We need to take care of these aviation treasures—their kind will not be seen again. They were developed during America’s post-war boom by designers and marketers who gave pilots what they wanted at a price point within reach of a large percentage of the flying population. In their day, competition encouraged innovation, even while design compromises between performance, cost, and quality provided a variety of choices in the marketplace.

Because of these vast numbers of airplanes placed into service 50 or so years ago, we still have a relatively large pool of legacy equipment available. How long we can keep them flying is anyone’s guess, but the cost of maintaining, equipping, and flying these old birds is much higher than their original builders could ever have envisioned. And yet, they can do the job for a fraction of an equivalent airplane built today—if one even exists.

Attrition is inevitable since some of this elderly fleet disappears from the active register each year. Losses from accidents, neglect, impractical upkeep, and aging structures will eventually take their toll. To preserve what’s left, we must be ready to place increased resources into their preservation and encourage production of parts for overhauling and maintaining continuing airworthiness. And we must be ever more careful in how we operate and store them. This aging fleet is too precious to ignore.

Where Did They All Come From?

The answer is: It depends.

In 1960, a total of 7,588 general aviation aircraft were produced; in 1970, an anomalously similar number, 7,508, were built. An astounding 98,407 airplanes went out the door between those years. After another 10 years, the industry had added another 150,220 aircraft to the fleet. Then, the bubble burst in the ’80s, with only 30,908 airplanes built in that decade. The ’90s saw just 17,665 airplanes produced. The nearly 250,000 general aviation airplanes built in the ’60s and ’70s, therefore, were the origins of our still-existing legacy fleet.

During nearly 65 years of industry observation, I was fortunate to have been around at the birth of many of these legacy airplanes. I remember walking around one of the first Cessna 210s parked at our field in 1960, trying to figure out where the gear went. When a Piper dealer came by to show us a brand-new ’62 Cherokee, we could scarcely believe it was a sibling to our Tri-Pacers. And, compared to the twin Beechcraft Bonanzas on the field, I thought the ’60 Beech Queen Air was the most beautiful mini-airliner I had ever seen when I climbed aboard one of the first, not realizing that in four more years its sister ship would become the turboprop King Air.

A Cessna 336 Skymaster showed up at an airport opening I attended in 1964, attracting all sorts of attention since it was unlike any Cessna we had seen before. By then, Brand C had added the 185, 206, and 320 models, and the cabin-class 411 was coming. Piper’s new 1963 Twin Comanche struck us as cute, compared with the pudgy Apache and Aztec, while the Pawnee was our first look at a purpose-built ag plane. In the mid-’60s, new aircraft models were popping up everywhere. One of my friends bought a brand-new Citabria in 1964, which we thought was a vast improvement over the old Aeronca Champion.

As the years passed, I became associated with airplane dealerships, and then started covering a beat as an industry journalist. I saw Cessna’s abortive attempt to enter the helicopter business with the CH-1 Skyhook in the early ’60s, and later in 1967 we picked up one of the first Cessna Cardinals at the factory. In 1973, I attended Beech’s November sales meeting in Wichita, Kansas, featuring the introduction of the big Super King Air 200. About the same time, Cessna was dropping into our airport with the new Citation jet. Back in 1961, I had seen a mock-up of a civilian version of Cessna’s T-37 jet trainer, perhaps a response to Beech’s short partnership with the Morane-Saulnier Paris jet. The Citation 500’s fanjet engines made all the difference.

All through the ’70s and early ’80s, we news hounds were kept busy attending rollouts and first flights of new models. Airplane companies were in full production and eager to expand their market, trying out every novelty and adding improvements. Mooney stretched and muscled up its M20 series, Maule constantly reworked its Rocket models, Rockwell added more Commander types, and Grumman gave us “cats” of every size, Lynx to Cougar.

It All Started in the Late 1950s

In my earliest flying years at the end of the 1950s, Piper was producing only the Apache, Comanche, Tri-Pacer and Super Cub models. Cessna had the 310, 182, and 172, and was just adding the 175 and 150. Beech built the Model 18 Twin Beech, V-tail and twin Bonanzas, and a new Travel Air light twin. Mooney basically sold one model, as did Bellanca, and Aero Commander competed solely in the twin market. As the industry and I matured during the ’60s, dozens of new designs and variations appeared in the marketplace.

This era’s fertile incubator brought forth steady innovations. Piper adopted touches from the Comanche, such as the swept tailfin and stabilator pitch control, for its Aztec and Cherokee models introduced in the early ’60s. Cessna not only swept the tail on most models in 1960, it copied Detroit automotive marketing by introducing “deluxe” versions loaded with standard options—all-over paint instead of partially bare aluminum, gyros and radios in the panel, landing gear fairings, and showy interiors. Beech, on the other hand, expanded its line downward, first with a Debonair economy version of the Bonanza and later the entry-level Musketeer singles with (gasp!) fixed landing gear. The Baron was introduced in 1961 for buyers needing something smaller than the hulking twin Bonanza but more capable than the Travel Air.

