Videos that came to light shortly after the crash showed the flight was in trouble. One of them, taken by a resident who lived nearby, shows the plane slowing considerably and then going out of control. The other was a Facebook livestream taken from inside the plane’s cabin by a passenger who perished moments later. 

Investigators quickly recovered the flight recorders, and to everyone’s surprise, they showed that the plane’s two propellers had been brought to zero power output, in a condition known as “feathering,” which is used in flight only after an engine has failed. Featherning it keeps the non-working engine’s propeller from created excessive drag. When both propellers are feathered, neither engine will produce any power, and for a plane like the accident ATR 72, that can be catastrophic. But why did it happen? 

There’s a new theory, and it makes a lot of sense to investigators. 

The flight had originated in Kathmandu and was headed to Pokhara, a 30-minute flight. Pokhara is the gateway to the Himalayas and a popular trekking jumping-off point. The weather looked a little hazy but otherwise excellent, and from the video taken by the Pokhara resident, the wind didn’t appear to be a factor.

That ground-perspective video below, which stops just as the ATR is dropping a wing and before it spirals out of control, shows the regional airliner clearly flying very slowly before disappearing behind a structure. At that point, its bank angle was greater than 90 degrees, meaning it was on its way to being inverted.

Horrifying last moments of an ATR plane crash from Nepal in Pokhara that was bound for Kathmandu. All 72 people on board are dead. pic.twitter.com/4JZIvnThPQ

— Wajahat Kazmi (@KazmiWajahat) January 15, 2023

The video from the cabin, likewise, shows the plane at an unusually high angle of attack as it is flown slowly for some reason. After watching the videos, a former NTSB official remarked that the plane’s wing flaps didn’t appear to be fully extended on the airliner and that the engines, or at least one of them, appeared to be functioning. Twin-engine commercial planes like the ATR 72 are fully capable of all phases of flight even with one engine not producing power.

If the flaps had not been fully extended, that would have raised the minimum speed at which the plane would still be controllable. It appears from the video that the plane did indeed go out of control, seemingly from being flown too slowly. Airline pilots are trained to be rigorous in their attention to the plane’s configuration (such as flap settings) and its airspeed. The cabin video goes all the way into the crash, and the passengers, all of whom would die in the crash, seemed unaware until the very last seconds that they were in trouble.

The latest theory takes all of that into account. It proposes that one of the pilots, when the other called for the deployment of 30 degrees of flaps, but the flight recorder shows that instead of deploying 30 degrees of flaps (they remained unchanged) the pilot accidentally pulled back on the condition levers, which are located directly next to the flaps. There’s no safety mechanism in place to prevent an accidentally grab, as the theory suggests, to turn disastrous. 

Pulling both propellers back to a feathered condition would explain the plane’s slowing before going out of control and crashing. The question that remains is, if it was accidental, and there’s no evidence that authorities have shared to suggest it was intentional, could the mistake have been fixed, that is, why didn’t one of the pilots have simply advanced them again to regain power? And if that was attempted, how long would it have taken for those engines to spool back up to producing a usable amount of power, all while airspeed was decaying as they attempted in vain to hold the plane’s altitude. In this case, the pilots might not have realized the mistake that had been made, and by the time they figured it out, if they ever did, the plane had descended below 500 feet AGL, was on the verge of an aerodynamic stall, so it’s unlikely that the flight could have been saved. 

WARNING: DISTURBING CONTENT

The plane crashed in a steep ravine near the new Pokhara Airport, which opened just a few weeks ago. It is not clear how flying into a new and therefore somewhat unfamiliar airport might have affected the flight, though investigators will surely be looking into that factor.

All 72 bodies have been recovered, as were the flight recorders, which might provide answers. In most cases, the cockpit voice recorder holds few clues, but this case feels very different than most.

On a particularly tragic note, shortly after officials released the names of the crewmembers who died in the crash, it became known that the pilot killed in the crash, Anju Khatiwada, was the widow of the captain who died in the crash of a Yeti Airlines flight in 2006. The pilot who was killed on Sunday became a pilot only after her husband died in the crash of a Twin Otter (an even smaller twin-engine plane) more than 15 years ago.

There are conflicting reports about the seat that Khatiwada was occupying on Sunday’s flight, though some outlets have reported that she was flying with a check pilot before earning qualification to fly as captain of the ATR 72. If that were the case, the qualification process might hold clues as to why the plane went out of control, though standard procedures would call for the flight to be flown by the book regardless of the nature of the crew. Khatiwada earned her ratings in the United States and had more than 6,000 hours of flight experience, reportedly being qualified already as captain on other aircraft in the Yeti Airlines fleet.

Following Tara Disaster, Nepal Wants to Change the Way it Clears Flights

The post Prime Theory Emerges in Nepal ATR Crash appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

We’re still awaiting final word on the numbers at HSF for this year, but then again, today is event organizer and starting flag-man extraordinaire Kevin Quinn’s birthday, so he can be forgiven for taking an extra day to get them out.

In the short time it has been in existence, the fly-in has gotten to be one of the can’t-miss events of the flying year, we’d argue second only to Oshkosh and maybe Sun ‘n Fun. And because it’s so different from anything anyone had ever done before, and because the setting is so remote, there’s little chance that its legend will do anything but grow.

