplane unlike any in the worldwide fleet that does things that few other planes can in a way that is unique. It is the unicorn of general aviation planes.

It’s a jet, let’s not forget. And the big bullet point on this update is that it has autothrottles. Oops, autothrottle. I have a hard time referring to “engine” and not “engines” when it comes to the SF50, though I’ve made progress. Keeping autothrottle singular is a work in progress. It is the only civil jet in the world with such a technology.

Autothrottles are not new to me. I’ve flown a dozen jets with this technology—Gulfstreams, Embraers, Falcons and Citations—and even though I didn’t fully understand the appeal of the technology before I flew with it 15 years ago, I have over time developed a strong appreciation for the safety benefits autothrottles bring to flying jets. There’s zero doubt in my mind that SF50 flyers will feel the same.

But with the introduction of its SF50 Generation 2, or “G2”—the company is reprising the naming convention it developed for the SR20 and SR22 piston singles—Cirrus has created something that is a brand-new experience for me, well, and anyone else who gets to fly it: a single-engine, single-pilot jet with a Boeing 787 level of technological sophistication. And truth be told, the Vision Jet makes better use of such sophistication than the Boeings or Airbus beauties do because when you’re flying single pilot, the fewer things you need to keep track of, the more safely you can fly, especially when things get busy.

I have a single pilot type rating in a few small jets, the Cessna CitationJet CJ through CJ4, none of which have autothrottles—not yet, at least (and that’s me, not Textron speculating here)—and I know from simulator experience that when things get busy with emergencies, managing airspeed and engine health on non-FADEC, non-autothrottle engines makes already challenging circumstances even more difficult to safely manage.

The post We Fly The Cirrus Vision Jet Generation 2 appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

I’ve flown a number of jets with autothrottles, Gulfstreams, Embraers, Falcons and Citations, and even though I didn’t fully understand the appeal of the technology before I flew with it 15 years ago now, I developed a deep appreciation of the safety benefits autothrottles bring to flying jets.

But with the introduction of its Generation 2 Cirrus Vision Jet, Cirrus created something that was a brand new experience for me: a single-engine, single-pilot jet with a Boeing 787 level of technological sophistication. And truth be told, the Vision Jet makes better use of it than Boeings or Airbus beauties do because when you’re flying single pilot, the fewer things you need to keep track of, the more safely you can fly, especially when things get busy.

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I have single pilot type ratings in a jet, the Cessna CitationJet CJ through CJ4, none of which have autothrottles, yet at least (and that’s me, not Textron speculating here), and I know from simulator experience that when things get busy with emergencies, managing airspeed and engine health on non-FADEC, non-autothrottle engines make already challenging circumstances even more difficult to safely manage.

With the G2, Cirrus has improved the plane in multiple ways, and not just by adding the Garmin autothrottles (which I’d flown before on a couple of Citations). They cleaned up the wing, eliminating aerodynamic fences between the flaps and ailerons, along with removing the vortex generators. Cirrus also worked with engine maker Williams International to turn up the wick on the FJ-33 turbofan above 24,000 feet (essentially by upping the allowable temps) so the jet can climb faster to its new RVSM ceiling of 31,000 feet.

The added oomph allows the jet to go faster at its previous ceiling of FL 280—we had it up to 317 knots true at 280—while allowing it to cruise at its previous numbers (actually, a bit faster in my test of it) while burning less fuel and stretching the range by about 150 nm, a very substantial increase.

Passengers will enjoy the numerous interior upgrades, too, the most noteworthy of which is the addition of more comfortable, more fully-padded second-row chairs (there are three rows of seats in the seven-seat jet). Cirrus also added a removable console between the two second-row seats (which I did not get a chance to see). The console gives passengers a place to store their stuff and set their drinks and tablets and quarterly reports.

Of the jets I’ve spent time in, the SF50 is the easiest jet to fly, and not by a little. That fact is not an accident. The design of its systems, a collaboration mainly between Cirrus and Garmin International, is nothing short of brilliant.