The secret sauce enlivening this banquet of expansion in the ’60s and ’70s was the involvement of ownership and management dedicated to personal aviation. William T. Piper and his sons, Bill Jr., Thomas (“Tony”), and Howard (“Pug”), made the decisions at Piper Aircraft. Mrs. O.A. Beech and her nephew Frank Hedrick held the reins at Beech Aircraft. Dwane Wallace, Clyde Cessna’s nephew, would walk the factory floor at Cessna. Rather than being subject to a corporate board of bean counters and legal advisers, these leaders had grown their companies with a vision of what little airplanes could do and took risks based on the love of the game.

Amazing products resulted, not from committee decisions but because of a guiding hand at the top who was likely a pilot and aircraft enthusiast. At the industry press conferences and sales meetings back then, one could sense the devotion and dreams in the presentations. All of this changed in the last quarter of the 20th century, as the old general aviation firms were sold and wrapped under conglomerate, non-aviation management. This brought cautious decision-making and design compromise by consensus, with legal, sales, engineering, and bookkeeping departments making sure all interests were represented. Lockheed engineer Kelly Johnson once said, “From now on, there will be no more great airplanes, just adequate ones.”

The Sizzling ’70s

The 1960s had seen heady expansion of product lines. By 1970, Piper had largely made the switch from building fabric-covered airplanes at its old plant in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania, to all-metal designs streaming from a bright new complex in Florida. Labor problems and a disastrous flood in 1972 ended the Lock Haven era and the Comanche line, although the Aztec and Navajo twins continued. However, there were plenty of other options in the product line. The Piper Cherokee, also known as the PA-28 platform, had been expanded to at least eight variants, being added to six twins and the Pawnee ag planes. Cessna was building half of the world’s GA airplanes in its Kansas facilities, offering no less than a dozen singles, eight twins, and a new bizjet on the horizon. Beech, meanwhile, now had 12 single-engine models, seven twins, and three turboprops in its fleet. And the 1970s were just starting.

Vertical integration seemed to be important, in that each major manufacturer wanted to offer a two-seat trainer, four-seat family airplane, higher-powered business cruiser, and complex retract. Twins were similarly ranked—as light, medium, and cabin class—with pressurization and turbine engines being the ultimate goal. Piper took the Cherokee Six heavy-single into a Seneca twin in ’72, followed by the Lance retractable in ’76. Tapered wings and stretched fuselages improved the smaller Cherokees, and a true two-seater, the Tomahawk, came along in ’78, followed by the Seminole light twin. At the top, the Navajo cabin twin became stretched, pressurized, and turbine-ized.

Over at Cessna, a plethora of preferences had been promulgated by 1970. Tubular landing gear legs replaced older flat springs, manual flaps were changed to electric, the 210 Centurion’s wing struts had been removed, and by the mid-1960s stylish back windows had been installed in nearly all models. Engine turbochargers became an option, starting in ’62 with the 320 twin, then in ’66 for the 206 and 210. Cessna joined Piper in the ag plane business that year, and in ’69 the 206 was stretched into the 207. By the end of 1970s, there were three models of the 210—normal, turbo, and pressurized—the Skylane RG joined the fixed-gear 182, and even the Skyhawk went retractable with the Cutlass RG. On the twin side, the “push-pull” centerline-thrust Skymaster was available in three performance categories, the 310/340 was similarly outfitted, and the 400-series twins offered models with utility, executive, and pressurized cabins. It took until the late 1970s for Cessna to move into the turboprop business since it was occupied with the Citation jets earlier in that decade.

Beech was busy introducing the stretched King Air 100 in 1970 and the flagship Super King Air 200 for ’74, adding the longer Baron 58 in ’70, a pressurized Baron 58P, in ’76 and the Duchess light twin in ’78, while continuing to build piston-engine Queen Airs and Dukes. Still, Beech found time to put retractable gear on the Musketeer and add an extra cabin door to the light airplanes, and to develop the two-place Skipper trainer at the end of the decade.

By no means was all the action in the ’70s limited to the “Big Three” airplane manufacturers. Mooney was innovating like crazy in that time frame, with the introduction of the cleaned-up 201 and the turbo 231. Other short-line manufacturers like Bellanca/Champion, Maule, and Grumman American enlarged their offerings, and Rockwell jumped into its own single-engine Commander business after first trying to acquire smaller companies in the 1960s. The ’70s were full of enthusiasm for aviation, despite an oil embargo setback in 1973-74 and a disrupting air traffic controller strike in 1981. By the mid-’80s, it was all over.

Did CAR 3 Play a Role?

What may have made all these developments of new airplane types possible was the continuing use of Civil Air Regulation Part 3 certification, a holdover from the Civil Aeronautics Authority, predecessor to the Federal Aviation Administration’s creation in 1958. With the changeover to the FAA’s Federal Air Regulations, FAR Part 23 became the new certification basis for light aircraft, gradually evolving into a fresh start with some new requirements added to the old CAR 3 rules. As this regulatory meshing took some time to accomplish, established airplane companies rushed to certify as many new models as possible under CAR 3, filing applications that could grandfather them into existing rules while product development continued into the ’60s.