So, keep your eyes peeled for those numbers, which we expect based on participant reports, to be one of the biggest Dead Cow gatherings ever, and while you’re at it, check out some great photos of the event from Tony Cruz and Paul Ruschman.

Orange Haze Afternoon Departures

Airplane Camping Playa Style

The Paramotor Golden Hour

Early Morning Watch on a Perfect High Desert Day

Happy Hour at Dead Cow Tap Room

Racers Lined Up and Ready to Roll

The post High Sierra Celebrates Another Great Event appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Despite these built-in challenges, designers in decades past succeeded in creating a handful of excellent family planes; that is, ones that are roomy enough for everyone in the modestly sized clan, are fast enough to get somewhere and have good enough range to cover a lot of ground between fuel stops.

Here’s our list of some great used planes for pilots looking to fly the fam.

Grumman Tiger

This is one plane you probably didn’t expect to see here, but it is a great family plane—so long as the kids are still little, that is. It’s easy to fly, has fantastic visibility, has room for bags (so long as the packing planners are prudent), and is both fast enough, around 135 knots, in my experience, and comfortable enough to make a good cross-country platform. This type was, in fact, the first family plane I ever flew, and I flew it a lot. For our typical missions, which were to take two grownups up front and two little kids in back, on trips of 500 to 750 nm for vacation or a quick trip to see relatives, the Tiger was ideal. The visibility is to die for, the fuel economy with a Lycoming O-360 is just fine, and the interior is plenty roomy. Plus, the Tiger is a relatively affordable buy in today’s high-priced used plane marketplace. Alternatives: Cessna 172RG; Diamond DA40.

Piper Cherokee Six/Lance/Saratoga

Piper’s six-seater, introduced in the 1960s, looked pretty much like what it was, a stretched-out version of one of Piper’s wildly popular, four-seat PA-28s. And then some. The “then some” part is critical here because Piper designed the plane right. Instead of merely giving it a stretched fuselage and a couple more seats, Piper’s designers gave the PA-32 a big double door in back, which made loading passengers and gear that much easier. They also added the club seating option, so the second and third row of seats faced each other instead of all facing forward, which is ideal for hauling stuff around, even without removing the rear row of seats, or for an adult in one of the rear-facing seats to keep an eye on the young’uns. The PA-32 was a popular plane and one that came in a variety of flavors over the years. There was the original 260-hp, all-forward-facing-seats version; the 300-hp model with and without club seating; a retractable gear model; and a T-tail version, too. The retractable gear models are fast, around 160 knots, compared with closer to 145 for the 300-hp fixed-gear Cherokee Six, and as is the case with many Piper models, the production run of the PA-32 spanned the era of the fat, squared-off wing (the Hershey bar wing) and the later, tapered airfoil. Regardless, all of them are excellent family flyers, which, again, I know from experience, as we flew PA-32s for years (including one that we owned with a couple of partners) and traveled far and wide with it as the kids got bigger. Alternatives: Beechcraft A36 Bonanza; Cessna 206.

Cessna 182 Skylane

So much has been written about the Skylane, and for good reason. It is one of the most popular planes in the history of aviation, both in terms of numbers built and capability. There’s very little the Cessna 182 can’t do, and one of the things it excels at is hauling a good load, doing it with decent speed and excellent flying manners. While Cessna introduced the stretched, six-seat 206 Stationair for those who needed even more room and hauling ability, for many families (ours included), the Skylane was plenty of airplane. It’s not the fastest plane out there—I used to flight plan for 135 knots and be pleasantly surprised if it was closer to 140—and so long as the load was balanced, it handled like a charm even when loaded to right around max takeoff weight. Earlier Skylanes were outfitted with the six-cylinder Continental O-235, and later ones are powered by six-cylinder Lycoming IO-540; they’re both great engines. If you can make do with four seats instead of six, the Skylane is a tough plane to beat for economical family flying. Alternatives: Piper PA-28-235 Dakota/Pathfinder; Beech V35 Bonanza; Maule MX-7.

Beechcraft A36 Bonanza

For many years, Beechcraft singles were the epitome of high-end personal flying, and with the introduction in the mid-1960s of the six-seat A36 model, Beechcraft (today owned by Textron Aviation) created what might be the perfect piston-powered family transportation plane. The A36 Bonanza simply checks all the boxes. Like the Cherokee Six, it features a sizable side door for rear-seating passengers to get into and back out of the plane. Club seating is standard; it’s roomy for the first four seats and passably roomy for the back two, and it’s both fast (around 170 knots) and long-legged, with a max range with the larger fuel tanks topping 800 nm. And the Bonanza just exudes a sense of high style while putting in the work. The A36 was never a cheap option for those looking for six-seat family cruisers; it just might have been the best one. Alternatives: Piper Saratoga, Piper Malibu.

Cirrus SR22

Even though not many pilots think of the Cirrus SR22 as a family plane, a lot of Cirrus pilots do, and their missions back up the belief. This is well known to the company, which markets its planes through its “Cirrus Life” brand initiative. The idea is that when you buy a Cirrus, you’re not just buying a plane but also a lifestyle. The program clearly resonates. The SR22, after all, has been the best-selling plane in the world for many years in a row now, and part of that is that it gets flown a lot. Just listen on center or approach frequencies for the small planes flying about; a lot of them are Cirrus SR22s. The plane is fast, remarkably roomy and sophisticated to beat the band. It also, and this should not be underestimated, features a whole-airplane recovery parachute system, a feature that clearly gives other family members enhanced confidence in the experience. SR22s are not, however, cheap. With brand-new ones going for around a cool million, they are a premium product, but they make good on that purchase price by delivering a premium experience. Alternatives: Cessna TTx; Mooney Ovation.

