For a company like Boeing that has a track record of getting stuff done, in not precisely when it hopes to then at least eventually, the announcement this week of a hypersonic transport plane was, well, unusually forward looking.

The “concept” unveiling—we’ll have to remember that line—came at the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics in Atlanta, and Boeing admitted up front that this was 1) one of several hypersonic concepts it’s working on and 2) a concept that depends on Boeing’s being able to predict the state of the world and the industry even decades in the future. So you take it easy for now. Go ahead and minimize your phone apps. Expedia won’t be discounting tickets on this baby just yet.

But when it does, here’s what Boeing say passengers will get. A ride in a Mach 5 fire-breathing dragon that will take them from LA to Beijing in about 2 hours, compared to around 12 hours currently in a wide body jet. Or if you’re feeling like a Continental breakfast, instead of it taking about seven hours to go from the Statue of Liberty to the Eiffel Tower, the future Boeing, which we presume will be called the 737-Hyper, will get you there in 60 New York minutes. (Or Paris minutes. They’re the same.) As a reference, LAX to SFO could be cut down to six minutes. Theoretically. Because that’s what this, though it is also a lot of fun to think about.

Boeing isn’t saying how the new plane will be powered, so we’re guessing ScramJet. As far as the structure, carbon nanotubes, and for the likelihood part, we’re saying it’ll be a fun project to watch, or not.

Bear in mind that despite our having fun with the idea, Boeing is already working in earnest on just such projects, and hyperspeed aircraft exist. The term “hyperspeed,” by the way, refers to speeds of Mach 5 or greater, though the fastest piloted plane so far is the North American X-15 rocket plane, which pegged the speedometer at Mach 4.5. The fastest manned, air-breathing plane is the Lockheed SR-71, at Mach 2.8. An unmanned, scramjet (it’s really a thing) powered plane has flown at nearly Mach 10.

Boeing admits the new jet concept, which looks as cool as it would be fast, won’t be in commercial service for 20 or 30 years still, but we promise to keep you updated in the interim.

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Shortly after I purchased my first airplane in 1968 (a Globe Swift), I shared an executive hangar with a Ryan PT-22 and a Big Yellow Stearman, the latter owned by a retired Pan Am captain. Yes, it was one of those Stearmans, a totally restored prize winner, a perfect example of time standing still. It was as perfect as unlimited money and several thousand hours of TLC could make it. Doug was fanatical about his airplane and also given to a certain amount of whimsy.
I rode with him several times, but they were always rides, not flights, as he’d conveniently removed the front stick, so no one else could actually fly his airplane. As it happened, his Stearman’s registration was N22747, and Doug, characteristically irreverent, took every advantage of the N-number.

He flew the airplane regularly, and said he delighted in contacting approach control at Long Beach, called simply SoCal in those days, and announcing, “SoCal, this is Boeing 747 at the east tip with Oscar. We’d like the ILS to Long Beach.”

Doug chuckled that the controllers were always amazed when they assigned him a discrete squawk and identified his airplane on radar, flying the approach at 70 knots. The next call from ATC was usually something like, “Say again type aircraft.”

These days, I have another friend with an equally pristine Boeing Stearman, Mike Hanson of Westminister, Calif. Hanson doesn’t fly many ILSs in his Stearman, real or practice, but he and his vintage Boeing model 75 are a common sight in the skies over Southern California. His airplane is a fully restored Navy N2S3 trainer, a 1943 model, one of the 10,346 built by Boeing as primary flight-training machines during World War II, and used all over the world as a military trainer. Since the airplane never saw combat, there was little to demilitarize after the war, and thousands of Stearmans were sold as surplus.

Hanson is a roofing contractor by trade, and as he admits, he came by his classic airplane in perhaps the best/worst way possible. He inherited it. “I had a good friend in the early 1990s who owned this airplane and a Bonanza,” Hanson explains. “He dearly loved his Stearman. When he died a few years later, he willed it to me, and suddenly, I became caretaker of a treasured piece of aviation history.”

Since then, Hanson and his wife, Kendle, have established their own freelance barnstorming business (www.biplanefun.com) out of Compton, hopping rides above the spectacular Palos Verdes coastline. The Hansons have logged some 2,000 hours in their classic Boeing in the last 13 years.