Using these old CAR 3 certifications as basis, most of our legacy fleet was built using amendments to the original type certificate, even though the airplanes were marketed as “new” models. Hence, the 1968-introduced Beech Bonanza 36 was certified as an addition to the CAR 3-basis TC #3A15, which was originally issued for the Bonanza H35 of 1957. Cessna’s Bonanza competitors, beginning with the model 210 certified on April 20, 1959, were also certified under CAR 3 except for the pressurized P210 because its original application was dated August 13, 1956. Even the ’64 Cessna 206 was certified as a CAR Part 3 airplane, as the original application was dated November 9, 1962, continuing right up through the end of legacy 206 production in ’86.

For its part, Piper introduced the PA-28 Cherokee in ’61 under CAR 3 certification basis from an application dated February 14, 1958. Even the PA-32 Cherokee Six was born as a CAR 3 airplane in ’65 with an application dated ’64. Similar modifications to original CAR 3 certifications took place at Mooney, Champion, Rockwell Commander, Lake, and Maule. To be fair, subsequent model changes through the ’70s frequently complied with FAR Part 23 amendments applicable to their dates of certification, even though they were built as CAR 3-certified airplanes. On the other hand, the four-seat Grumman AA-5 airplanes were certified under FAR Part 23 with an original application dated July 2, 1970.

As is typical of the mission creep inherent in any administrative law, FAR Part 23 certification grew in complexity from the boilerplate inherited from CAR 3. Much of this was inevitable as new construction methods and materials were developed, and equipment unanticipated in CAR 3 was placed on airplanes. However, grandfathering in earlier type certification, rather than pursuing entirely new FAR 23 approval, meant less time and money was required to produce a new aircraft.

Are FAA Part 23-certified airplanes any better? It depends on which level of amendments they complied with. Certification under Part 23 in the ’60s was quite similar to the CAR 3 certification of a decade earlier, but Part 23 amendments of the ’80s had evolved to a greater degree. When it comes to engineering small unpressurized general aviation aircraft, however, structures are typically overbuilt simply for durability and manufacturing ease. The basic criteria for CAR Part 3 and FAR Part 23 remain much the same. CAR 3’s stipulation that stall speed for single-engine airplanes shall not exceed
70 mph is simply restated in FAR 23 as “61 knots.” However, as mentioned, there have been multitudinous minutia added in FAR 23, often in response to newer materials and devices never contemplated in CAR 3 days. Each of these must be given consideration when developing entirely new designs, taking up engineering time and documentation.

Most significantly, this prodigious adaptation and modification of basic CAR 3 aircraft designs, along with introduction of entirely new FAR 23 ones, continued through the ’60s and ’70s. Each of the major manufacturers wanted to make sure customers were able to remain loyal as they upgraded into higher-performance airplanes. They accomplished this by increasing the number of types offered and seeing that any small opening into an unserved need was met with a new model.
And so it was that fixed-gear models received retractable landing gear. The fuselage stretched to accommodate extra seats. Four-cylinder engines became six-cylinder powerplants. Turbocharged models complemented normally aspirated offerings. Even twin engines were grafted onto single-engine airframes. Pressurization, turbine engines, tip tanks, cargo pods: if you wanted it, engineering and marketing departments made sure you could get it.

Market saturation eventually brought down the number of aircraft types, and production rates plummeted in the ’80s to match the lack of buyers. Contributing to the collapse of the ’80s was a lingering economic malaise from double-digit interest rates and inflation, and the increasing cost of product liability insurance against the growth industry of tort suits, divided by the fewer and fewer units sold.

Why can’t we just make new old ones?

Challenges on several fronts make reviving old type-certificated aircraft difficult. Small production rates mean handcrafting what was once mass-produced, so each unit costs more. Rebuilding the market requires making enough people want what you have to offer. The numbers of active pilots and qualified, motivated buyers are down compared to the bustling days, and consumer expectations are much higher now, requiring airframes to be bloated with quality accessories. Back in the day, comfort and ease of use took a back seat to the thrill of flight. We didn’t expect to have air conditioning in our airplane because it weighed half as much as a passenger and it wasn’t needed aloft. Plush seating, Wi-Fi, sound deadening, single-lever power control, and wall-to-wall glass instrument panels weren’t a priority or even dreamed about 50 years ago. We were just glad to have an engine, wings, and freedom to fly. Legacy airplanes today need considerable upgrading to bring them up to speed with current buyer desires.

Airports were social communities during the last third of the 1900s. Security was almost nonexistent, perceived threats being remote, so coming and going was less restricted and hurried. Pilots spent time at the airport. Airport lounges were often untidy but welcoming places that encouraged hanging out, not polished palaces to pass through. If you parked outside with your new 1970 Mooney, someone would come out to admire it, not shepherd it away to piston-engine row. Today’s aircraft owners are far different. Many are users of airplanes, not flyers for the sake of flying. They are more satisfied to possess their flying machines—less so to be companions with them.

That said, the great fleet of general aviation aircraft built in the two decades of the mid-’60s to mid-’80s still represents a wonderful opportunity for acquisition and preservation. We must not underestimate the continuing rise in maintenance and operation costs. But these remarkable old birds serve their purpose as well as they ever did, if we’ll just take care of them.
Let us rise to the challenge. 