TBM

While we’re talking high-end singles here, we’d be remiss to not mention the TBM series of pressurized, single-engine turboprop planes. These are extremely expensive planes, both to buy and to operate. But the rewards are breathtaking. The configuration of the TBM series is very much like an upsized version of the Bonanza A36 or Piper Cherokee Six, with two seats in front and four seats in back in a club-seating configuration. But apart from the basic layout, the TBM is a whole other animal. It is a much more complex aircraft to fly, with systems that don’t exist on any of the other planes in this roundup. Those include (but are not limited to) pressurization and a turboprop engine, and the cost of upkeep and fuel is much greater than the priciest piston single. But the rewards again. A cruise speed, depending on the model, of between 285 and 335 knots, the ability to tool along at the flight levels in pressurized comfort, luxurious interiors and, in later models, sophisticated electronics. If you can handle writing those checks, what’s not to love? Alternatives: Piper Meridian; Piper M600.

Valuable flying lesson learned: Pilot Experiences Engine Failure on Family Vacation

Going Direct:  The Future of The Light GA and The Four-Seat Family Plane

Our Top 25 Planes Of All Time: Is yours on the list?

The post The Best Family Planes appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Continue scrolling to see the full list of planes. 

Concorde

The fastest civil airliner, the Mach 2.5 Concorde was a marvel of modern engineering when teams from France and Great Britain began developing it in the 1960s, when it was widely thought that supersonic airliners would be the norm soon. That future never happened, and with the brief exception of the Soviet Tupolev SST, Concorde remained the sole supersonic civil airliner from its first passenger flight, in January of 1976, to its swan song in 2003. Its first appearance at Oshkosh in 1985 was a chance for hundreds of thousands of grassroots aviators to see the world’s fastest airliner up close while cementing EAA’s annual convention as a big-time event with broad appeal and a reach that spanned the globe. 

Rutan VariEze

The genesis story of the Experimental Aircraft Association is just what the name says, and for the first couple of decades of its life, those aircraft were largely conventional tube-and-fabric-covered wood and/or steel tube construction, planes that required minimum tools and builder skills. But the 1960s (and on into the ’70s) were an era of tremendous technological advancement that fed the public’s fascination with all things innovative. In aviation, younger builders were drawn to new shapes and materials, believing that greatly improved performance, economy and ease of building were possible with new designs. While he was far from the first to experiment with futuristic designs, Burt Rutan tapped into the zeitgeist of the times with his VariEze. The single-pusher-engine canard-configured two-seater was fast, with a max cruise speed of close to 170 knots, and it was efficient, too, with a max range of better than 600 nm at fast cruise. Builders flocked to the VariEze, and for years during the late ’70s and early ’80s, the VariEze, along with the follow-on design, the LongEze, were the most populous experimental aircraft at Oshkosh, highlighting not only the next generation of builders’ commitment to EAA but also their recognition of Oshkosh as the place to show off your completed projects. 

F-22 Raptor

It’s hard to explain the impact of the appearance of the Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor at AirVenture more than a decade ago. It is one of the few planes to fly into OSH that was so eagerly awaited that everyone on the field stopped mid-stride or mid-conversation to stare up and gawk at the world’s first fifth-generation fighter, as it did things that no fixed-wing airplane should be able to do, including small-radius turns at speeds so slow a Super Cub would be hard pressed to match, bookended by high-speed passes that thrilled the masses. 

Going Direct: Boeing 737s Versus Lockheed Martin F-22s

Corben Baby Ace

At first glance, you might not know about this plane, and you might be surprised at its inclusion in this lineup of the fast and mighty planes of OSH, but believe me when I say that the Baby Ace is no less to EAA than the Wright Flyer means to aviation as a whole. The plane, which was featured in a 1955 series of articles in Mechanix Illustrated, helped propel EAA from a boutique organization to one with a national and global footprint. The message associated with EAA Founder Paul Poberezny and the article by his wife and partner, Audrey, was unmistakable: You can build your own plane for pennies on the dollar, and we’re here to help! The mission of EAA has only built upon that framework in the intervening 65-plus years. 

Van’s RV

One of the most important planes to EAA’s ongoing commitment to amateur-built aircraft is the Van’s RV. There are numerous models, some with side-by-side seating, some with two seats, one with four, some with a nose gear, some with a tailwheel. And when I mentioned, in the snippet above, that the Rutan Vari-Eze arrived en masse in Oshkosh, its numbers were in the hundreds. According to Van’s, more than 10,000 RV kits have been completed. And a lot of them make their way to OSH every year for the fly-in. The RV kit plane is the epitome of modern homebuilding. Oregon-based Van’s Aircraft supplies a kit that is straightforward to build, with an increasingly sophisticated construction that makes building the plane easier and more intuitive than ever, a modern take on the classic EAA mission. 

