A pivotal moment in my aviation life has been on my mind lately. I’d been shopping for an airplane and thought I’d found a good one — a really good one.
It was priced near the top of my financial capacity but the engine was very low time, the panel was well updated and nicely laid-out, and it had been housed in a hangar for its entire life.
It felt like a good deal. Then I got the pre-buy inspection report back. It detailed a multitude of very expensive airframe issues that needed repair. These weren’t optional. They were critical safety issues.
I passed on the purchase.
While lamenting the lost opportunity to a friend, as well as my dissatisfaction at the expense of the pre-buy inspection, I was the beneficiary of some of the best insight I could hope for.
“There’s always another one,” my friend said.
He was right, too. I might have convinced myself that I’d found the perfect airplane, but it wasn’t the only one on the market. There are others. Lots of others.
And, frankly, it might have been the perfect airplane for me. But with the additional repairs it was just a perfect airplane that was out of my price range.
There are literally tens of thousands of aircraft that meet that standard. When I put the experience in the proper perspective, the loss didn’t bother me much. It’s just part of the process. One that goes on and on. One that will always be at the back of my mind. What do I want? What can I afford? And, maybe the most important question of all, will this really meet my needs?
I’ve loved the aircraft I’ve been fortunate enough to own over the years. I’m lucky to have been in a position to buy them, fly them, and maintain them. In the end I’ve let them all go on to be cared for by another owner. That’s just the nature of a well-built product. It can outlast my needs while still having real value to someone else.
Consider the numbers. The FAA tells us there are 19,633 airports in the U.S. Slightly more than 5,000 are public. Nearly three times as many are private. There are aircraft on the ground at the vast majority of them.
The general aviation fleet includes something on the order of 167,000 aircraft. Nearly 35,000 of those aircraft fall into the experimental category. Those aircraft and their pilots log in the neighborhood of 25 million flight hours a year.
Those are impressive numbers. Numbers that give me hope.
As my friend suggested, there’s another one out there. For those of us who want to own an aircraft there are plenty of options available. Just flip a page to the classified section of the print edition of General Aviation News and you’ll find an impressive collection. The bulletin board hanging on the wall at any one of those nearly 20,000 airports includes a smattering of options as well.
These days I don’t own an airplane. The high school aero club I volunteer with has one, which I can fly pretty much at will. It’s a good deal. I just pay the actual operating cost of the airplane and I can use it within the parameters established by the club.
Essentially, as long as I stay in the United States, I’m good to go. That gives me a playground of about 5.3 million square miles to work with. Plenty of room for me to stretch my wings, whether I personally own them or not.
It took four years of growth, commitment, fundraising, and volunteering for the aero club to get to the position it needed to be in to purchase an airworthy aircraft.
The process wasn’t always easy. There was a hurricane or two that blew through, causing damage to the hangar and destroying all the records kept on paper. The file cabinets those records were housed in left the building when the doors fell off. The waterlogged pages flew into the distance, never to be collated again.
That was an unexpected bump in the road, but no more tragic than spending money on a pre-buy for an airplane you don’t end up buying.
There is hardship in life. There are disappointments. But there are also opportunities, happy accidents, and unexpected surprises that balance out the dark days.
For many of us, putting in four years to reach a specific, highly desirable goal is worth the effort. We can conceptualize the timeline and the payoff to assure ourselves when times get tough.
To a high school student however, four years equates to roughly 25% of their lifetime experience. That’s a high bar. It’s nearly inconceivable to put in that amount of time and effort to achieve something so foreign.
Then again, the sacrifice in time isn’t all that much different from the cash lost on the pre-buy that didn’t go anywhere. The values vary, but the lesson learned is remarkably similar. It takes time, effort, and a willingness to sacrifice to gain anything of real value in life.
Not every at bat results in a homer. Not every pass leads to a touchdown. Slapshots miss the mark more often than they find their way into the net. But it’s still worth playing the game. We live on hope. The potential for success. The belief that, yes, we can do it even if it’s hard.
Yep, there’s another one out there. Another airplane. Another airport. Another kid who wants to find their way inside the fence to see if aviation is a good fit. I’m pretty sure those of us lucky enough to be players in this industry have the potential to persist and remain patient in our efforts to grow and improve the industry. If we do that, I’m confident everything will work out just fine.
Well written. It is a sad fact that I was more able to fund my flying at age 15 while working at a large FBO, then it is at age 66 living debt free and running a small manufacturing business. Hangar rent, fuel prices, annual costs, medical costs, ADs, wear and tear on old spam cans, mickey mouse regulations at many GA airfields – all combine to take the fun out of an expensive hobby. No wonder there is a trend towards STOL aircraft from grass strips behind the house. Part 103 will likely also grow again as people who love to fly seek the means within their budget and without government meddling.