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared in the July 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot. 

The post Sustaining Our Fleet appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Over his lifetime until his death in 2015, Bede produced many efficient and capable general aviation aircraft designs. However, long before the BD-4, BD-5, BD-6, and eventually the BD-10 jet project, his very first design, the Bede BD-1, must be considered his most successful. This petite little two-seat trainer and personal travel machine led to an entire line of fast, efficient, and fun production aircraft.

Fresh out of college in Kansas, Bede began his career in the late 1950s at North American Aviation as a performance engineer. While he remained at NAA for a relatively brief stint, this was a time of great innovation in military aviation design. His later use of honeycomb materials and other advanced design features likely began there.

Returning to his hometown of Cleveland in 1961, he created Bede Aviation Corp. His goal was to design and market a sporty two-seat homebuilt airplane that would outperform the Cessna 150, utilize modern design concepts, and could be towed to and from the airport. The result was the BD-1, a two-seat, low-wing monoplane that utilized revolutionary, for the time, aluminum honeycomb; bonded rather than riveted construction; and interchangeable control surfaces. The left and right wings, stabilizers, and elevators were identical. The simple landing gear incorporated a full swiveling nose gear, which 30 years later became the standard for new designs, such as those for Cirrus and Diamond.

For the wing, he chose a tubular spar that contained the fuel and incorporated a folding mechanism that allowed for highway travel. This fuel in the spar design carried through to all of the Yankees, Cheetahs, and Tigers produced by Grumman American and others. Its main structural member is a 6.5-inch cylindrical aluminum spar, which doubles as a 12-gallon fuel tank to provide a total of 24 gallons.

Certainly the most identifiable feature was the sliding canopy. Similar to the jet fighters he had worked on at NAA, the canopy simplified entry and exit, doing away with the heavy door structure and giving the pilot great visibility. Oh, yes, flying with the canopy open has always been cool. The entire kit, including the engine, was set to go on sale for just $2,500. All of this was heady stuff for the early 1960s.

The BD-1 first flew on July 11, 1963, and met or exceeded all design specifications. The prototype featured a 117-knot cruise speed, a VNE of more than 200 knots, and an initial climb rate in excess of 1,000 feet per minute. Initially designed as a kit, Bede was so pleased with the prospects for marketing his new design that he decided to go the Part 23 certification route for the BD-1.

Soon after, Bede Aviation became American Aviation Corp., the BD-1 would become the American Yankee, and a group of Cleveland businessmen came on board as investors. However, homebuilt kit design and certification of a Part 23 aircraft are two different challenges. Eventually, Bede and his new board disagreed on how to achieve these goals, and he departed the company in a foreshadowing of business issues that would follow him through his career. American Aviation, managed by the Cleveland business group, commissioned a modest redesign of the aircraft to make it easier to certify, and the AA-1 American Yankee debuted in 1968.

The Yankee became an immediate hit. With a price tag just less than $7,000, a sliding canopy, responsive controls, and a short-coupled fuselage, it was a delight to fly and outperformed the competition. It took just about six years for the first 1,000 aircraft to go out of the factory door. The AA-1 Yankee continued in production for more than 10 years in several different iterations. Its responsive controls and outstanding performance eventually inspired fighter-style paint jobs, such as Flying Tiger shark mouths, and likely even a few white scarves.

Flush with success, the American Aviation board decided a four-seat aircraft was required. Initially a clean-sheet concept, the AA-2 Patriot was designed, built, and test flown. However, it did not meet the desired performance goals and was scrapped. So efficient was the original Bede design that American Aviation decided to simply stretch it to create the space and performance required for a four-seat cross-country aircraft.

The result was the AA-5 Traveler, which proved to be an immediate success, outpacing the competition in both price and performance. The BD-1 design was flexible and seemingly timeless. Unfortunately, like so many aviation stories, this one contains several episodes of mergers and acquisitions.

American Aviation was soon purchased by military aerospace giant Grumman Aviation. Enter aerodynamic wizard Roy LoPresti. A team of Grumman engineers led by LoPresti worked their magic on the Traveler.

Using some tricks from the high-performance aircraft Grumman was famous for, they created two improved versions of the BD-1-inspired Traveler.

The 150 hp Cheetah and 180 hp Tiger earned a reputation as rapid transit machines. Even today, the Cheetah outruns 180 hp conventional fixed-gear singles, and the Tiger gives retracts a run for their money. Reduced cooling drag, optimized landing gear fairings, and other aerodynamic improvements added to Bede’s elegant BD-1 design, setting new standards for performance, value, and fun flying.

Bede went on to design a series of homebuilt kit aircraft. They were simple to construct, efficient, and often ahead of their time. His BD-5 Micro, wrapped in controversy as a piston-powered machine, went on to dazzle air show fans as the amazing BD-5J Microjet.