Takeoff is pretty simple, though on our pre-takeoff briefing instead of discussing V1 cuts (there is no second engine) we briefed what to do if the one and only engine were to fail, depending, of course, on what altitude you get to before the engine stops doing its job. It is, I admit, a pretty remote possibility with the FJ33s, a development of the FJ44, which is possibly the most time-tested private jet engine ever. And remember, there’s a chute, too. Just as you do with the Cirrus SR22 single-engine piston plane, you steer the SF50 with differential braking. On the takeoff roll, you need to get it rolling–with autothrottles armed, you just advance the throttle to the stops–before the rudder becomes effective. Rotate at around 90 knots—the software calculates the exact V-speeds for you before flight—flip the gear up (this Cirrus does have retracts!), retract the flaps, and then climb away.

But the automation goodness doesn’t stop there. On the climb, the combination of the Garmin Perspective Plus avionics suite, FADEC and autothrottles not only keep the engine within limits but also keep you below the airspace speed limit, 200 knots in the Austin Class C we were departing from, for instance.

For more details on the flight, including some additional, incredibly impressive autothrottle tricks, check out our cover story in an upcoming issue of Plane & Pilot.

Cost for the G2 Vision Jet is around $2.7 million for the jet with all the goods, including autothrottle, updated seating, paint scheme and more.

Click on the buttons below to see more photos of theCirrus Vision Jet Generation 2.

In addition to other functions, the Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet’s new Garmin autothrottles adjust thrust to stay within airspace speed restrictions, keeps the airspeed from exceeding the maximum value while at the lower end of the envelope, protecting the plane from inadvertent stalls.

The post We Fly The Cirrus Vision Jet Generation 2 appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

When Fort Lauderdale, Florida-based Premier Aircraft Sales introduced its Premier Edition Piper Dakota in late 2017, the company was understandably curious to see how the market would respond. In theory, there would be great interest. The idea was compelling: By taking low-time PA-28-235 airframes and performing an extensive restoration, Premier could offer buyers an airplane that does what a new Dakota would do and then some, if you could buy one, which you can’t, and at a fraction of the cost. Who wouldn’t like the sound of that?

Fred Ahles, president and founder of Premier Aircraft Sales, explained that in his view, there’s “no good used equivalent for the Dakota” at near this price point. Premier sells the refurbished Dakota for between $260,000 and $325,000, depending on avionics. Ahles suggested that an equivalent model would cost $500,000 or more. While a figure north of $300,000 sounds like a lot for a 40-year-old airplane, the truth is, it’s cheaper than many new planes of less performance.

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Piper introduced what it called the Cherokee 235 back in 1963 to compete against what is, till today, the plane’s most natural rival, the Cessna 182 Skylane. With a Lycoming O-540 engine and a longer wing (and with tip tanks), the 235 could carry more than the 182 and go farther, too. In the early ’70s, Piper stretched the fuselage to give the rear occupants more legroom and changed the name to the Pathfinder. In the late ’70s, Piper swapped the beloved Hershey’s bar wing for the newer, tapered wing. The final Piper version of the Dakota featured the Continental turbocharged TSIO-360-FB engine, the same engine as in the Turbo Arrow of the day. It is this airplane, and there weren’t that many built, that Premier finds and extensively refurbishes.

While there has been healthy interest in the Premier Edition Dakota, according to the company, and while it has made several sales, some, especially those operating at higher elevations, want the added performance benefit of a turbocharged engine. Premier has responded to the interest with a Turbo Dakota, a plane that Premier says has all the beauty of the original with a much-improved engine.

The original Piper PA-28-201T Turbo Dakota had a very short production run. In fact, it was only available for the 1979 model year. The biggest issue was the use of a rather problematic, fixed-wastegate controller on the original, 210 horsepower Continental TSIO-360-FB engine.

According to Barry Rutheiser, regional sales manager with Premier, with the original fixed-wastegate, even if you were down at 4,000 feet and didn’t need it, the unit was still going full speed, and that made the turbocharger less reliable and managing the engine a lot more challenging. It was just hard to nail down a manifold pressure at cruise. It was always changing. Because of that, the engine/turbocharger combination got a deserved bad reputation.

