For three years in the 1990s, I co-chaired a committee that put on an annual airshow at Compton/Woodley Airport (KCPM) in California.

Actually, it was an “air faire” because 99% of the planes that flew in to participate were put on static display. A lone army helicopter always performed an aerial demonstration.

One year a private pilot offered to give kids free rides in his plane. Another year a local helicopter flight school offered free rides to kids.

Otherwise, the only reason a plane was in the air was because it was arriving for the festivities or getting straight outta Compton en route to a home field.

There’s a moment in the 1998 film “Ronin” where Robert DeNiro’s character says to Jean Reno’s character, “Whenever there is any doubt, there is no doubt.”

In their world of espionage, the ability to recognize true, inner self-doubt and then act on it could be the difference between life and death.

More than one flight instructor I learned from put it another way: “Trust your gut.”

It’s not just about trusting that you’re right. It’s about trusting your sense that something’s wrong.

Based on the following reports to NASA’s Aviation Safety Reporting System, many pilots have trouble acting on their inner self-doubt.

I introduced my last column about reports to NASA’s Aviation Safety Reporting System from pilots who had experienced problems with contemporary RNAV approaches by describing a BFR/IPC combo I took over 10 years ago.

With sincerest apologies to my editor, publisher, and readers, I forgot to put quotes around the word “declared” in the phrase “…declared an emergency….” The emergency was simulated. The only person who heard me declare was my flight instructor. I did have a feathered prop and a dead engine, but only because he’d cut off the fuel flow. We were on a precision approach, but it was in CAVU VFR conditions. And we went missed at the DA, not any lower.

Even well-meaning writers miscommunicate. I use a mental shorthand while drafting my column. It helps me make sure I get my message across. But sometimes the shorthand ends up on the page instead of the message. Mental shorthand that leads to miscommunication is not reserved only for the writer’s room. It also finds its way into the cockpit.

A few years ago, I hadn’t flown in a few years, so I went to my local FBO to for biennial flight review/instrument proficiency check combo platter.

Wrapping up air work, my instructor launched right into approaches. “You’ve done LPVs before, right?” he asked me. “Sure,” I replied, thinking back to a previous life where he and I’d both flown turboprops at the same commuter airline. The FMS systems onboard those had LNAV/VNAV/RNAV databases loaded in, so in my mind, I conflated LPV with the rest of the abbreviations.

Once he loaded up an LPV approach and started briefing the approach plate with reference to the electronic glide path indicator, I realized this was something I’d never seen before. Before I had a chance to admit my error, he shut down an engine on me.

I went into autopilot mode and once “dead foot, dead engine” kicked in, muscle memory had the power lever pulled, the fuel shut off, and the propeller feathered. All secured, I declared an emergency and continued on the approach. The GPS was tracking, so I followed the glide path to the DA and then went missed. After the lesson, I admitted that had been my first ever LPV approach.

LPVs, LNAVs, and VNAVs are all RNAVs, but not all RNAVs are created equal. Sorting out the various RNAV approaches can be difficult.  An LPV is a Localizer with Vertical Guidance approach. It takes advantage of the refined accuracy of the wide area augmentation system (WAAS) lateral and vertical guidance to provide approaches approximating the accuracy of a Category I ILS. This is not be confused with an LP, a Localize Performance without Vertical Guidance or Lateral Navigation.

I surfed over to the Aviation Safety Reporting System website to research a topic for this column. I typed in “cracked windshield” and waited. A thought popped into my head that reminded me to check out an airplane seller’s website. I scrolled through a plane or two from the inventory when I remembered this was not the reason I was on the internet.

I jumped back over to the ASRS tab. My search had yielded hundreds of “cracked windshield” hits, but they were all reports from pilots flying heavy iron. “Iron” reminded me I needed to fold the clothes in the dryer, which somehow led me to think about what kind of railing we were mulling to put on our refurbished back deck, which got me to thinking about how I always text my wife “on the deck” when I go flying and safely reach my destination. A loud, metallic clanging noise somewhere in my neighborhood reminded me of that one time at my old airline… [Read more…]

I’ve never hand propped an airplane, so I don’t know that thrill. I used to jump-start my manual transmission cars by popping the clutch. It’s not quite the same, but from that I think I can approximate the rush that comes from spinning life into a dead airplane.

In this day and age, should you hand prop an airplane if other conventional methods don’t work in getting the motor running? That’s a solid maybe in my book. The question isn’t can you. It’s should you?

It’s kind of like determining the difference between “legal to fly” and “safe to fly.” [Read more…]