However, his original design, the BD-1, would shape the future of the GA industry. One look at a late model Cirrus, Tecnam, or Diamond, and their simplified landing gear, modern construction materials, aerodynamic cockpits and canopies, and attention to overall drag reduction are evident—just as they were on the original BD-1.

Eventually, Grumman Aerospace was sold to a Savannah, Georgia-based jet manufacturer in 1973 and became Gulfstream American. Most recently, West Virginia-based Tiger Aviation picked up the type certificate and produced the 180 hp Tiger until 2006.

In the end, Bede’s first design, the BD-1, fostered a line of more than 6,000 aircraft, up to and including the GA-7 Cougar Twin.

As a testament to the timeless design, so many of these spirited machines are lovingly maintained and still flown by their devoted owners. Thank you, Jim, for this incredible airplane. PP

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared in the July 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot. Subscribe to get the best in print! 

The post The Bede BD-1 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

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

What does one wear to fulfill a dream? This is the thought that fills my groggy mind when the 5 a.m. alarm goes off. Today is the day I get to fly a Grumman Albatross flying boat—a bucket-list goal that consumed me since watching the graceful behemoths fly in and out of San Diego Harbor as a kid in the late ’60s. Of the 464 originally built, only about 24 remain airworthy, and of those, maybe a dozen are in flight-ready condition at any time. This one is the elusive G-111 model, rarer than a ghost orchid, and the only one flying that we know of.

Boulder City, Nev., (BVU) is a strange place to fulfill a dream, but Albatross owner Joe Duke and his team have agreed to meet me and P&P Editor, Jessica Ambats, here along the sparse shores of Lake Mead during their trip across the United States. Based in St. Augus­­tine, Fla., they left for Oshkosh in July, and have made it all the way to Reno and Las Vegas on their Albatross odyssey. “It got us away from hurricane season in Florida,” smiles Duke.

Duke is here with Paul LeVeque, an experienced Albatross pilot, mechanic and restorer. LeVeque comes from the warbird ranks and has been instrumental in getting the Albatross flying again. Also along for the ride is LeVeque’s son, Luke, who has done most of the grunt-work on the project, including cleaning, inspecting and prepping for paint.

Resplendent in the purple light of dawn, the Albatross is a beast. She holds court over the quiet ramp like a benevolent queen. The Albatross was built for sky and water, and she looks awkward on land with her spindly gear and cartoon tires. Everything else about the amphibious aircraft screams “military,” with all her parts overbuilt to take the beating that heavy seas would impart. Even the rivets are huge. The albatross design came from the 1940s, and the type combines art-deco flair with utilitarian and maritime elements. If Jules Verne and H.G. Wells created the perfect flying boat, I imagine it would look like an Albatross.

This particular Albatross is special beyond the fact that it’s rare. It just won the prestigious Grand Champion Gold Lindy award in the Seaplane category at this year’s EAA AirVenture at Oshkosh. At the Reno air races, it won the Best Transport and People’s Choice awards. This Albatross is also one of only 13 G-111 models in the world, and was painstakingly restored at the hands of these classic aircraft aficionados in an exhausting five-year project that called for every ounce of ingenuity and patience the team had. Like the mythical phoenix, this aircraft rose from the dust devils and neglect of a withering desert boneyard to fly again.

Conceived by the Grumman Aircraft Corporation in 1944 from a U.S. Navy request for a flying boat, the Albatross (the “HU-16” or “SA-16” depending on service) was designed to be a larger version of both the workhorse Grumman “Goose” and the genteel “Mallard.” The Navy wanted an aircraft for search-and-rescue operations that could land in heaving seas, had extended range, and could carry a crew of four, 10 passengers in the cabin and 5,000 pounds of additional cargo of varying configurations. Unveiled in 1948, the Albatross was too late for World War II, but did extensive service in Korea and Vietnam, and was one of Grumman’s biggest success stories. The last one flew for the military in 1976.

All Grumman Albatross aircraft were military category aircraft, and none were ever certified by the FAA for civilian operation. However, in the early 1980s, Chalk’s Ocean Airways approached Grumman with the idea of converting several HU-16s for commercial passenger use.

Chalk’s was a famous airline that operated Grumman Mallards between South Florida and the Bahamas. By 1974, Chalk’s had been purchased by Resorts International, a gaming company owned by television magnate Merv Griffin and Donald Trump. With hefty financial resources backing them, Chalk’s asked Grumman to select 13 Albatross airframes from military surplus for conversion to “Standard” category, Part 25 operations.

The conversion would include a complete overhaul of the Albatross including rebuilt, wings with titanium wing spar caps, additional exit doors and hatches, stainless-steel oil tanks, new engine fire-extinguishing systems, prop modifications, rebuilt engines and much more, at a cost of about $1.5 million per airframe. The net result was an aircraft certified to zero time on the airframe and engine. The new configuration would carry 28 passengers in comparative luxury. These 13 received the new model designation of “G-111.”

Paul Leveque and Albatross owner Joe Duke enjoy some downtime after beaching the G-111 on a remote shore of Nevada’s Lake Mead.