To eliminate those issues on its refurbished model, Premier replaced the old fixed-wastegate with a new Merlyn Automatic Wastegate Controller. Now, all the operations are handled automatically, so it’s a lot easier to manage. Plus, as so configured, the engine delivers a number of other benefits, including faster cruise speeds, quicker climb rates, lower temperatures and more economical fuel burn at cruise.

The “Mother Of All Annuals”

Aside from the engines, turbo- or non-, every Premier Edition Dakota undergoes a super-detailed inspection by the experienced Piper technicians at Premier Aircraft Services (the company’s in-house MRO arm)—or, as Rutheiser describes it, “The first really good annual inspection any of these airplanes have had in at least 10-years.”

Rutheiser said that what Premier has found is typically these older airplanes have been in the hands of owners and mechanics who were doing the minimum needed to pass FAA muster every year. Because of that, its policy is to follow the Piper factory-recommended guide and do everything in the book, which takes time and isn’t cheap.

Premier said that the in-house annuals have been running between $20,000 and $30,000 on these airframes—and that doesn’t include the engine rebuild. Most of the repairs are due to the array of age-related issues in the airframe, and nothing is left unfixed.

One of the oft-overlooked (ignored?) items that Premier addresses is the long-standing Piper Service Bulletin on the inspection of the fuel lines that come out of the backs of the fuel tanks.

“The fuel tank inspection is recommended to be done every 15 years, so that’s what we do,” Ahles said. “You may not have a visible fuel leak, but we find seepage in the little lines at the back of the tanks that feed the fuel system. It’s small, but over time it can build up and cause corrosion on the wing spar. So, of course, we inspect the spars for any signs of damage.”

As Ahles explained it, after the fuel tanks are removed, the entire system is cleaned and inspected. It’s not an isolated issue. Premier says that it has yet to find one that doesn’t have some type of leak.

“These are simple little $8 rubber hoses that cost around $2,200 to change, but it has to be done,” Ahles said. “Who wants to buy an airplane with a leaking fuel line? Not me. And I won’t sell one, either.”

After the airframe is inspected tip-to-tail and repairs are made, the control cables are all recalibrated to factory-new specifications, and new stainless-steel hardware is installed.

Interior Enhancements

Since the Premier team dedicated such an effort to the engine and airframe, it’s no surprise that it upgraded the interior to match. If anything, the interior treatment is even more complete than the airframe or the engine. Premier’s interior shop experts take the original seats and strip them down to the bare frames and then add high-end seat foam, reshaping the bottoms and backs, resulting in a finished product that Ahles says is not only “much more comfortable” than the original equipment but also comparable, he concludes, to what you’d get “with a new Meridian.”

When it comes to the avionics package, Ahles said each owner specs out the panel to their liking, and there’s a wide range of potential combinations. Premier offers everything from a basic six-pack of steam gauges to a glass panel built around Garmin’s new 500TXi glass and GTN 750 touchscreen GPS units. In the process, the plane leaves the shop fully ADS-B compliant and with ADS-B in, as well.

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Finish

As you would expect, while the true measure of a quality rebuild is what’s under the paint, it’s that glossy finish that everyone sees.

Premier partners with nearby paint shop Ormond Beach Aviation in Ormond Beach, Florida, and as with the avionics, the customer gets to spec out the paint colors, though Premier models its paint schemes current-model PA-28. Before it gets its first coat, every Dakota is stripped to bare metal and acid washed, including all the areas around the window surrounds, door edges and access panels, all with the singular goal of being prepped so it can be painted to the highest quality. Ahles is a believer in the high quality and compares the finish with those on brand-new planes, saying that, “Twenty years from now, these airplanes will still look terrific.”

The Process

While Premier Aircraft Sales started the Premier Edition Dakota program to stimulate sales of legacy Dakotas, Ahles said that if you’re lucky enough to already own one of these exceptionally capable airplanes, Premier is ready to work with you to upgrade it to your specifications.

“Should an owner bring us their Dakota, we can do any or all of our upgrades on their aircraft,” he said. “It’s totally up to the owner’s wants and wishes.”

As for the price, again, that’s totally up to what you want done. “I’d say it’s best to start with one of our detailed annuals and go from there,” he said. “That way the owner will know what condition the aircraft is really in and determine their upgrade path.”

