An icon of general aviation, the legendary Beechcraft Bonanza was introduced in 1947 – the very same year this particular example was manufactured. Sporting a gleaming polished aluminum and bright red exterior that will turn heads everywhere it goes and the early Bonanza’s trademark V-tail, the classic aesthetics are unmistakable and legendary.

• READ MORE: Garmin Introduces Budget-Conscious Nav/Com Radios for Light Planes

While priced toward the upper end of the expected price range for early Bonanzas, this one justifies the premium with a long list of upgrades, inspections, overhauls, and STCs that demonstrate the current owner’s meticulous attention to detail regarding maintenance and care. From a new exhaust system to an overhauled landing gear motor and gearbox to a fully disassembled and inspected engine, virtually every component of this Bonanza has been gone through and refreshed, setting the new owner up for years of worry-free flying.

Inside, the new owner is welcomed by classic, art-deco style in the form of polished aluminum “piano key” switches and a throwover yoke that creates ample space for the front passenger. The current owner wisely modernized the panel with round gauges and instruments that maintain the original aesthetic. The GPS, radios, and transponder are positioned up high on the panel, making them easy to read and reach.

Photos reveal an engine compartment clean and sorted enough to win awards at virtually any airshow or fly-in, with the seller accurately describing it as “Oshkosh ready.” For any buyer interested in avoiding the restoration and sorting process entirely and skipping right to the part where they enjoy a museum-quality machine, this Bonanza provides a one-way ticket to vintage fun.

• READ MORE: Bargain Buys on AircraftForSale: 2000 Micco SP-20

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance and quickly calculate your monthly payment using the airplane finance calculator. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com

The post Bargain Buys on AircraftForSale: 1947 Beechcraft 35 Bonanza appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Often overlooked among the nearly identical Bonanza line from which it is derived, some 1,300 examples of the Beechcraft Debonair were built from 1959 to 1967 as a more affordable alternative. Despite being presented as the budget alternative, however, it offered similar capabilities and shared many of the same parts. Today, many have been further modified with niceties that close the gap even further.

• READ MORE: BEECHCRAFT MODEL 33 “BONANZA”/ “DEBONAIR”

Based in the southwestern U.S. for the past 35 years, this particular Debonair has 5,340 hours on the airframe and only 280 hours since major overhaul on the upgraded Continental IO-470K. Other notable upgrades include an alternator STC, more easily serviceable Cleveland brakes, and a dual yoke that enables you to share flying duties with a companion.

A unique and attractive paint scheme is nicely accented by a refreshed interior that was reupholstered with new fabric in 2005. The panel is nicely organized and easily upgradable, with a neat radio stack and intelligently arranged flight instruments. A uAvionix Skybeacon satisfies ADS-B out requirements, opening up airspace options for your cross-country flying. 

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

The post Bargain Buys on AircraftForSale: 1960 Beechcraft 35-A33 Debonair appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

First flown in 1975, just two years after the nearly identical-looking Piper Tomahawk, the Skipper was sold between 1979 and 1981, with some unsold examples selling as 1982 models. Like the Tomahawk, the concept was born from an evaluation of what people wanted out of a two-place plane with about 100 horsepower. The overwhelming answer was something less cramped and more comfortable than a 150, so Beechcraft designed the Skipper, outfitting it with a slightly more powerful Lycoming O-235.

For a shopper who values solid mechanicals over fresh paint and the latest avionics, this particular Skipper is just what the doctor ordered. The centerpiece of the airplane is the engine. Freshly overhauled in 2023, it has flown regularly since then and now has 250 hours since major overhaul. 

• READ MORE: BEECHCRAFT BE-77 SKIPPER

While the exterior is far from new, it looks decent with only a few blemishes here and there. Inside, the interior plastics appear to be largely intact with no obvious signs of abuse. This is possibly a result of the relatively low 2,370 hours on the airframe. As an added bonus, the airplane is presented as having no damage history.

What the panel lacks in modernization is makes up for in tidiness, retaining the orderly factory layout and providing plenty of space for easy avionics upgrades. A uAvionix skyBeacon brings the Skipper into ADS-B compliance, and a small throttle quadrant with levers rather than push-pull knobs makes the little airplane feel larger than it is.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

The post Bargain Buys on AircraftForSale: 1979 Beechcraft 77 Skipper appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

His arrival wasn’t pretty. The Bonanza pilot didn’t follow the published traffic pattern, placing the aircraft close to rising terrain on downwind. He was too fast on final approach, and he went around on the first attempt. A police officer arrived to check on the airplane, as the pilot had reported to ATC that he was low on fuel. Still, he was safely on the ground.

That was when the second guy approached and chatted about the chances of getting home. He recalls how the Bonanza pilot and his wife were both wearing red, matching their V-tail S-35. The first pilot’s advice was to stay in Andrews overnight. Heeding the warning, unhappy with the weather, the second pilot drove away.