Chalk’s operated a few of these airplanes for a short time, but most were put in permanent dry storage in the desert of Marana, Ariz., at Pinal Airpark, a boneyard for civilian aircraft. Thirty years later, the G-111s had succumbed to neglect and the elements, and were filled with bird nests and roadrunner droppings, had broken glass and were derelict. That’s when Joe Duke found his Albatross.

“This was basically a zero-time airplane, but was a disaster when I found it,” says Duke, using a flashlight in the early morning light to do the preflight. “But the idea of owning one had intrigued me since my days running small boats out of South Florida as a teenager. The combination of a boat and an airplane appealed to me a great deal.”

Duke is a successful businessman with a passion for classic aircraft and vintage cars. Having been in love with aviation since childhood, and after owning several small aircraft, Duke threw himself into this project with the goal of using the aircraft for the good of aviation, not just for himself. He was involved in the Haiti relief missions after the earthquake there in 2010, and they left an impression on him. A soft-spoken and thoughtful man, his classic taste is evident in the meticulous restoration of this aircraft.

Rather than opt for a garish, “island party” paint scheme like so many private Albatrosses have endured, Duke and LeVeque chose an elegant color palette that brings to mind a classic Packard or Buick automobile. Her pale green and shades of taupe paint look quintessentially American. The broad-shouldered Albatross has no interior yet, but Duke will tie in classic styling with a mid-century modern approach, honoring his aircraft’s 1954 birthdate. In fact, on this trip, we’re also joined by Bruce Shoemaker, from SDesign in Tucson, Ariz., who’s overseeing the interior design and installation.

The experience of flying a Grumman Albatross assaults all of your senses. Even sitting in its cockpit, one returns to 1948, complete with that unmistakable smell that vintage aircraft share. Duke and his team had to fabricate many of the parts on the aircraft, including the entire instrument panel and center pedestal. Wisely, they kept many of the round gauges and analog instruments. They also removed the characteristic radome that looks like a pimple on the Albatross’ nose. Inside, everything is spartan in its zinc chromate green primer glory.

This and all other HU-16 variants are powered by two lovely Curtiss-Wright R-1820 radial engines generating 1,475 hp of cacophonous growl. This is a legendary engine—the one that powered the Boeing B-17, the Douglas DC-3 and the North American T-28. Starting these engines is part voodoo magic and part science, and gives the amphib much of its charm.

In aviation, there has always been a reverence for the sound of radial engines, and listening to these brutes come to life is something that has to be experienced. The propellers turn in a slow arc as the engine patiently coughs up wads of blue smoke and then settles into a rhythmic rumble. It sounds thick and “brown,” like a stack of vintage Marshall amplifiers or warm molasses. Think Lou Rawls repeating “potato, potato, potato” in his deep baritone.

The cockpit was designed for a pilot, copilot and two crew members in jump seats. Because of its weight, the Albatross requires a type rating to fly as PIC, and it’s not certified for single-pilot operation. The cockpit is high, especially on land, and the sight picture is as far from what I’m used to as you can get. The jump seats are directly in line with the rotating propellers and inches away, which I try not to think about.

Takeoff in the Albatross is exhilarating. The throttles are where they were when you were a kid playing “airplane” under your kitchen table: on the overhead panel. You grab a fistful while holding the classic-looking, three-quarter-moon yoke. The Albatross accelerates and lumbers into the sky with grace and purpose. LeVeque climbs the Albatross out over the desert and points her toward Lake Mead, which is glistening and crisp in the morning October sun. Joe Duke monitors the myriad of engine gauges and occasionally takes the yoke.

In 2008, owner Joe Duke found the 1954 Grumman G-111 Albatross in an Arizona desert storage facility. He spent five years restoring the 30,000-pound flying boat.

Lest anybody get the crazy idea that they’d like to own an Albatross (like I did the entire time we flew), LeVeque explains that this aircraft was built to be maintained by military crews, not individuals. “The manuals are missing items like what to do when there is low compression in a cylinder,” LeVeque laughs. “It just tells you to replace the entire engine, because they had spares right there.” LeVeque and Duke have gone far and wide to source parts that no longer exist, including the special Hamilton Standard propellers that were coated in a proprietary nickel finish to avert the damage that occurs when water hits them regularly. The props are no longer manufactured, and the process to make them wasn’t documented. “So we bought all the props available that were in good condition,” LeVeque explains.

If the lack of parts doesn’t get you, the operating costs will. With fuel flows of about 50 gallons per hour per engine, along with several quarts of oil, an exorbitant reserve for overhauls on the scarce engines and props, and all the rest of the care and feeding of this airplane, per-hour costs can exceed $1,200 per hour. Still, as a wise old aviation sage once admonished, never calculate the cost of owning an airplane. That’s because it has little to do with money and a lot to do with satisfaction. I’d guess Duke feels privileged writing those checks in exchange for flying a time machine.

When it’s my turn to fly, I take the right seat like a man savoring the finest steak available. The controls are heavy but well-balanced. She’s nimble but ponderous, and her handling reminds me of a DC-3. The throttles feel good in the hand, and you have to press the rudders with conviction to get a response. Nothing happens in a hurry, and she feels solid and responsive. She’s a delight, and I’m accustomed to her feel in short time. We sashay around Lake Mead, and all too soon, it’s time to give her back.