The Premier Dakota can carry four full-sized adults and 72 gallons of 100LL while still having enough useful load for 100 pounds of bags so, yes, the Premier Dakota maintains the model’s reputation for being a great load hauler. As far as performance is concerned, the Premier Dakota compares quite favorably to the original. Premier has done some unofficial performance checks—remember, though, that these are essentially one-off refurbishments—and got some great numbers. At 4,000 feet, the Merlyn controller delivers a five-knot cruise boost while lowering the fuel burn by a half-gallon per hour. It also helps keep critical engine temperatures down below book numbers. That goes a long way to increasing range and cutting down on fuel costs.

While Premier isn’t likely to sell dozens of like-new Dakotas a year, it seems likely to keep a steady flow of business with an airplane that’s in many ways like new while being more comfortable and even better performing than the original, an airplane that owners tended to love in the first place.

The post Premier Turbo Dakota appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

In an iconic piece of aviation advertising, Belford D. Maule, universally known as B.D., used to tail his demonstrator ship deep into his Moultrie, Georgia, hangar. In a blast of noise and a cloud of dust, he shot out the front door with the nose angling sharply to the sky, the giant “MAULE” letters on the front face of the hangar clearly visible. Captured on film, that image formed the centerpiece of Maule marketing materials for decades, and Sam Lyons later immortalized the act with his painting “Be Back In A Minute.”

Fifty years later, Spence Air Base doubles as a fairground. Taxiing to the nearest runway is now a 10-minute affair of nosing through chain-link gates, slaloming light poles and picking between the buildings that house Moultrie’s Agricultural Exposition. The company’s reins have changed hands through the generations, but the Maule aircraft design remains soundly fixed, with a few nods to modern technology and innovation to improve its designs. Maule’s MX-7-180B demonstrator recently took wing sporting a few backcountry modifications as the company tailors the design to customers’ needs.

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A Longstanding Family Business

The passion for slow-flying machines came early for Maule. While enlisted in the U.S. Army, he became a mechanic on dirigibles, and at that same time he designed and built his first airplane, the M-1. With its 27-horsepower coming from a motorcycle engine, the M-1 looked more like a Bleriot monoplane than the Maule of today, but it was a solid beginning for a man whose passion for flight and knack for inventions kept him in business for life. A mechanical starter design opened his first business; his later designs of tailwheel mechanisms and fabric testing tools helped Maule’s products find use by operators of airplanes from many manufacturers.

In 1952, B.D. Maule began designing the M-4, which took flight in 1957 and received certification in 1961. In 1968, the Maule family moved from Jackson, Michigan, to their current home in Moultrie, Georgia. Located on the former Spence Air Base, the factory continues to hand-build utilitarian aircraft that haven’t changed a whole lot since its inception — and while it isn’t setting any records with its production numbers, the production line hasn’t stopped since its first bird rolled out the front door. That’s something few of the industry giants can say about their single-engine product lines. And as the locals in South Georgia will tell you, it ain’t bragging if it’s true.

After Maule died, aged 83, in 1995, the company continued under the leadership of his bride, June, until her passing in 2009 at age 92. Their son Ray headed up the company until his death in January at age 83. Today, a much younger face runs the show. Brent Maule, Ray’s son and B.D.’s grandson, heads the operation. The plant employs about 30 people, including some young faces who are the fourth generation of the Maule family in the business.

To date, Maule has produced just shy of 2,600 airplanes, with power ranging from 145 to 420 horsepower, with engines made by Lycoming, Franklin, Continental and Allison. You can order up a taildragger with spring or oleo gear or, if need be, a nose wheel. Floats and skis are options. The M-9’s deeper fuselage allows for a fifth seat in back. They’re flexible on panel equipment. Maule has been called the “Mister Potato Head” of aircraft manufacturers owing to the interchangeability of major components to custom tailor airframes to its customers’ needs, and that flexibility has helped keep them in business all these years.