Plane Facts: Van’s RVs

Harrier

The loudest plane ever at OSH? This one is a no-brainer. It’s the BAE Harrier jump jet, a fighter jet that could take off and land vertically while also speeding along at a supersonic clip. It’s fair (though perhaps not nice) to say that the Harrier got more attention from more showgoers for a longer period of time than any other plane, but that’s only because when it does its V-TOL thing, it’s too loud to talk to anyone else. The Harrier also represents EAA’s ongoing commitment to bringing the best available military hardware to the show, no matter the obstacles. 

Vertical Flight in Six Historic Steps

Spirit of St. Louis

To celebrate the 50th anniversary of the event that I believe was the most significant in aviation history, the crossing of the Atlantic Ocean by Charles Lindbergh in 1927, EAA constructed a replica of the plane Lucky Lindy flew across the pond in, the Spirit of St. Louis. That 1977 replica was popular and flew a lot. While it was the spitting image of the original, which hangs in the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., EAA’s version was a little more user-friendly to fly. And fly it did! So much that EAA eventually retired it and placed it in a place of honor in its Oshkosh EAA Aviation Museum. The requests for it continued apace, however, so in the early ’90s, EAA constructed a second replica, which is flying to this day. EAA was founded in 1953, 50 years after the Wrights’ first flight and about 25 years after Lindy’s hop, but its mission has long been to celebrate the history of flight, 50 years before its formation and before. The organization’s commitment to that history is on prominent display every time the Spirit flies. 

Opener BlackFly

Again, we could have picked any number of cutting-edge designs for this spot in our lineup of important planes at AirVenture because the point is, EAA’s annual summer showcase is all about embracing and celebrating innovation in aviation. That mission alone is worth standing on the rooftops and celebrating. And the BlackFly is about as innovative as it gets. A vertical takeoff and landing multicopter with a shocking shape, the BlackFly is a fly-by-wire ultralight—a phrase I never thought I’d write—one that carefully curates the flying experience while still letting the pilot be at the center of the fun. As with other planes that have made a splash at OSH, the BlackFly might not stand the test of time, but the innovations it showcases will. 

Quicksilver Ultralight

Those pilots who aren’t old enough to remember the early days of ultralights might not know about one of the most remarkable chapters in aviation history—the ultralight revolution. Everyone knows the Cessna 172 Skyhawk is the most-produced plane in history; high on the list is the Quicksilver Ultralight, with more than 15,000 made over the past 40-plus years. Like the Skyhawk, it is still being produced. The ultralight craze was similar to but of a different origin than the fast-glass craze of the 1980s. While the Rutan canards played off of would-be plane builders’ fascination with technology, ultralights attracted the DIY crowd. These were dirt-simple planes, most of them constructed with lightweight aluminum tubing and covered with sailcloth. These aircraft became so popular, in fact, that the FAA created a rule just for them, Part 103, that limited the size and speed of an ultralight (among other things) but otherwise completely deregulated them. EAA was in on the ground floor with these new planes, and even today, the ultralight strip at Oshkosh remains one of the busiest places at Wittman Regional for the weeklong run of AirVenture. 

Plane & Pilot Snap Quiz: Ultralights!

North American T-6 Texan

The name of the host of the world’s greatest airshow has the word “Experimental” right in it, but it’s so much more than a homebuilt organization or a homebuilt show. EAA for decades has been all about private aviation of all kinds, from ultralights to World War II-era bombers. Warbirds are a core interest of EAA, both in terms of its airshow—what would it be without the sounds of big radials or sizzling V-12s?—and its owner/ builder/flyer support efforts. While we could have picked a few different airplanes, from the T-34 Beech Mentor to the Boeing B-29 Superfortress, to be the poster wings for this note, the T-6 holds a special place in private warbird lore, and to say it is well represented at Oshkosh is a huge understatement. Both on the flight line and in the airshow, the North American World War II-era trainer, of which more than 15,000 were produced, made it for a couple of decades after the war, a remarkably affordable warbird and one to which owner/pilots became deeply attached. As is the case for the relationship between the Oshkosh Fly-In and the T-6. 

Airbus A380

Big is cool, and through the years, Oshkosh has hosted some of the biggest planes in the world: the C-5 Galaxy, Boeing 747, the Antonov An-124 and the Airbus Super Guppy, to name a few. But the biggest of the big, at least according to many metrics, is the Airbus A380, and its arrival at OSH in 2009 showed just how proud Airbus was of its giant achievement and how highly it regarded EAA’s annual gathering. The plane also created buzz because its landing that year was so very dicey that pilots were talking about it for weeks after. In the final tally, it was one of the landings where the airplane was still flyable afterward. 

What Is The Biggest Plane In The World?

Your Plane

Oshkosh is at heart a fly-in, and even though the world’s biggest and greatest airshow attracts nonpilots from around the world, every year there are around 10,000 airplanes (counting them is so complicated that EAA doesn’t even try to get an exact count anymore) that fly into the area for the festivities. For those of us who have flown into Wittman Regional for the weeklong airplane adore-a-thon, the most important plane on the field that year is none other than ours. 