Unlike some antique flying machines that seem to sit in their hangars, the Stearman isn’t a shop queen. Hanson reports maintenance hasn’t been that difficult, partially because of the number of airplanes still on the registry.

Lloyd Stearman created the first Stearman in the early ’30s and subsequently sold his company to Boeing. The then-Wichita-based company later won the contract to provide basic trainers to the Navy and Army Air Force, and the Stearman (sometimes branded by students as the “Yellow Peril”) was the airplane of choice. The model 75 had spruce wings, tube-steel fuselage and fabric covering, and was considered dramatically overbuilt for its mission, so well constructed that back in the mid ’30s, each airplane cost just over $11,000 to produce (in contrast to a Beech Staggerwing B17L that sold for $8,000). Translated to today’s dollars, you could probably buy a decent used Lear 23 for equivalent money.

Stearmans were fitted with a bewildering variety of radial engines, everything from Continentals and Jacobs to Lycomings and Wrights, ranging in hp from 220 to 420. Mike Hanson’s Stearman Kaydet features the original seven-cylinder Continental, rated for 220 hp.

After the war, the airplanes were pressed into civilian service and modified as necessary with such improvements as wheel pants, a cowling and speed fairings. These were employed as barnstormers, air show/wing walkers, mail planes and a hundred other jobs, some retrofitted with the huge Pratt & Whitney R-985 engine, boosting power to 450 hp. Hundreds of Stearmans were converted to crop dusters by simply mounting an aerial applicant tank up front and spray booms beneath the wings.

Hanson’s airplane, like many of the early Stearmans, was equipped with a wood prop that provided limited performance. Hanson flew with the wood blades out front for the first thousand hours. “I call those the ‘good-for-nothing’ props, in between good climb and good cruise,” says Hanson. He later retrofitted his airplane with the ground-adjustable all-metal McCauley prop, and picked up 10 knots cruise. (A Hamilton-Standard also is available.)

That’s not to suggest cruise was a Stearman strong point, whatever the prop. With the drag of two open cockpits and accompanying wind shields, guy wires, struts, landing gear and two fat wings hanging in the wind, the Stearman has all the aerodynamic sophistication of a boxing glove. It’s surprising that the stock Stearman managed the speed it did, about 90 knots. With 43-gallon tanks topped and a burn of 13 gph, the Kaydet has 2.5 hours endurance plus reserve at max cruise, enough for 230 nm range.

The airplane has a baggage compartment behind the aft pit, approved for up to 60 pounds. Typical useful load was about 750 pounds. Hanson’s payload works out to a generous 492 pounds, two big folks and all the luggage you can stuff inside the baggage area.

With two wing walks, you can climb aboard from either side, but tradition suggests you treat the airplane like a thoroughbred—mount from the left. Step up on the wing, throw a leg over the sidewall, step down onto the seat and ease your rear end into the chute/cushion.

Taxiing with that big radial engine straight ahead requires the usual S-turns to clear the taxiway. Fortunately, that’s an easy process (at least, it was on Hanson’s airplane) with the steerable tailwheel and good toe brakes. Pivot the Stearman back and forth, and alternate looking out the left side as you pivot right and vice versa to see what you’re about to hit.

Hanson and I launched from Compton with smoke on and another Stearman in loose formation. The tail flies up quickly, and the procedure is to balance the airplane on the mains.

We headed out to the practice area in the Catalina Channel off Long Beach. Flying at what was probably near-gross weight, the Stearman managed about 500 fpm at a cruise climb of 75 knots.

As Hanson had advised me, “On paper, there are far better airplanes, but I think you’ll find there’s just something about a Stearman.” He was right. The Kaydet flies lighter than it looks. I had anticipated heavy controls and plenty of adverse yaw, but rudder requirements didn’t seem excessive. Normal turns left and right were gentle and not especially exciting, but that’s exactly what you want in a military trainer.

If you’re riding front pit as I was, there are brace wires and struts ahead that correspond with 35 and 60 degrees of bank, respectively. Wrap the horizon over to 60 degrees or more, however, and you’ll find you need far more nose-up pitch than you imagine to hold altitude. I did what I thought was a nice, steep 360 with the nose barely above the horizon—and promptly lost 200 feet. No VSI. Oops.