While Maule never closed the doors of its factory, recent years have seen some low production numbers. The 2017 General Aviation Manufacturers Association report shows no airplanes sold — but that report is incomplete. The 2016 report shows Maule shipped out one copy each of its MX-7-180C, M-7-235C and M-7-260C aircraft. By those numbers, the company’s 2017 gross sales would only just barely buy a new Cessna 206. There were Maules still rolling out the door, but the family member who’d handled GAMA reporting had passed and many deliveries went unreported. “We’re still in business,” Brent said, “And this year has seen a strong upswing of orders.”

Getting To Know The MX-7

The MX-7-180B is Maule’s base model. With four seats in the standard arrangement and an easily removable rear seat, the MX-7 can quickly swap between a four-seat family airplane and a backcountry camping or cargo hauler configuration. The two doors for the rear seat and cargo area are both on the right side of the fuselage—the door for the rear seat opens forward, and the cargo bin door hinges aft to create an opening that will accommodate any reasonable load. The 42-inch cabin width at the shoulders is 2.5 inches wider than a Cessna Skyhawk. A carbureted Lycoming O-360-C1F pushes 180 horsepower through a Hartzell 76-inch constant speed prop, offering reliability and ease of maintenance with a firewall-forward section familiar to nearly any FBO mechanic. The structures are conventional, maintainable and rugged. The wings are strut-braced aluminum; the fuselage and tail feathers are steel structures covered in Ceconite fabric.

The stock panel sports a standard, analog six-pack and a JPI 930 engine monitor. Maule’s small-volume production allows each owner to tailor the panel to their individual needs. Basic VFR and IFR panels are installed in-house, while advanced custom IFR panels are generally installed after ferrying to an avionics shop. The demonstrator flown for this review sported a clock, airspeed indicator, altimeter and compass, an EDM engine monitor, transponder and comm radio, along with an AirGizmos dock for a Garmin Aera 660. The minimalist panel saves pounds of weight that might otherwise be used for fuel, people or cargo. For low-time Maule drivers taking a demonstration flight, it means that a quick glance at the panel will never yield extraneous information. When the only needles in front of you are airspeed and altitude, you won’t be hunting for the right instrument.

Maule interiors are functional and simple. The seats are fabric, with leather as an option, and the heavy-duty carpet won’t protest when using a shop vacuum on muddy footprints. There aren’t a lot of plastic pieces to break when wrestling something heavy into the back. The manual flap handle, trim wheel and vertical column for the flight controls occupy the space between the pilot’s right leg and the front passenger’s left leg.

On the sidewall by the pilot’s left knee, the three-position fuel selector offers selections for off, or either or both of the 21.5-gallon left and right tanks. The auxiliary tanks offer another 21 gallons of useable fuel, which is transferred into the main tanks via electric fuel pumps. That 85-gallon fuel capacity gives the MX-7 long legs but requires that you pay attention to the fuel load when hauling anything more than two adults. With full tanks, 510 pounds of fuel eats up almost half of the airplane’s 1,030-pound useful load. The endurance the main tanks offer is plenty for most owners and operators. Once Cessna drivers learn to temper those “top her off” fuel requests to “mains only,” the problem is solved. All four fuel tanks are metal and removable, bypassing the long-term maintenance woes of a leaking sealed wing or dry-rotted rubber fuel bladders.

Maule offers a multitude of choices for landing gear. Within the MX-7 family, the MX-7-180B has an oleo absorber gear with a 6-foot track that offers light weight, an option for extended gear legs, and the spacing between the main wheels matches well with wheeled vehicles if your backcountry needs include landing on roads. The MX-7-180C sits on an aluminum spriung gear with a wider stance at 7 feet, 10 inches but weighs 75 pounds more than the B model. If you’re worried about ground handling, the MXT-7-180 couples the sprung aluminum gear with a nose wheel to help with ground handling and insurance. Main wheels are available from the stock size of 7.00-6 through 35-inch bushwheels. The tail of the demonstrator is perched on an Airframes Alaska Baby Bush Wheel.

