1959 Piper PA-22

While not the Tri-Pacer noted in the heading of the listing (that would be for the tricycle-gear version), this Piper PA-22 offers low-cost tailwheel fun for the pilot attracted to its sunny personality and approachability. With 3,381 hours on the airframe and a high-time engine, it’s ready for some attention, though compressions are reported to remain in the 70s.

In the instrument panel, there’s a BendixKing KY-97A VHF com radio, KN-53 VHF nav unit, and KT-76A transponder, plus an EGT gauge. The annual was last completed in June 2023. The aircraft paint is in good condition, as is the interior, according to the seller. Another plus? A spin-on oil filter has been installed, along with new bungees in 2023.

READ MORE: 1952 Piper PA-20 Pacer

It’s priced now as a good deal at $39,900, and based in Oregon.

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.

The idea that civilian aircraft might be adapted for the military training market is not a new one. The most successful is the T-34, developed from the Beechcraft Bonanza and its many variants. Additionally, the French Socata Epsilon, based on the TB family of aircraft, and the Globe Swift-based Temco T35 Buckaroo both have deep general aviation roots. And so, like others before, Piper stepped in to fill a need for a military trainer. 

The year is 1976, and Chilean Dictator Augusto Pinochet has been in power for nearly three years. In response, the United States has placed an embargo on military equipment sales and support to Chile. Caught in the middle, the Chilean Air Force, which had a long history of collaboration with the U.S. Air Force, was left with an aging and unsupportable fleet of U.S. surplus primary trainers. With the tacit cooperation of the United States government, the Chilean Air Force turned to Vero Beach-based Piper Aircraft for help. Piper was a logical choice. The Chilean Air Force had already created an in-house industrial company, the Empresa Nacional De Aeronautica De Chile (ENAER), to manage its logistical requirements. And ENAER was already assembling Piper Dakota kits, shipped from the Vero Beach facility, in Chile for use as liaison aircraft. However, this would be a more ambitious project. 

“Unlike the Cherokee Six, the Pillán is fully aerobatic, an excellent instructional platform, and a cost-effective trainer to introduce fledgling pilots to high-performance maneuvers.“

To meet this challenge, Piper settled on the PA 32R Saratoga as the basic airframe. The IO 540 300 horsepower engine, retractable landing gear and proven airframe were just what the air force required. However, the six-seat side-by-side interior was replaced by a tandem, two-seat cockpit section under an expansive bubble canopy. Additionally, the wings were clipped and strengthened to allow for positive six and negative three G aerobatics. Control sticks, military throttles and provisions for parachutes completed the conversion from family hauler to wannabe fighter plane. Looking closely at the completed aircraft, it looks like a retractable Cherokee Six with a two-seat F18 cockpit grafted onto the center fuselage section. 

The company completed two prototypes of the new T-35 Pillán (Devil) labeled XBT and YBT. First flight took place at Piper’s Lakeland, Florida, facility on the 31^st of August 1981. Flight testing proved the Pillán met all Air Force requirements. During the next decade, an additional 152 aircraft kits were shipped out of Piper’s Vero Beach facility. One hundred and eleven kits were assembled in Chile by ENAER. An additional 41 kits were assembled by Construcciones Aeronauticas SA (CASA) in Spain. More on that in a moment. 

While the T-35 Pillán has a slightly higher empty weight than the Saratoga, its maximum gross weight is about 500 pounds less than its Cherokee Six-based parent. Cruise and never-exceed speeds are similar, with a small edge to the Pillán. However, the climb rate of the Pillán is significantly improved, yielding 1,500 feet per minute off the deck. 

 “To Piper’s delight, the Pillán turned out to be a major success and, more importantly, a survivor. Thirty-five years later, the T-35 Pillán, in all its variants, still serves as a primary trainer in Chile, Spain, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Panama and Paraguay.“

Unlike the Cherokee Six, the Pillán is fully aerobatic, an excellent instructional platform, and a cost-effective trainer to introduce fledgling pilots to high-performance maneuvers. The large canopy is a favorite of pilots and instructors, and a recent glass cockpit update keeps aspiring military pilots up to date. Instructors love the high-mounted rear cockpit, which allows an unobstructed view of the runway ahead as well as their students in the front seat. Close examination of the aircraft reveals the nose cowling, semi-tapered wings, landing gear and tail of the Saratoga are carried over nearly unchanged. 

The Pillán entered service at the Chilean Air Force Academy in 1985. The story might just end here with the Pillán entering service before quickly fading into obscurity, but this story has a far happier ending. 