Stalls are a non-event, with no tendency to roll over the top and spin in either direction unless you insist on it. I didn’t. Departure stalls offer no surprises. In fact, the Stearman is nothing if not predictable.

No matter how enthusiastically you fly the airplane, rest assured it will take more than you will. During my flight with Hanson, I flew some gentleman’s aerobatics, several roll/loop/hammerhead combinations with a max four G pull, and the airplane soared right through them without complaint. It’s also approved for snap rolls, spins and all combinations in between, Cuban eights, loops with a snap on top and most other inside tricks. My acro certainly wasn’t all that proficient, but the Stearman did its best to make me look good. That’s exactly the idea.

The Stearman’s roll rate isn’t especially impressive with ailerons on the bottom wing only, probably about 50 degrees/second. Another set of ailerons on the top wing is a common mod that would boost the roll rate for air show application.

Landings were always a challenge in Stearmans, especially for flight cadets struggling to master the big biplane before moving on to the AT-6/SNJ. The Kaydet sits tall on its stout main gear, and the three-point attitude is so steep, standard technique is to wheel it on in a reasonably level stance; then, lower the third wheel to the ground once you’re sure the runway ahead will remain clear. Hanson has over 2,100 hours in his N2S3, and prefers wheel landings over three point touchdowns.

With no flaps to lower the nose and slow the approach, Hanson likes to cross the fence at 70 knots and plans a flat touchdown at about 55 knots. “The Stearman is a dream to fly, but for most people, it’s a nightmare to land. Far better Stearman pilots than I have groundlooped the airplane, so I try to always be VERY careful on landings,” says Hanson.

The Stearman is certified to withstand +12/-9 Gs. As a frame of reference, consider that’s well above the limits for the current F-16 fighter. Such strength made the Kaydets tough trainers during World War II, willing to endure the worst that pilots could inflict.

The story goes that two military instructors at a World War II training base in East Texas decided to test the Stearman’s strength. They were deadly bored with the job of educating cadets to the ways of the sky in Boeing Kaydets. Their assignment was especially frustrating, because they knew many of the young men they were training would soon be flying fighters against the Germans, exactly the duty they longed for.

The two instructors were assigned to do a return-to-service check flight on a recently repaired Stearman, and hatched a plan to have a little fun. They climbed to 10,000 feet just off the Gulf Coast, completed their basic flight tests and determined the airplane was basically sound.

They trimmed the Stearman for straight and level flight at full throttle, then rolled inverted and pulled through to a vertical dive. When the airspeed was maxed out, prop tips screaming beyond Mach 1.0, the front pilot nodded his head (no intercom in those days) and both instructors simultaneously pulled back on their respective joysticks as hard as they could.

When they came to, the Stearman was placidly chugging along straight and level, totally undamaged.

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The post 1977 Bellanca 8KCAB-180 Super Decathlon appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

But Bellancas aren’t Italian airplanes. Although they’re the brainchildren of an Italian-born designer, they’re all-American products, designed and built in the U.S.

Still, most design parameters of the last product in the Bellanca line, the Viking 300, fit the Italian mold. Power is plentiful, handling is better than virtually anything else in the class and the interior is snug enough that you wear the airplane.

Most of all, there is that indefinable Italian characteristic—the handling, the feel. The first Viking 300s were offered in 1967, and there were some 1,700 units produced over the next 30 years. In fact, Bellanca continued in limited production right up through 2001, delivering a handful of handmade airplanes in the last few years, often as few as two a year. Under the direction of a group of seven investors, including long-time chief engineer Andy Vanno, the Alexandria, Minn., plant currently is producing parts and performing major wood overhaul work. Bellanca hopes to go back into limited production of the IO-550-powered Viking—which was introduced in 1996—within the next year or two.

Construction by hand has always been a key ingredient of the Bellancas that few other manufacturers could match. By definition, a wood-and-fabric airplane is constructed by hand. The Sitka spruce and mahogany plywood wings are lovingly assembled from 1,800 individual, pre-formed pieces, some as small as a matchbook.

In fact, the wing has always been Bellanca’s primary claim to fame. A classic airfoil shape, the Viking’s smooth, seamless, 34-foot, Bellanca B wing is probably the closest thing in aviation to a work of art. Ask aircraft designers who truly understand light aircraft construction and performance, and they’ll tell you that, in many respects, Sitka spruce is a better material for building small- to medium-sized airframes than metal or composite materials.