Gallery: The Best of AirVenture Oshkosh 2022

The post The All-Time Most Significant Planes At the EAA Oshkosh Fly-In appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

1. Physics

The rules of the natural world are unbending, and when people try to bend nature to their desires, it’s the people and not the rules that get bent. Physics dictate that to lift something, you need to exert a certain amount of force. The heavier the object being lifted, the more force you need. When it comes to what one might charitably call an “emerging” segment (the term implies that it’s actually going to arrive at some point) of small multicopter and tiltrotor craft, weight is the enemy in more ways than one. For the plane to be both mildly crashworthy and to have a reasonable level of endurance, let’s say 45 minutes of flying time, the craft would need to have fairly powerful motors with plenty of juice. Small ultralights with HUGE wings can fly reasonably well with 40 horses of power. For a mostly vehicle thing with no wings or tiny ones, that figure would need to be much greater, likely at least 100 horses. If it’s not powered by an internal combustion engine, then that craft would need a lot of batteries, which are far, far heavier per unit of energy than a gas piston engine is. For hybrids, add up all the engines and motors and batteries and the weight penalty is staggering, which is a good word to describe how one of these things might fly, staggering into the sky.

2. Legality

For starters, for everyone to have a flying motorcycle in their garage, the mythical beast would have to be legal to fly. As far as the FAA is concerned, that means one of two things. The easiest and cheapest route for the manufacturer is to build what the FAA refers to as an ultralight vehicle—the FAA doesn’t even use the term “aircraft” for them. Ultralights are largely unregulated. But there’s a huge caveat. The max weight of a powered ultralight is 254 pounds. See section one, “Physics,” to see the odds of hitting that weight. A Honda CB300, for reference, weighs around 350 pounds without wings or rotors and with just a tiny starting battery. Hitting 254 isn’t impossible; at least one craft, the Jetson ONE, has done it. But because of the weight limitations, it can only fly for around 20 minutes before it becomes an anchor. The good part about the ultralight regs? One need not have any kind of license to fly an ultralight.

3. Who wants to hover, anyway?

The allure of flying an airplane is that, to state the obvious, it goes into the air. Hovering? Not so much. The point of hovering eludes us. If you want to go very fast on or near the surface, get a motorcycle. They’re cheap, legal and easy enough to ride. While hovering craft have long had an exotic appeal, in reality, almost no one wants to hover, nor should they. Very sensibly, they either want to drive or fly. Low-altitude forward motion in the cushion of the air is expensive and inefficient. Its main benefit is that crashing is less catastrophic. More on that in Part 6, Safety.

4. Legality, part deux

The other pathway for manufacturers to pursue, if they want to blow right past the 254-pound weight limit, is to get the craft approved by the FAA under one of a couple different regulatory frameworks, Part 23 or Light Sport Aircraft. The process for Part 23 certification is intensive and extremely expensive, costing tens if not hundreds of millions of dollars and many years to complete. Light Sport Aircraft is less heavily regulated. Manufacturers adhere to a set of industry consensus standards in building and designing the craft, and it’s not an easy lift, just more doable than Part 23 approval. To operate a Light Sport Aircraft, a pilot needs to have just a valid driver’s license, so pilot medical certification is not a huge hurdle, though pilots do need to go through extensive flight training and testing in order to get that Light Sport Pilot certificate.

5. Whose air is it?

Another pesky regulation has to do with airspace. To put it in context, the FAA’s airspace restrictions are so complex that few active pilots understand them from top to bottom. They typically know the regs just well enough in most cases to avoid getting intercepted by fighter jets. An ultralight can only fly in unregulated airspace. And even though they are free to fly in what is known as Class G airspace, they still have to abide by the rules that mandate they stay at least 500 feet away from any person, vessel or structure. So a flying commute is, at least by today’s rules, a nonstarter. In addition, what rules would apply to flying motorcyles? Road rules or flying rules? Or some hybrid of them?

6. Safety

How safe would a hoverbike be? Because of weight limitations, flying motorcycles would have little safety structure (though the safety cage of the 20-minute Jetson One is impressive). Hovering is probably about as safe as riding a motorcycle, which is to say, not very. And flying a fully certificated plane piloted by a fully certificated pilot is about as safe or unsafe as riding a motorcycle . Ultralight safety is largely unknown because of the unregulated nature of the activity, but it is likely many times less safe than flying a regulated small plane. And an important thing to remember is that once you get up to 100 feet off the ground or so, crashes are often catastrophic and fatal.

So, what are the odds that flying motorcycles will be filling the skies soon? Because of all these factors and more, there’s close to zero chance for that kind of future. And that is not a bad thing. Not every fantasy has to be or should be acted upon.

Jetson One Selling like Swedish Hotcakes

The post Hoverbike Dreams versus Hoverbike Reality appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Continue scrolling below to learn about all of the products. 

Robotow Cordless Towbar

When its friction drum is held against the nosewheel, the Robotow allows one person to move singles and twins such as the Aztec, Baron and Cessna 421. Its motor has a reverse-direction switch, and a trigger on the pistol-grip handle controls speed. Weighing less than 30 pounds, it measures 48 x12 inches. An axle adapter, sold separately, is required. It’s available for a variety of aircraft without wheel pants, including the Cessna 150, 172 and 175; the Piper Cherokee, Comanche and Apache; the Beech Bonanza Baron, Travelair and Debonair; and the Bellanca, Navion and Riley, to name only a few. It will not work with the Seneca, Arrow, Aerostar and Lance, among others. 