LeVeque banks the G-111 onto short final, drops the flaps and finesses the large amphibian onto the lake with a nondescript “thunk.” There’s a loud hiss as fine droplets of water spray the aircraft in an avalanche of white water. Using the props and aerodynamic controls, LeVeque and Duke maneuver the Albatross right onto the beach in a well-choreographed side-drift. It’s the very first time this Albatross has been beached in nearly five decades. After depositing editor Jessica Ambats and me onto the shore, the Albatross is off for some photo passes.

With each pass for the camera the ground rumbled and the water sprayed in enormous sheets. I knew that Duke and LeVeque were having a great time. And if these beloved aircraft are really more than just a collection of wires, rivets and sheet metal, then this Albatross looked proud. Because in fulfilling his own dream, Duke may have unleashed the destiny this airplane longed for during those 30 years in the desert: to fly again. Dreams are funny things.

Beaching an Albatross
One of the more intriguing tasks when flying an amphibian like the G-111 Albatross is “beaching” it. Beaching is the process whereby the aircraft is brought close enough to the shore that passengers can easily exit the aircraft without having to wade in the water. The process is also used to offload cargo or take on supplies from land. What may not seem evident is that an aircraft in the water has no “brakes” and no sail. Even at idle, an aircraft on the water is always moving. The challenge is to get the aircraft to the shore and not overshoot it or collide with something in the process. “We use a variety of tools,” says Paul LeVeque. “It’s a combination of aerodynamic controls, asymmetrical thrust from the engines, and the reversible propellers.” LeVeque added that he’s always aware of the wind and the condition of the shoreline he is approaching. During our beaching experience with LeVeque in the Albatross, he overflew the spot where we’d beach the aircraft to determine whether it was safe. The process starts with determining the wind speed and direction, then visually confirming the slope of the beach. If it’s too shallow, the aircraft’s hull could ground too far out. The bottom has to be sandy and free of large rocks or other submerged obstructions. Lastly, the current has to be evaluated since currents close to shore have a strong effect on the aircraft. Wind complicates matters, and high winds squeeze every ounce of skill from the pilot. High winds require multiple crew members along with lines (ropes) attached to several points on the aircraft. However, winds under about 20 knots make beaching a simpler task. Aerodynamic controls can be used to help “sail” the aircraft toward shore, as well. For example, if the wind is on the aircraft’s nose, turning the yoke to the right (a right bank in the air) and pressing left rudder will cause the aircraft’s to “sail” left. The opposite would cause it to “sail” to the right. The effect of the engine’s speed also contributes to the “sail” effect. The thing to remember is the aircraft is constantly moving in some direction. Once all the inspections and determinations have been made and the aircraft has landed on the water, LeVeque circles back around toward the intended beaching area and positions the aircraft using engine thrust, so he approaches the beach at a shallow angle, ideally with the beach to his left. Using constant reverse and forward thrust, and positioning the rudder and ailerons so they can be used as “sails,” LeVeque approaches and then turns the Albatross, so it’s parallel to the shore. Once the aircraft’s large left float is over the intended beaching spot, LeVeque puts the right engine into idle-reverse, and the tail of the Albatross begins to swing in toward the beach. Again, using tiny amounts of engine thrust, LeVeque holds the aircraft onto the shore, and a crew member can secure the aircraft using lines, or if the wind is calm, the engines are cut, and the aircraft remains in position. In strong winds blowing onshore, the Albatross can be turned into the wind and allowed to back into the beaching spot. Engine power—both forward and reverse— is used to fine-tune the parking job. If the aircraft can’t be beached, it can be anchored off-shore using an onboard anchor and line. If the aircraft is beached, the tide must be watched carefully since an aircraft as big as the Albatross can’t be easily manhandled off shore, if the tide goes out and it becomes too shallow to float the aircraft. That becomes an embarrassing moment for the Albatross pilot.

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Grumman G-111 Albatross
Year:	1954
Engine Make/Model:	Curtis-Wright R-1820 Cyclone 9HE 9-Cylinder Radial
Power (hp):	1475 each
Propeller:	Hamilton Standard 43D51 3 blade-reversible, feathering
Max Takeoff Weight (lbs.):	30,605 on land; 31,365 on water
Empty Weight (lbs.):	23,500
Useful Load, std. (lbs.):	6,900 (varies by model/equipment)
Fuel Capacity, std. (gals.):	625 in wing tanks, 400 in floats. Total = 1025 gals.
Wingspan:	96 ft. 8 in.
Overall Length:	62 ft. 10 in.
Overall Height:	25 ft. 10 in.
Wing Area:	1035 sq. ft.
PERFORMANCE
Max Speed (KIAS, kts.):	229
Cruise Speed (KIAS, kts.):	145
Fuel Consumption, Max Cruise (gph):	110 gph
Rate of Climb, SL (fpm):	1250
Vso (kts.):	64
Takeoff Distance, Water (ft.):	2500
Landing Distance, Water (ft.):	2000
Range (Max Payload):	800 nm
Ferry Range:	1,450 nm