To Piper’s delight, the Pillán turned out to be a major success and, more importantly, a survivor. Thirty-five years later, the T-35 Pillán, in all its variants, still serves as a primary trainer in Chile, Spain, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Panama and Paraguay. The Spanish variant, aptly named the E.26 Tamiz (Sieve or Screen), is utilized to train and select pilot candidates for future assignments to various aircraft types. Spain and Chile remain the largest operators of the type, and nearly 100 of the original 154 are still in service. 

As in all successful aircraft, there have been several variants. Chile initially operated approximately 60 T-35A model aircraft for day VFR flight training. As missions changed, an additional 20 T-35B models were modified as instrument trainers. These were initially shipped with Collins and King avionics and have recently received multiple flatscreen displays to keep up with the requirements for future Chilean F-18 pilots.

As early as 1986, one of the original T-35s was fitted with the U.S.-based Soloy Turboprop modification, utilizing a 420-shaft horsepower Allison engine. While the performance increase was dramatic, the requirement was simply not there. 

Later, a few turboprop conversions, labeled the T-35T Aucan, were developed, but again, no large-scale production followed. Over the years, the Pillán has carried a variety of paint schemes, and the fleet is scrupulously kept up to date by the loyal ENAER staff. 

And the T-35 Pillán is a YouTube star to boot. A quick search reveals dozens of videos of the Pillán/Tamiz in flight. Many of these feature the ceremonial 12-ship diamond formation that has become the trademark of the Chilean Air Force academy. Every Spanish F-18 and Chilean F-16 pilot got their start in this tough little converted family hauler. Tracing its roots to the original Piper Cherokee, while training aspiring fighter pilots for nearly 40 years, the Piper (ENAER) T-35 Pillán is an Incredible Plane. 

The post Piper Pillán: A Saratoga With <i>Top Gun</i> Dreams appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

In 1979 alone, U.S. manufacturers delivered 2,843 piston twins, the high watermark for the decade, during which American plane makers never delivered fewer than 1,000 piston twins in any given year. 

The reason was not just that these planes offered the security of a second engine, though that was their primary selling point. Other big draws were combinations of a twin’s often-higher speeds, greater hauling capacity and larger cabin. 

One can debate the safety merits of twin-engine light aircraft vis-à-vis single-engine models endlessly, and just such a debate has, indeed, been ongoing in our community for the better part of a century. But for much of the earlier part of that conversation, there were a few assumptions about twins that were later called into question. 

The first is that big one, that twins are safer, an assumption called into question back in the 1970s by a few somewhat informal studies that concluded that twin-engine safety was largely a myth. The reason was hiding in plain sight. With a single-engine airplane, when an engine (the only one) quits, you’re going to land somewhere, somehow. But in a twin, the argument has always gone, you get to keep on flying. Unfortunately, that has not always led to brochure-worthy outcomes. The loss of an engine in a twin is especially dangerous when the engine goes on takeoff or climb out. If not handled quickly and properly, these engine failures usually result in an unsurvivable rolling crash into terrain or airport buildings. 

That’s why so much of the initial and recurrent training we do in twin-engine aircraft is with one engine caged. Twin-engine pilots need to learn how to respond to such emergencies by second nature because the time it takes to think things through when your twin loses an engine at low altitude is usually not fast enough to survive the failure. 

So, the argument goes, given that singles don’t have such a critical failure mode, and given that relatively few fatal accidents are caused by the loss of the single’s one powerplant, one’s odds might just be better in a single than in a twin, at least in that regard. Then again, the counterargument goes, all of the engine failures in twins that result in a safe landing somewhere never make it into the accident statistics, so the lives saved by that second engine are certainly greater than we know or have ever known. 

Many of today’s twin-engine aircraft, however, are safer in design in a number of ways from earlier models. Counter-rotating props eliminate the problem of one of the engines being more dangerous to lose than the other. Some new models feature full digital authority engine control (FADEC) and will automatically feather the prop (align the blades with the airflow for minimum drag on the dead engine). And all new-production twins feature more crashworthy structures than were required in the glory days, so some crashes are more survivable today. 

There are, as you are doubtless aware, fewer than 10 twin-engine models in current production, some of those built in very small numbers. Piper did not sell any of its once-popular Seneca models last year, and Beech sold 15 Barons. Worldwide, twins accounted for fewer than 100 sales, and that has been the case for nearly 20 years now. 

Twins still have their fans. Buyers of Beech Baron G58s and Diamond Aircraft DA-62s are shelling out well over a million for one of these gems, and they do so not only because they believe in the additional redundancy, performance and utility these planes offer, but also at least in part because multi-engine aircraft ownership still carries with it a level of status on an altogether different plane. 