Wood has no memory, as does aluminum, so it’s highly resistant to dings. It’s also more resilient, willing to flex thousands of times without stressing or breaking, and it doesn’t delaminate under high temperature or repeated G-loads. Wood is lighter than metal (only about 250 pounds for a finished Viking wing) and offers an easily shaped, rivetless, aerodynamic surface that’s ideally adapted to a small aircraft wing.

In almost 35 years of production, the wing has never changed. Back in those heady days of the late ’70s and early ’80s, when Bellanca was turning out one Viking a week, I toured the Minnesota factory several times, and I was always impressed with how quiet it was at Bellanca. Working in wood, glue and fabric isn’t a noisy job.

Like many of us who have owned Bellancas of one type or another, Breiman is convinced his Viking is a different kind of four-seat retractable. A motion-picture executive based in Los Angeles, Eric Breiman had always wanted to fly, but like so many other busy professionals whose problem is finding more time than money, his schedule made flight training unlikely. He had been brought up with airplanes, as his father had been a B-29 flight mechanic during WWII, and Eric had inherited the bug.

Finally, in early 2000, he dove in headfirst at Justice Aviation in Santa Monica, Calif., training for his private ticket in a series of Cherokees. Breiman earned his license in only three months and immediately went looking for an airplane to buy. “I had a friend with a Viking for sale,” says Breiman, “and he took me for a demo ride. He had been the only owner of the airplane since it was new, he was an A&P and he knew everything there was to know about his Viking. When I flew with him, I knew I had to have that airplane. The Cherokees were fun, little machines, but the Viking was a big step-up in performance and handling, a Corvette compared to a Corvair.

“The Viking had been very well kept when I bought it,” continues Breiman. “Still, it’s a fabric airplane, and the cover was original—27 years old at the time. I elected to have a complete fabric and paint job done on it, about a $20,000 expense. The good news is that the covering is now fully restored and painted in my colors, and I won’t have to do anything to the fabric for as long as I own the airplane.”

Like most of us who own or have owned Bellancas for years, Breiman didn’t buy his airplane exclusively for looks. He bought it for the way it flies. Vikings and their predecessors have long been famous for control response and harmony that seems almost psychic in nature. Yes, Vikings do have plenty of other talents. They’re quick airplanes with abbreviated climb, they scamper across country at speeds near the magic 174 knots (200 mph) and enjoy good short-field numbers, but their primary claim to fame is their excellent roll rate, fast elevator response and a seeming ability to read their pilots’ thoughts.

As mentioned earlier, performance is competitive with virtually anything in the class. As you can see from the factory comparison chart, Breiman’s aircraft is a 1973 Viking 300A, so we compared it to the only similar horsepower, four-seat retractable available at the time, the Bonanza. For contrast, we also included the slightly later Rockwell Commander 114 and Cessna Skylane RG, admittedly much lower-powered models. We also added the Mooney Ovation and the current Cirrus SR-22 to contrast the old and new.

If many of the performance numbers appear to favor the Viking, accommodations aren’t so generous. One reality about all the Bellancas is that you definitely put on the airplane rather than merely climb into it. The horizontal dimension across the front seats is only 41 inches at the elbows, the narrowest of the lot, so even two medium-sized pilots will rub shoulders. The rear seat is even narrower, relegating the airplane to more of a 2+2, rather than a full, four-place machine.

The cockpit and panel layout are dated, but relatively conventional, although elevator trim is notably unconventional. It’s mounted on the roof and rotates in a horizontal plain to move a vertical trim tab. Clockwise is up. One redeeming factor is that the majority of Vikings employ electric trim, so most of the time, pilots only have to watch the knob rotate.

The fun starts in a Viking the instant you push the throttle full forward for takeoff. Acceleration is among the best in the class (power loading is only 11.1 pounds/hp). The airplane is ready to fly in less than 1,000 feet at about 70 knots and transitions into an effortless 1,200-fpm climb, with hardly a pause to catch its breath.

Vikings retract their main wheels straightforward into the thickest part of the wood wing, and double clamshell doors close over the tires to help smooth the underwing. Looking at the airplane head-on in flight, the fairings hang down a good six inches below the bottom wing surface, but cruise performance doesn’t seem adversely affected by the interruption. One benefit of the retraction system is that emergency gear extension is actually facilitated by the relative wind that helps push the wheels down and locked the second the pilot selects gear down and cracks open the clamshell doors.