The Bonanza pilot didn’t stay the night. He purchased 60 gallons of fuel and got a weather briefing. He later departed, crashing before making it out of the valley. The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) final report details departure planning issues—and one cockpit switch in the wrong position.

READ MORE: After the Accident: A Deadly Ditching

The accident pilot had 2,100 hours logged in more than a decade of flying. Almost all that time had been in a four-seat, fixed-propellor, fixed-gear Piper PA-28 Cherokee. He held a single-engine private pilot certificate with an instrument rating. In June 2021, he had purchased the 1965 Beechcraft S35 Bonanza, which required complex and high-performance training. An instructor flew with him for about 15 hours, reporting the new owner wanted to do everything “by the book” and was a very competent pilot. By the time he landed in Andrews, he had about 50 hours in the S35.

Bonanzas are six-seat, single-engine, retractable-gear planes—solid cross-country machines. First produced in 1947, they’ve been in continuous production longer than any other aircraft in history. The NTSB found no preexisting mechanical issues with the plane. The pilot’s executive assistant told the NTSB: “He did not allow anyone else to borrow or use his airplane. He was very meticulous about his airplane.”

The IFR trip had started in Liberty, Texas, with the goal of reaching Lancaster, Pennsylvania. A stop was planned at the Macon County Airport (1A5) in Franklin, North Carolina, but deteriorating weather led to the diversion into KRHP, east of a stationary front.

Low-altitude temperatures were in the mid-60s, close to the dew point. Cloudy skies with light rain predominated. At 6:49 p.m., the pilot called Leidos Flight Service for a standard IFR briefing to immediately leave KRHP for Lancaster Airport (KLNS). The briefer led with, “All right. Looks like convective SIGMET area for thunderstorms that’s coming up on you from the south as we speak. Looks like the sooner you can get out of there the better.”

Radar was showing heavy rain moving in, and there were other convective SIGMETs. “But looks like you can stay between those two, especially if you can get out before this next group that’s down toward the border moves in on you.” The briefer continued: “The adverse weather is mountain tops obscured in the higher terrain pretty much for your entire route of flight. … This is not going to be a VFR day today because I’m showing VFR, IFR, marginal VFR, and even a couple of low IFR spots within [a] 25-mile radius of your entire route.”

The pilot told Leidos: “I’m looking outside now. We should be able to get out of here. We can leave in five or six minutes. … Probably looks like we can get out of here VFR. Let’s go ahead and file an IFR flight plan. I’ll pick it up in the air.” Asked for a routing, the pilot said he’d have to look at his iPad, but he had left it somewhere. He requested direct KLNS, 466 nm away.

READ MORE: After The Accident: Two Cessna 210 Thunderstorm Accidents

An hour later, at 7:45 p.m., he departed VFR from Runway 8 at Andrews. The airport AWOS was reporting calm winds, visibility 7 miles, moderate rain, scattered clouds at 1,400 feet, overcast at 3,200 feet. That’s legally VFR. But the steep hills around the airport would have been hidden—and night was falling.

The sun had set at 7:16 p.m. Civil twilight time officially ended at 7:41 p.m.. Terrain a few miles to the north of the field rose over 3,000 feet above the field elevation. After takeoff, he turned 45 degrees left to a heading approximately that for direct to KLNS. Groundspeed was 95 to 100 knots, climb rate around 700 fpm.

At 7:49 p.m., 5 miles from the airport, the Bonanza collided with tall pines close to the ridgeline, coming to a stop inverted at 3,650 msl. The pilot and his wife both died in the crash. The NTSB found the probable cause to be “the pilot’s decision to fly toward rapidly rising, obscured mountainous terrain after departing [VFR] at night.”

Andrews has a published IFR departure procedure: “Remain within 3 nm of Western Carolina [Regional] while climbing in visual conditions to cross airport westbound at or above 4,900. Then climb to 7,000 via heading 251[degrees] and HARRIS (HRS) VORTAC R-356 to HRS VORTAC before proceeding on course.” This track guarantees ground clearance but requires a ceiling above 3,400 feet and 2 miles visibility. It also wasn’t a legal option, as the procedure was “NA [Not Authorized] at night.”

Still, he might have cleared the hills but for one thing. The NTSB observed the landing gear appeared to be extended at impact. The gear lever was in the down position.

A fear for any retractable gear pilot is landing with the gear up. But  pilots must also remember flying with gear down limits airspeed, increases fuel burn, and hurts climb performance.

Testing with an X-Plane 12 simulator with the reported parameters shows gear position makes a huge difference for this scenario. Repeatedly, I departed Runway 8, at pattern altitude turned to 045 degrees, brought the power back to 25 inches manifold pressure, and maintained a climb speed of 90 to 100 knots. Bringing the gear up after takeoff, I always cleared the ridgeline, averaging 4,500 feet msl. With gear down,
I always crashed, often at 3,600 feet.

READ MORE: After the Accident: Hard Deck Lessons

Habit, checklist discipline, and listening to your airplane are the principal ways to ensure gear retraction after takeoff. That said, writing about gear position and performance is easy compared to remembering to move that lever in a new plane in bad weather. There’s a fundamental difference between giving advice and following it.