A quirk of the Maule family is worth noting: Flaps 0 and Flaps up are not the same thing in a Maule. In cruise, those wings are creating enough lift that the nose-low attitude to maintain level flight creates additional drag. In cruise, the flaps are reflexed seven degrees up to cancel out excess lift and put the nose back on the horizon, gaining a few knots in cruise. As you grab the handle and start pulling, the first click stops the flaps at zero degrees, used for normal climbs. The second notch, at 24 degrees, is used for takeoff and best-angle climbs over an obstacle, while the third andfourth notches at 40 and 48 degrees, respectively, are used for landing.

If you’re the type who paces off a field and hits the slide rule for performance calculations, prepare for an anxiety attack. The Maule POHs, all of which are available for download online, have no performance tables, and the checklists are correspondingly brief.

Flying The MX-7-180

Given the bush wheels and extended gear legs, climbing into the cabin is a daunting task for first-timers. To climb into the seat, start with the gear leg’s step, then grab the steel tube over the glareshield, swinging in while using the seat back as a balancing point. The engine starts just like any other carbureted Lycoming: Mags on, mixture rich, prime if needed, and turn the key. Taxiing out from the Maule factory, the visibility over the nose is surprising: Even with the nose pointed skyward on the big tires and long gear legs, the view isn’t bad. Looking straight ahead, you get enough view to see the centerline well ahead, although you’ll want to S-turn or lean out the window to see anything very close and ahead, such as when the neighborhood dog trots out to say hello.

Foregoing a long taxi to the runway, Maule factory pilots instead use the ramp in front of the hangar as a runway, which is ample for their needs. With a notch of flaps deployed, we powered up, dropped the brake and launched. Despite being the lowest-powered offering from Maule, the acceleration was appreciable as the prop turned up toward 2,600 RPM. Maule demo pilot Kit Wilkes pushed the nose briskly to level, then, as we reached flying speed, he hauled back with the assertiveness we’ve come to expect after watching Valdez STOL contest videos. The tailwheel thumped back to the asphalt for half a second, then we clawed into the air, clearing pine trees and powerlines by a comfortable margin. The stall horn chirped a few times in the initial climb, but the wings gave no indication of quitting as we climbed out just shy of 50 knots with a steep nose-up attitude.

There’s no VSI in the demo ship, and the broken layer of scud meant we leveled off quickly. Maule claims a climb rate of 1,000 feet per minute at gross. We were about 450 pounds under gross with two pilots and half tanks in the mains, and nothing but air in the aux tanks. The 85-degree June morning in Georgia’s sultry humidity was far from standard, but working planes don’t wait around for standard days.

Visibility in cruise is excellent, and a full-sized Plexiglas cabin roof makes the cabin seem even larger than it is. A retracting sun shield overhead helps to cut down on glare when needed. When rolling into a turn, the seating position behind the wing’s leading edge does present a limited view, but looking before turning quickly becomes habit. The front door windows can be opened in flight up to 120 knots; window cutouts and built-in cabin vents offer moderated airflow when an open window is too much. The Maule is a trim airplane: You’ll want to reach for the pitch trim wheel whenever you move the throttle. It also demands a heavy dose of right rudder on climb; maneuvering, you’ll want to lead the ailerons a little with rudder as well.

Cruising speed does take about a 10-knot hit with the long legs and fat tires hanging below. At 24″ manifold pressure and 2,400 rpm, we showed about 90 knots as we worked our way into a clear spot to climb up for stalls. Power on, clean, the stall broke at about 40 knots indicated with a mild left wing drop. With full flaps, the power-on stall still dropped to the left, but the airspeed indicator wasn’t much help at that point. Power off and clean, the roll to the left tamed a bit more. With flaps out and power off, it wouldn’t break. Between the vortex generators and a forward CG, there just wasn’t enough elevator to force the stall, and we settled into a fairly stable sink, just below 35 knots, interpreting between the airspeed indicator that was showing zero and the GPS groundspeed, as the winds aloft were negligible.

Approaches flown to two grass runways showed a comfortable approach speed of 50 knots with full flaps. On short final, slowing a bit and a little added power allowed a fairly steep approach angle. The sink rate became apparent once near treetop height, which is easily arrested with a judicious flare.