Price: $1,599. Available at www.sportys.com.

GoCheck Preflight Multi-Tool

The GoCheck Preflight Multi-Tool combines six preflight tools. These include a slide-off fuel tester with strainer and belt clip, a stall horn tester and a dipstick wiper that works with both round and flat dipsticks with LEDs for use at night. Additionally, there’s a red/white flashlight, Phillips/flathead screwdrivers illuminated by LEDs and checklist reminder card. It measures 6 inches long and comes with four AAAA batteries. 

Price: $49.95. Available at www.mypilotstore.com.

Sporty‘s Electronic E6B Flight Computer

The E6B is used for flight planning and accurate FAA test calculations. It’s capable of computing navigational, weight and balance or fuel problems, and it also performs standard arithmetic calculations. It has backlighting, a large keypad and a quick reference card in a storage case. Some of its aviation functions cover density altitude, required rate of climb, fuel required and plan true airspeed, among others. Conversions include Celsius<>Fahrenheit, Jet A Gallons<>Pounds and Nautical Miles<>Statute Miles. It also has a clock that reflects local, home and Zulu time zones, along with a count-up/countdown timer. 

Price: $79.95. Available at www.sportys.com. 

Flying Tigers Long-Sleeved Athletic Shirt

Sporty’s Wright Bros. features the Flying Tigers, the First American Volunteer Group. It was a fighter group that operated from 1941-1942 and piloted P-40 aircraft to oppose the Japanese invasion of China. The athletic shirt has a shark teeth design on the left sleeve and the Flying Tigers font down the right, with the leaping winged tiger from the back to the front left-hand shoulder. In addition, there’s the Republic of China roundel on the lower back and a red lady logo above the right chest. It’s made of a cotton/Lycra mix. 

Price: $14.99. Available at www.sportys.com.

The Baggage Organizer

Supplies can be organized and secured in the back of the aircraft with the Baggage Organizer’s compartments. It’s able to accommodate emergency aircraft supplies that can include nose and main tire tubes, spare alternator belts, a first aid kit, approximately four quarts of oil, spark plugs, a toolkit, a spare battery to jumpstart the plane, and jumper adapter and wheel chocks.

Price: $290. Available at www.aircraftspruce.com.

The Leatherman Wave

Measuring 4 inches when closed with a 2.9-inch blade and weighing 8.5 ounces, the Wave is still able to house 17 tools in one. It includes point and serrated knives, needle nose and regular pliers, wire and hard-wire cutters, a wire stripper, a saw, scissors, a wood/metal file, a diamond-coated file, large and small bit drivers, a ruler and a bottle/can opener. It also comes with Phillips and flat-tip eyeglasses screwdriver bits and Phillips #1-2 and 3/16-inch bits.

Price: $109.95. Available at www.aircraftspruce.com.

Ram iPad Mini 6 Perfect Fit Cradle

This cradle holds an iPad Mini 6 without a case. Its roller design facilitates placement and removal of the iPad, and it has an attachment point on the side for an Apple Pencil. The Perfect Fit comes with a 1-inch mounting ball preinstalled and is compatible with other Ram mounting products. It also comes with a lifetime warranty.

Price: $24.95. Available at www.sportys.com.

The post A Towbar, a Preflight Multi-Tool, and More Gear for Pilots appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

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?

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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.

As you probably know, the annual High Sierra Fly-In got its start as a small gathering (small as in five guys) of like-minded backcountry flyers getting together to meet at Dead Cow Dry Lake, hang out around the campfire and, during the day, go flying to cool backcountry destinations within easy reach of Dead Cow. 

High Sierra is no longer that cozy gathering. Though, in a way, it is. It’s just scattered widely about the lakebed and multiplied by nearly a thousand. 

Though few people talk about it this way, High Sierra is just like Oshkosh, just scaled down. A lot. And at the same time, it’s nothing like Oshkosh. In fact, in many ways, it’s the opposite of EAA’s big summer shindig. Not that EAA and High Sierra are mutually exclusive. A lot of folks who show up at Dead Cow make an appearance at Wittman Regional, too, and the homegrown STOL/Drag race that was born through HSF is now a popular fixture at AirVenture. 

But whereas EAA is a year-round organization with a large permanent staff and headquarters and programs and advocacy, High Sierra is none of that. I think that’s a big part of its greatness. It isn’t about fitting yourself in, as you need to do with an event that each year attracts hundreds of thousands to its airshows and rock concerts. And more. 

Oshkosh is all about the more part, and that’s what makes it great. HSF is all about the less part. And that is what makes it great. 

That formerly small gathering of friends has turned into a big event. This year, there were an estimated 1,000 aircraft (mostly fixed-wing backcountry taildraggers) and 3,000 people in attendance. There are services, though they all go away at the conclusion of the fly-in. But while it’s happening, you can get coffee, fuel and firewood and even a burrito. 

The other thing about the event is that it centers around three main activities: the STOL/Drag contest, just flying around with friends and family, and just hanging out. In that way, the High Sierra Fly-In is special. It’s grown bigger, yes, but it hasn’t grown past its roots. In fact, one might argue that if it did, it would simply no longer be that fly-in of like-minded aviators who gather in celebration of being off the grid for a few days—a few dusty, chilly and glorious days.  