—Isabel Goyer

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The post Our 2021 Roundup Of Light Twin Aircraft appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

The year 1964 was also memorable for the birth of the American muscle car. The Big Three automakers were shoehorning the biggest V8 engine they could find into their plain-vanilla midsize sedans. The iconic Pontiac GTO came first, but soon the Ford 427, Chevy 396 and the unbeatable 426 Hemi, bolted into sedate family sedans, were setting records at the drag strip. While it might just be coincidence, the idea of taking the biggest and most powerful eight-cylinder engine available and pairing it with the family-friendly Piper Comanche airframe apparently made sense. Thus, the Piper Comanche 400 was born. 

Originally designed as an alternative to the Beech Bonanza, the Comanche was a stable, fast and comfortable four-seater. Even today, the design stands up well against more recent designs. Pug Piper had ensured the original airframe was built to withstand over 7 G load factor, although it was certified for 5, so it could easily handle the higher gross weight and additional load required by a larger powerplant. The wing already housed 90-gallon fuel tanks, so adding a few more was not difficult. And the Piper parts bin was deep, so the original Comanche stabilator was replaced by a beefier unit from the Piper Apache twin. But what to put under the cowling? 

As it turns out, Piper’s neighbor a few miles up the Susquehanna River was in the process of certifying an eight-cylinder, 720-cubic-inch version of the Lycoming O-540 that was already the standard engine in the Comanche 250. This IO-720 was only offered with fuel injection and put out an incredible 400 horsepower without turbocharging. Mated to a three-bladed prop, fed by 100-gallon fuel tanks (130 gallons was available as an option) and sporting an increased max gross of 3,600 pounds, Piper’s flying muscle car was born. 

Aviation’s version of the quarter-mile dragstrip is time to climb. The Comanche 400 exceeded 1,600 feet per minute off the deck, and the aircraft climbed strongly to its service ceiling of 19,500 feet. It boasted a maximum level speed of 195 knots and a cruise of 185. This Comanche could get to altitude and the destination in a hurry, especially by 1964 standards. However, this performance came at a cost. Fuel consumption was over 20 gallons per hour, which yielded a nearly 800-mile range but with serious tradeoffs in useful load. Just like the muscle cars of the era, the Comanche 400 was a compromise between raw performance and utility. 

Just as the muscle car era came and went, only 148 Comanche 400s were produced from 1964 until 1966. However, as many as 25 examples are still flying today and appear from time to time on trade-a -plane. So, if you have the need for speed and can afford the fuel bills, you, too, can own a Comanche 400. If not, you can see the first prototype on display at the Piper Aviation Museum in Lock Haven. And one more thing—just like the muscle cars, the deep-throated rumble that only eight cylinders and dual exhaust can supply is part of the deal. Just maybe, the exhaust note alone makes this an Incredible Plane.

The post Piper Comanche 400: A Muscle Car On Wings appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

The purchase is a big deal for Spartan, which is looking to get a share of what it hopes is a reenergized flight training market, and flying in general, to get back to something resembling normal. In a press release, Spartan CEO Rob Polston noted, “Since 1928, Spartan has trained and changed the lives of more than 100,000 pilots and mechanics serving in civil and military careers. With the purchase of these aircraft, we are re-committing ourselves to Tulsa and Oklahoma.”

Piper’s Jackie Carlon told Plane & Pilot that Spartan has already taken delivery of 22 of those planes (20 Archers and 2 Seminoles) and plans to put 10 more Pipers on the flight line this coming year. 

The noteworthy airplane? None other than the 5,000^th Archer from Piper, which Piper handed over to Spartan on Thursday. In its early days, the 180-hp Archer was a power upgrade of 25 or 30 hp from the more popular Warrior, but in recent years the plane has pushed its 160 hp teammate aside and become the most popular Piper. It competes directly with Textron Aviation’s Cessna 172 Skyhawk, and the aircraft are similar in many regards, though not in their basic configuration—the Archer boasts a high-wing configuration, and the Archer, a low-wing design.

The post Piper Inks 32-Plane Deal With Spartan College Of Aeronautics appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

The big news in the introduction of the Piper M600 SLS is that it’s the first production plane ever with a complete autoland capability, no pilot required.

But the M600 SLS is worthy of particular mention, as Piper has given it a lot of additional service and quality-of-life upgrades to go along with the new safety utility.

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“SLS” stands for Safety, Luxury and Support. Piper is branding the web of safety utilities that come standard with the new plane as the Halo System. In addition to Autonomi (see main article), Halo features a host of Garmin hardware and software upgrades, including the full ESP suite, with overspeed, underspeed, overbank and several other envelope protection functions, Emergency Descent Mode; and, of course, Autoland.