Back in the days when Vikings came in your choice of normally-aspirated Continental or turbocharged Lycoming, it was possible to loft a Bellanca to 25,000 feet, but Breiman’s standard Viking and the vast majority of others do their best work at 7,500 to 8,500 feet. The producer’s airplane is primarily a recreational vehicle, employed more for weekend outings than business trips, so he rarely has occasion to cross the Sierra Nevada or the Rockies.

“I’m not usually in a hurry, so I come back to 60% to 65%, to extend range and reduce fuel flow. I’ll typically see 165 knots or more at that setting,” comments Breiman. “If I do need to hustle, I can push the power up a little and manage 170 knots or more, but the burn goes up almost 2 gph for the privilege.” With 75 gallons in two wing tanks and one fuselage container, Breiman’s Viking has about four hours endurance plus reserve at high cruise, five hours at lower settings.

Brieman says his Viking’s best feature is simply its outstanding handling. “I love the way the airplane carves its way through a turn—you need only think about a heading or pitch change, and the Bellanca does it,” effuses Breiman.

Despite the joys of ownership, the producer acknowledges a few niggles. “It’s not the least expensive single to fly and maintain,” he explains. “Although the spruce wing is tough and durable, the fabric does have limited life and can represent a major expense if you need to replace it. That means you almost have to store a Viking in a hangar rather than outside, if you want the fabric to last—another fixed expense. That overhead elevator trim is a little unusual and takes some getting used to, although I’ve come to like it. The airplane’s cabin is loud in flight, but fortunately, the best ANR headsets and an inflatable door seal help solve that problem.”

The Bellanca Viking also is one of the most individual of singles that are flying in the sky today. For Eric Breiman and pilots who are like him, who prefer style with their substance, there is nothing quite like a Bellanca Viking 300A.

SPECS: 1973 Bellanca Viking 300A N373EB

The post Bellanca Viking: Wood, Fabric & Genius appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

1973 Bellanca Viking 300A N373EB
Used price:	$59,000
Engine make/model:	Continental IO-520K
Horsepower@rpm@altitude:	300@2700@SL
Horsepower for takeoff:	300
TBO hrs.:	2000
Fuel type:	100/100LL
Propeller type/diameter:	Hartzell CS
Landing gear type:	Tri/Retr.
Max ramp weight (lbs.):	3325
Gross weight (lbs.):	3325
Landing weight (lbs.):	3325
Empty weight, std. (lbs.):	2185
Useful load, std. (lbs.):	1140
Payload, full std. fuel (lbs.):	690
Usable fuel, std. (gals.):	75
Oil capacity (qts.):	12
Wingspan:	34 ft. 2 in.
Overall length:	25 ft. 4 in.
Height:	7 ft. 4 in.
Wing area (sq. ft.):	161.6
Wing loading (lbs./sq. ft.):	20.6
Power loading (lbs./hp.):	11.1
Wheel base:	6 ft. 8 in.
Wheel track:	9 ft.
Wheel size (in.):	6.00 x 6
Seating capacity:	4
Cabin doors:	1
Cabin width (in.):	41
Cabin height (in.):	45
Baggage capacity (lbs.):	186
PERFORMANCE
Cruise speed (kts.):
75% power:	174
65% power:	165*
55% power:	152*
Max range (w/ reserve) (nm)**:
75% power:	696
65% power:	742
55% power:	836
Fuel consumption (calculated @.425 lbs./hp/hr. sfc)(gph):
75% power:	15.9
65% power:	13.8
55% power:	11.7
Estimated endurance (65%) (hrs):	5
Vs (kts.):	66
Vso (kts.):	61
Best rate of climb (SL fpm):	1210
Best rate of climb, 8,000 ft. (fpm):	850*
Service ceiling (ft.):	20,000
Takeoff ground roll (ft.):	980
Takeoff over 50-ft. obstacle (ft.):	1200
Landing ground roll (ft.):	835
Landing over 50-ft. obstacle (ft.):	1500
* estimated
** calculated
Sources: Aircraft Bluebook Price Digest, Jane’s All The World’s Aircraft, manufacturer’s specifications and model-specific flight manuals

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