Giving advice is like seeing a bear in your neighbor’s pool and texting they need to get it out. Following advice requires shooing the bear. The accident pilot’s friendly recommendation was: “You don’t want to go today. It’s really cruddy up there.” As the other pilot later told the NTSB: “Unfortunately, he did not heed his own advice.” 

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in the November/December 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine. 

The post After the Accident: VFR Departure appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Pilots interested in a unique taildragger with economical operating costs should consider this 1976 Beechcraft B19 Musketeer Sport, which is available for $64,995 on AircraftForSale.

Unlike earlier model years, the 1976 B19 Musketeer Sport featured here offers two cabin doors, easing cabin access. Like all Musketeers, it is equipped with plush trailing-link main landing gear that smooths out all but the harshest touchdowns and worst runway surfaces. While outwardly similar to a Piper Warrior, it is both larger and taller with ramp presence that becomes evident when the two types are parked side-by-side.

While the 150-horsepower Lycoming O-320 provides relatively modest power, its 2000-hour TBO bests many other engines. With only 1,273 hours since major overhaul, the new owner of this Musketeer can expect many years of use before reaching TBO. Until then, they can enjoy peace of mind knowing that this engine has good compressions and has had oil changes every 25 hours. In addition, oil analysis reports are availableforo review.

• READ MORE: Beechcraft Musketeer Sport II

With 5,246 hours on the airframe, this Musketeer is well-used, but it has also been fastidiously maintained. Always hangared with complete logs (viewable on aircraftforsale.com) and no corrosion, the current owner has replaced the landing gear’s rubber “donuts” that provide shock absorption. They have also upgraded the landing and strobe lights with modern LEDs and are including a 22-pound aft ballast weight the new owner can install to improve the center of gravity during most flight operations.

Inside, the IFR panel is very cleanly arranged with a freshly overhauled GNS430, a Bluetooth audio panel, and a Stratus ESG transponder, providing ADS-B in and out. The airplane has no known damage history and appears to be a bargain, near the very bottom of our PlanePrice Beta pricing analysis.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

The post Bargain Buys on AircraftForSale: 1976 Beechcraft B19 Musketeer Sport appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

1958 Beechcraft J35 Bonanza

It’s easy to drop a lot of change on one of the most popular single-engine models ever built, but every once in a while an early version of the Beech Bonanza comes up on the market.

This 1958 J35 model has the striking V-tail, with an average amount of total time on the airframe (4,821) for its age. The insight into the price? A relatively high-time Continental IO-470 engine, with 1,747 hours since last overhaul, and an annual due in June. 

But for $52,900, you can budget a certain amount for the future engine update, as well as a few items picked up during the annual or pre-buy inspection.

READ MORE: Plane Facts: Beech Bonanzas

Interested in more deals like this? Check out AircraftForSale.com and our new PlanePrice feature that gives you a window into the opportunities that are out there.

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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.

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.

STANDARD DATA: Seats 2. Gross wt. 1,675. Empty wt. 1,100. Fuel capacity 30. Engine 115-hp Lycoming. PERFORMANCE: Top mph 122. Cruise mph 121. Stall mph 54. Initial climb rate 720. Ceiling 12,900. Takeoff distance (50′) 1,280. Landing distance (50′) 1,313. Range 447.

Originally designated the PD 28’S, this single-engine trainer was first delivered in early 1979. A low-wing T-tail model, it was powered by a four-cylinder Lycoming engine rated at 115 hp at 2,700 rpm. The Skipper’s canopy-type cabin gives the instructor and student pilot optimum, all-around visibility, while both left and right doors provide for convenient entry. An external tunnel on the bottom of the fuselage houses primary controls and makes for additional cabin room, as well as allowing for easy maintenance. A new concept in airfoil design was utilized by the Skipper. Its airfoil section is an outgrowth of NASA’s high-speed, super-critical airfoil technology and provides a lower drag, higher lift capability. The T-tail configuration places the horizontal stabilizer above the slipstream in undisturbed air to give smoother flight and more positive control during landing maneuvers.

The Skipper is the third Beechcraft T-tail model, following the Super King Air and Duchess. A substantial portion of its construction is bonded metal, including the lower cabin section of the fuselage, the entire wing, the leading edge of the vertical stabilizer, the trim tabs, and the rudder. The landing gear is a low-maintenance, spring system designed for sturdiness and utility. Control response is superbly balanced, and the ailerons are quite frisky in all speed ranges right down to the stall. Stalling the Skipper is almost fun. The wings give lots of prestall buffetto let you know that it is about to quit flying. For cross-country flights, the 29 gallons of usable fuel combine with a 65% power setting to yield a 4.6-hour endurance. Only 312 of these two-place trainers were built before production was halted abruptly in 1981.

The Beechcraft Skipper is one of the best deals on the used market. Check out some of the other Cheapest Planes In The Sky.

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