Scroll through the slideshow below to see more photos from the 2021 High Sierra Fly-In

The post The Tenth High Sierra Fly-In Lights That Candle appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Evolutionary biologist and lifelong New York Yankees fan Stephen J. Gould came up with the idea of punctuated equilibrium, that is, that evolutionary changes in organisms don’t happen in a steady, predictable way but, rather, in peaks and valleys. As change becomes more rapid, the process becomes an incubator for even more change, like a wildfire creating its own weather.

And that’s what happened with flying, too. As new technologies were developed, those technologies helped spawn others. In just a small example, the advent of instrument flying, for instance, helped give rise to the development of advanced instrumentation, a variety of sensors, ground navigation systems, onboard radar, in-cockpit weather and more.

But as great as the jumpstart that invention gives to further invention is, nothing drives technological progress as much as world events. And aviation has been changed fundamentally over the past hundred-plus years by events whose impact on culture were both unforeseeable and terribly, obviously waiting to happen.

THE MASS MOBILITY MOVEMENT

The move to mechanically propelled forms of transportation, including everything from steamboats and trains to electric trolleys, part of the Industrial Revolution, was a major driver in the development of the first aircraft. But nothing came close to the impact that the development of personal transportation vehicles, namely the automobile and the motorcycle, had.

One reason was scale. Both cars and planes, at least as far as they imagined the latter’s future, were seen as transportation for no more than a few people, to be powered by a single-engine, with a drive train spinning the motive mechanism, wheels vs. propellers, respectively. Many of the problems that automobile engineers were attempting to solve, including the development of suitably lightweight engines for their vehicles, were exactly the same things that plane makers were concerned with. They came up with numerous good ideas, from the opposed engine to the arrangement of the instruments and controls to the enclosing of the seating area. These were usually adopted and adapted for aircraft use in some modified form.

And the widespread use of cars meant that gasoline became widely and readily available, mak- ing the choice of powerplants an easy call. The other critical development of the automobile was infrastructure. As cars and trucks got highways and bridges, so, too, did aircraft get airports, runways and service providers. When the paving of roads became commonplace, the paving of runways to accommodate faster and larger planes was easy to do.

Finally, the development of manufacturing processes to build large numbers of cars would soon allow the mass manufacture of large numbers of airplanes in what would come next.

THE FIRST TECHNOLOGY WAR

What came next was, of course, a global conflict, one in which modern mechanized technology played a larger role—the crossbow notwithstanding—than in any previous war in determining not only who won or lost but also how many causalities were inflicted. Despite all the energy that both sides put into their development, aircraft wound up being an almost negligible factor in the outcome of the First World War, dwarfed in importance by advances in firearms, artillery and chemical weapons.

But what the great aerial experiment did was drive a refinement of aircraft that might have taken decades without the pressure bearing down on developers. Over the course of several years, planes went from gracile, awkward and slow to much faster, stronger, well-armed and highly maneuverable. The war also allowed nations to understand better how aircraft needed to continue to advance if these new instruments of war were to become major factors in large-scale conflicts. For better or for worse, within 20 years, they had gotten it right, and aircraft would become not only a factor but a deciding factor in who won the next war.

Developed at the tail end of World War II, the Boeing B-29 combined pressurization, ultra-long-range design and great payload-carrying ability to change the tide of the war in the Pacific.

THE FIGHT AGAINST FASCISM

It’s tempting to credit, or blame, the meteoric rise of aviation progress in the ’30s and ’40s to World War II, but the truth is that even before the war began in earnest, world powers were already upping their game in advance of their moves to either attack or protect territory that might soon be in dispute. The major players were, in approximate order of appearance (approximate because it’s complicated): Japan, Germany, Britain, the Soviet Union and the United States (with Italy and others acting as wild cards along the way).

Based on lessons learned from World War I, the architects of power in each of those nations knew that in order to win in future wars, air power was a necessary ingredient. To achieve that, they correctly surmised that they’d have to produce huge numbers of pilots to fly huge numbers of aircraft that would be orders of magnitude more capable than their predecessors from the last war. They’d also need to better define and delineate between aircraft types, i.e., fighters, bombers, attack planes, liaisons, dive bombers and more, taking into account the special needs of each type. Their missions, in many cases, drove design approaches that were incompatible with other missions. Bombers couldn’t have massive payloads and also be nimble, as fighters had to be.

Training strategies and equipment were also more specialized and effective. Germany was prohibited by the Treaty of Versailles ending World War I from assembling a new air force. So, it trained thousands of pilots in sailplanes, which were not banned because, after all, what was the harm? But by 1933, Germany had secretly created the Luftwaffe, in violation of the Treaty of Versailles, and by the time Germany launched its Blitzkrieg attack in Poland and France just over six years later, it had the largest and most capable air force in the world.

Japan, too, had been amassing its air forces as part of its imperialist move against China, so by the time the island nation launched its attack against the United States, it had the best aircraft carriers in the world, a development that allowed it to take the battle far and wide.

The United States, for its part, was building its air force and other military powers years before it entered World War II officially.