The big wheels absorb a lot of energy, and heavy application of the double-puck brakes had us stopped easily shy of 1,000 feet on wet grass, with an occasional minor slip of the tires. One must be mindful that the landing gear does hang pretty low, and the tires will meet earth a moment earlier than expected by the uninitiated. When flying into improved airports, two notches of flaps and a less elevator-like arrival yield approach angles comfortable to most general aviation pilots. On asphalt, those tires make for a fairly forgiving landing, even if the pilot has Airbus feet. Maule ground handling is the stuff of legend in hangar-flying circles, but the Maule makes no unreasonable demand of airman skill—the plane does what you ask. There is a lot of vertical tail surface, so weathervaning into a crosswind is a concern. The maximum demonstrated crosswind component is 10 knots, but that’s a demonstrated number, not a limitation. The max demonstrated crosswind takeoff and landings were done at zero flaps. Like with any taildragger, you’ll want to stay on top of things, though, and with a couple hours of meaningful instruction, any aviator should be able to handle landings in a variety of conditions. Operating the bushwheels on paved surfaces causes considerable tire wear, so it’s best to find grass when you can. At $3,590 a pair, Brent Maule says, “these wheels have a way of turning a $100 hamburger into a $250 hamburger.”

It’s hard to argue against the Maule’s bang for the buck. As far as competitors on the marketplace, a Carbon Cub offers amazing STOL performance but does so with half the seats. A Cessna 172 provides as many seats and better cruise speed but can’t touch the short field performance, and a new Skyhawk is the better part of $100,000 more than the MX-7-180B’s sticker price. As certified airplanes go, the Maule has a comfortable niche, and with a strengthening order book, the Maule family should be churning out these workhorses for years to come. PP

The post Maule MX-7-180: Barebones With Big Tires For Big Fun appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

This marks the third year of our Plane & Pilot Plane of the Year recognition for the most impressive design in light GA, and as we knew when we launched the award, new designs in light aviation are not as common as they used to be.

Still, this year’s winner is a special plane that took home the hardware after a unanimous vote. The Mooney Ovation Ultra takes the Mooney DNA of speed to burn, great efficiency and butter-smooth flying characteristics and adds what Mooney owners have been dreaming about for decades, a pilot-side door, more space and far easier entry room in back, better visibility all around (but especially in back) and updated avionics, too.

The Ovation Ultra is the second Mooney to get recognition from Plane & Pilot. Two years ago we gave the nod for best new piston single to the Acclaim Ultra, which shares many of the improvements of the Ovation upgrade.

Amazingly, those improvements are all (well, mostly all) thanks to a new forward cabin shell that’s made of composite material instead of Mooney’s traditional sheet metal shell. The forward fuselage continues to use the company’s trademark welded steel cage construction for a high level of crashworthiness compared to most built-built-up all-aluminum designs. The composite shell is overlaid, and because it’s all new, it allowed Mooney to ingeniously add a second door—so no more playing Tetris to figure out what passengers go where—and to extend the length of the doors for easier entry and to allow for larger windows, too. If these sound like small improvements, you haven’t flown Mooneys much. They’re game changers.

The whole package is rounded out by the addition of the Garmin G1000 NXi avionics suite, which is a perfect complement to the Ovation Ultra in that, to the uninitiated, it looks like vintage G1000, but it’s not. The familiar appearance and very similar interface hide the fact that NXi is a game changer in its own right. The processors are way faster, the glass is sharper and brighter, the symbology is easier on the eyes, and the capabilities are much improved, with the addition of extensive vertical capabilities, VFR approaches (they’re so cool, you’ve got to try them) and improved connectivity, as well.

All this, and the Ovation Ultra is still a barn burner, with a top cruise speed nipping at 200 knots, a range of better than 1,000 nm with long range (100 gallons) tanks at the Ultra’s fast “economy” cruise of 170 knots, a climb rate of 1,300 fpm, and did I mention how pretty it is? Everywhere I went with it while testing it last fall, other pilots stopped and paid it compliments. On a couple of occasions, they even said, “Wait, it’s got two doors!”

Congratulations to Mooney International for its second big win in two years!

For more information about the Mooney Ovation Ultra, visit mooney.com.

The post 2018 Plane of the Year: The Mooney Ovation Ultra appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.