The Luxury part of the SLS name is for the upgrade to all M600 SLS planes of the EXP personalization package, an extensive collection of cabin and exterior enhancements. Finally, for support, Piper is making its five-year Ultimate Care maintenance package standard on the M600 SLS.

Piper says the package of upgrades is a value worth more than $300,000, a figure we find very credible, while the price of the M600 has increased by only $66,000.

For more information about the M600 SLS, visit piper.com.

Read More About the Piper M600 SLS & Garmin Autoland: 

Piper M600 SLS: The First Production Plane That Lands Itself
Teaching Garmin Autoland To Think Like A Pilot
The Garmin Autoland Activation Sequence

The post Why The Piper M600 SLS Is Remarkable appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Context For The Future

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

Autoland gets the plane safely on the ground.

I know—I’ve done it.

It’s Not Just Software

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

On the M600, those things are:

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

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

When It Works

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

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

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

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

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How It Works

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The world of aviation has just changed.

Read More About the Piper M600 SLS & Garmin Autoland:

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

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

In some ways, the year 2019 was a remarkable one in aviation, but when it came to new plane introductions, it was, well, a continuation of a familiar trend. In the Part 23 world, there were no newly certificated planes, though at least one looks like an outside shot at getting approved by the end of the calendar year. Other emerging designs look as though they won’t make it. Some are being pushed out to 2020 and beyond, which is the way things are in the brave new world of airplane manufacturing.

The days are gone when each year brought a handful of clean-sheet airplane designs, high-flying models launched at Paris or Oshkosh (or Wichita or Vero Beach). Almost every new plane these days is a derivative of a former successful model. With the cost of designing, certifying and then producing a clean-sheet design being so astronomically expensive, while simultaneously the market for those designs has shrunk, it should surprise no one that companies overwhelmingly choose to rework existing designs instead of starting from scratch. This path not only cuts the risk of unpleasant surprises of the aerodynamic kind, but it also helps ensure a market for the new model—if the older version was a hit, then the new, improved one should make an even bigger splash. It often works exactly like that. And, to their credit, many of these updated models feature spectacular new capabilities, often as a result of incorporating a new safety system or powerplant upgrade.

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Our first plane of the year, the Cirrus SF50, is a recent clean-sheet design. When it garnered FAA approval, it became the only certificated single-engine jet in the world and brought with that accolade a remarkably spacious cabin with out-of-this-world visibility and design, and flying manners so user friendly that it made good on the claim to be the jet that SR22 high-performance piston-single pilots could realistically and safely step up to.

The changes in the Generation 2 edition are far from cosmetic upgrades. The latest Cirrus jet features autothrottles, a higher ceiling (up to 31,000 and, hence, RVSM approval), an increase in range up to 1,200 nm, and an attendant boost in useful load of 150 nm on shorter trips. On top of that, the SF50 is faster, too.  

Our other Plane of the Year winner is as far from a clean-sheet design as imaginable, or very nearly so. The Piper 100 and 100i are based on the classic Piper PA-28 design, which the company has spun off repeatedly over the last six decades. The Piper is different, though, than any previous iteration in the way it’s outfitted. It isn’t the first PA-28 to sport a Continental engine, the Continental Prime IO-370-DA3A, which puts out, you guessed it, 180 hp, the same as the Lycoming IO-360 in the Archer model it essentially updates. The 100 and 100i (the “i” adds a back seat position and instrument capability) also boast the Garmin G3X Touch Certified, a development of Garmin’s award-winning flat-panel avionics for amateur-built and LSA aircraft, along with the company’s newly announced GNX 375 navigator and GFC 500 digital autopilot. The combination of the remarkably capable but less-expensive avionics and the new Continental engine allowed Piper to offer the 100 and the 100i for the retail prices of $259,000 and $285,000, respectively, which make them around $100,000 less expensive than the Archer they complement in Piper’s successful training lineup. That could translate to more trainers and more happy, successful new pilots. And who doesn’t like the sound of that?

Congratulations to our Plane of the Year winners!

Click the “Next” button below to see contenders for next year.

The post 2019 Planes Of The Year: Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet G2 And Piper 100 appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Main Construction: Metal

Engine/HP: Continental CD-155/155 hp

Propeller: MT, 3-blade, composite, constant speed, 71″ diameter

Avionics: Garmin G1000

Top Cruise Speed: 123 kts

Stall, Landing Configuration: 49 kts

Max Range: 848 nm (45-minute reserve)

Max Takeoff Weight: 2,550 lbs.

Payload (full fuel): 488 lbs.

Useful Load: 794 lbs.

Takeoff/Landing Distance: 1,673 ft./1,400 ft. (50 ft. Obstacle)

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