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Arion Lightning LS-1
Base price:	$93,900
Engine make/model:	6-cylinder Jabiru 3300
Horsepower:	120@SL
Gross weight (lbs.):	1320
Empty weight, std. (lbs.):	825
Useful load (lbs.):	495
Fuel capacity (gals.):	22 (30 optional)
Payload, full fuel (lbs.):	357
Wingspan (ft.):	30
Overall length (ft.):	20
Overall height:	6 ft. 6 in.
Wing area (sq. ft.):	103
Wing loading (lbs./sq. ft.):	12.8
Power loading (lbs./hp):	11
Baggage capacity (lbs.):	50
Seating capacity:	2
Cabin width (in.):	43
PERFORMANCE
Cruise speed, 75% power (kts)	120
Fuel consumption (gph):	4.5
Vne (kts.):	180
Vs (kts.):	44
Vso (kts.):	38
Best rate of climb (fpm):	1800
Takeoff ground roll (ft.):	275
Landing ground roll (ft.):	350
Cruise duration (hrs.):	5
Cruise range (sm):	700
Source: Arion Aircraft

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Grumman American 1978 AA5A Cheetah
Engine make/model:	Lyc. O-320-E2G
Horsepower:	150
TBO hrs.:	2000
Propeller:	Fixed
Landing gear type:	Tri/Fixed
Gross weight (lbs.):	2200
Empty weight, std. (lbs.):	1262
Useful load, std. (lbs.):	938
Fuel (gals.):	51
Wingspan:	31 ft. 6 in.
Overall length:	22 ft.
Height:	7 ft. 10 in.
Wing area (sq. ft.):	140
Seating capacity:	4
Cabin width (in.):	41
Cabin height (in.):	48
Baggage capacity (lbs.):	120
PERFORMANCE
Cruise speed (kts.):
75% power:	128
65% power:	118
Max range (w/ reserve) (nm):
75% power:	663
65% power:	707
Fuel consumption (gph):
75% power:	7.9
65% power:	6.8
Estimated endurance (65% power with 1-hr. reserve):	6 hrs. 30 mins.
Stall speed (gear, flaps down) (knots):	51
Best rate of climb (fpm):	660
Service ceiling (ft.):	12,650
Takeoff ground roll (ft.):	880
Landing ground roll (ft.):	380

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Grumman American 1976 AA5B Tiger
Engine make/model:	Lyc. O-360-A4K
Horsepower:	180
TBO hrs.:	2000
Propeller:	Const. spd.
Landing gear type:	Tri/Fixed
Gross weight (lbs.):	2400
Empty weight, std. (lbs.):	1294
Useful load, std. (lbs.):	1106
Fuel (gals.):	51
Wingspan:	31 ft. 6 in.
Overall length:	22 ft.
Height:	8 ft.
Wing area (sq. ft.):	140
Seating capacity:	4
Cabin width (in.):	40
Cabin height (in.):	45
Baggage capacity (lbs.):	120
PERFORMANCE
Cruise speed (kts.):
75% power:	139
65% power:	131
Max range (w/ reserve) (nm):
75% power:	552
65% power:	578
Fuel consumption (gph):
75% power:	10.8
65% power:	9.7
Estimated endurance (65% power with 1-hr. reserve):	4 hrs. 30 mins.
Stall speed (gear, flaps down) (knots):	53
Best rate of climb (fpm):	850
Service ceiling (ft.):	13,850
Takeoff ground roll (ft.):	865
Landing ground roll (ft.):	410

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1979 Grumman American AA5b Tiger
Base/used price:	$61,000 (1979)
Engine make/model:	Lycoming O-360-A4K
TBO (hrs.):	2000
Horsepower@altitude:	180@SL
Fuel type:	100/100LL
Propeller type:	FP/2-blade
Landing gear type:	Tri./Fixed
Max ramp weight (lbs.):	2400
Gross weight (lbs.):	2400
Landing weight (lbs.):	2400
Empty weight, std. (lbs.):	1360
Useful load, std. (lbs.):	1040
Useful fuel, std. (gals.):	51
Payload, full std. fuel (lbs.):	734
Wingspan:	31 ft. 6 in.
Overall length:	22 ft.
Height:	8 ft.
Wing area (sq. ft.):	140
Wing loading (lbs./sq.ft.):	17.1
Power loading (lbs./hp):	13.3
Seating capacity:	4
Cabin width (in.):	41
Cabin height (in.):	48
PERFORMANCE
CRUISE SPEED, 75% power (kts):	139
FUEL CONSUMPTION, 75% power (gph):	9.8*
MAX RANGE, 75% power (nm):	500
Vso (kts.):	53
Best rate of climb, SL (fpm.):	850
Service ceiling (ft.):	13,800
Takeoff ground roll (ft.):	865
Takeoff over 50 ft. obstacle (ft.):	1550
Landing ground roll (ft.):	410
Landing over 50 ft. obstacle (ft.):	1120
*Estimated
Source: Jane’s All The World’s Aircraft and Prism’s Aircraft Bluebook Price Digest

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