The subject of how the lead-up to World War II and the eventual war itself drove aviation innovation could be the subject of volumes. But in brief, the conflict drove the development of powerplant technology—by the end of the war, the jet engine was widely understood to be the future of propulsion—and airframe development, with far larger, faster and more maneuverable aircraft, and flying tactics and training. The years between 1930 and 1945 changed the world of aviation forever for all of us.

SPACE

Even before we got there, the very idea of getting to space captivated researchers in the most technologically advanced nations, most notably Germany, whose scientists beat everyone to nearly practical rocket planes—the Messerschmitt Me 163 was an operational rocket plane during the latter years of World War II—and who were just slightly too late, luckily, in their development of operational jet fighters that would likely have air superiority over Europe had they been more numerous earlier in the conflict.

While space was kind of a dead-end for aviation in terms of crossover propulsion technology, the advances in materials, aerodynamics, craft control and communications that modern space programs developed created direct benefit to aviation.

Manufacturing advances also drove improvements in aviation technology, chiefly in the refinement of metallurgy and the honing of very fine-tolerance machining tools that were put to use in ever-more-efficient, lightweight and powerful turbine engines, which have defined atmospheric aviation in the last 70 years.

We shouldn’t forget that space and the satellites we’ve put there have given us previously unimaginably powerful tools for navigation (GPS and other satellite systems), weather detection and avoidance, and communications.

FREEDOM, GEOGRAPHY AND DEMOGRAPHICS

While progress in aviation technology was driven by the necessities of competing in a modern global arena, and it was, then putting that technology into action and into use was made possible by big changes in demographics around the world. This was very notable in the United States, which during the war years became the world leader in all things aerospace. It has maintained that position ever since, albeit with some impressive competition from around the globe—European megalith Airbus is arguably the predominant aerospace manufacturer in the world.

But the United States’ embrace of general aviation has been far greater than anywhere else in the world, thanks to a confluence of factors. First, there was the sheer number of citizens returning from war in the 1940s, the fact that they were returning to a country that had not been directly devastated by the conflict, and that they were captivated by the aviation technology they had witnessed at war, often firsthand. The subsequent rise of the American middle class was a direct outcome of the war experience, and soon, American factories began churning out high-quality, relatively low-cost, entry-level aircraft manufactured using the same materials and design concepts as some of the warplanes American factories were no longer turning out at high rates.

These factors combined with two others to help create the remarkable story that is American private aviation. These uniquely American factors are the wide-open and largely privately owned continent that was still being settled by the end of the war, a culture of individualism and an almost religious belief in progress. All these came together to make aviation the perfect complement to the American Experience. This was true for practical reasons—airplanes offer an unprecedented degree of personal mobility even to an average person—and philosophically, as its core tenets of freedom of movement and personal autonomy were as American as one could imagine.

The result was that from the 30-plus-year span from the mid-1950s to the early 1980s, American aircraft manufacturers turned out hundreds of thousands of low-cost personal aircraft for millions of American pilots and aircraft owners.

THE AGE OF COMPACT AND CHEAP COMPUTERS

If you were a pilot in the mid-to-late 1980s, it was impossible to own a personal computer, or even to be merely aware of the technology, and not wonder how these devices might someday affect aviation, as it had already gained a foothold in space flight.

The rise of computer tech into private aircraft was, predictably, at first into commercial and business jets because early digital products—everything from solid-state navigation gear, like inertial guidance nav systems, to CRT displays and autoflight computers—were big, heavy and breathtakingly expensive. So, these products were a better fit in every way for bigger, more expensive aircraft. In fact, it seemed unlikely to many industry observers that such gear would ever find its way into light aircraft.

But as market-savvy economists predicted it would, computer technology became smaller, more powerful, less expensive and more adaptable to different uses. By the 1980s, computerized navigators, like BendixKing’s KLN-series Loran and GPS navigators, offered unprecedented capabilities to small-plane pilots, including never-before-seen levels of situational awareness. Before long, moving-map technology, first portable and soon panel-mount, came to light planes. These included products from companies such as II Morrow, Arnav and Lowrance. And in the early 2000s, light planes started getting flat-panel primary flight displays, with Avidyne breaking ground with its Enterra suite in the Cirrus SR-series aircraft and shortly thereafter with Garmin’s groundbreaking G1000 glass panel suite, which debuted in Cessna single-engine planes but soon made its way as standard equipment into many dozens of aircraft models.

New digital solutions are constantly coming to the fore, with the FAA even adopting ADS-B, a new nationwide digital radar replacement that offers tremendously accurate aircraft position information, as well as free aviation weather, to anyone with an ADS-B In system installed. On top of that, a whole new breed of computer programs, called apps, made their way into aircraft cockpits around the world, allowing pilots amazingly capable and innovative navigation, flight management, data, weather and planning utilities that live and travel aboard inexpensive, compact and widely commercially available tablet computers.

THE FUTURE

What’s next? We can’t even begin to guess at what marvels the next decade might bring.

An increased share of the ramp for electric propulsion aircraft is a near certainty at this point, though how much of that market they take over could range from a tiny portion to all of it, depending on how far battery and charging technology progresses. Autonomous power management is already coming, and multi-copter craft, most of which will be autonomously controlled, are a likely part of our shared future. And if that sounds like less fun than tooling around in the kinds of planes most of us fly today, we have to agree.

Light Single-Engine Planes They Totally Need to Bring Back!

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