Out of the Annual...FINALLY!
We finally picked up the airplane last Wednesday morning. I had asked Bill and company to put it out on the line at Galveston so I could pick it up before they opened, but my wife and I both were slower than planned getting up and getting down there. We didn’t arrive in Galveston until about 9:30 .a.m. It was a typical August day with temperatures already heading into the nineties. Little white and grey puffy clouds were already surrounding us, building into the tall ragged spires that would later become thunderstorms.
The airplane looked good as we approached, though my first thought was that control lock had been lost since the elevator and aileron positions corresponded to using the seat belts to secure the controls. Sure enough, once I had climbed up on the wing to look inside, I could see that the co-pilot’s side seat belt had been used, Piper-style, to secure the controls. I opened the canopy, sat down in the pilot’s seat, and prowled through the pockets on the backs of the front seats. In a few short minutes, I had located the aircraft’s flight logs, the missing control lock, the throttle lock, an extra “gas checker” I never use, the weight and balance forms, and a 2006 copy of the AOPA Airport Directory. I sat and looked over the instrument panel and everything seemed to be in place.
Getting out of the airplane, I walked slowly through a preflight inspection, pointing out to my wife every little thing that Bill and his crew had fixed. It was quite a lot. Attention to detail was evident everywhere, and especially inside the engine compartment. The hoses were now held in place with tie wrap and the carb heat cable was now properly secured. Screws that had been missing in the airframe were now replaced. The right wing even looked cleaned and waxed.
Once the preflight was done, I hopped in the cockpit, pulled out my headset, a push-to-talk switch, kneeboard, checklist, and charts and configured the cockpit for flight. When that was done, I hopped back out and fetched the airplane’s tow bar out of the baggage compartment, hooked it up; and my wife and I pulled the Cheetah over to the fuel pumps. I topped off her fuel tanks not only to check performance and whether I still had fuel leaking from the caps but because Galveston was selling avgas fifty cents per gallon cheaper than the FBO at my home field. When that was done, we pushed the airplane back into her spot. I hopped in, gave my wife my handheld radio so we could chat as needed, kissed her good-bye, and started the Cheetah up.
After getting clearance to taxi from the tower, I made my way down taxiway Echo to runway 13. Everything during the taxi appeared to be nominal, and the airplane passed her takeoff checks with flying colors as well. I did have to burn out the left mag a bit to get smooth operation, but that’s not anything unusual with my airplane; it happens routinely if I don’t lean the mixture during taxi and I had forgotten to do that.
Tower cleared me to launch off runway 13. I taxied out and then stopped the bird on the runway so I could take s second to look at all my engine readings before releasing my brakes. Everything looked good, so I let the brakes up and the airplane accelerated smoothly down the runway. I rotated at 60, and a few moments later, we were lifting off. Holding best climb rate airspeed, the airplane climbed at a little over 600 feet per minute, pretty good for it on a hot summer day. I had requested closed traffic and the tower cleared me for a right downwind turn, telling me to report mid-field. I climbed straight ahead over the beach and out over the water until I hit 700 feet, then turned right, glancing back over my shoulder to check my angle with the runway on crosswind. Pattern altitude is at about a thousand feet. I hit it as I turned back downwind.
I flew two approaches at Galveston, the first “clean wing” (no flaps) and the second using full flaps. I found myself high on final during both and kicked in right rudder to slip me down. Touchdowns were good with the second a bit firm, but the airplane systems and handling all working as expected. On the second touch and go I requested a northerly departure that was granted, and I began a turn to the right and a climb up to twenty-five hundred feet. It took me a while to get there. I was north of Texas City when I did.
There is a large pasture north of Texas City’s petroleum plant and on the edge of Galveston Bay many of us local pilots use as a “practice field”. I flew toward it but realized before I got there it would be socked in. But just southeast of it was a “bowl” of clear airspace that would work just fine, so I set myself up in the center of a ring of building cumulous clouds for the airwork I wanted to do. Slowing down to about 100 mph, I put the airplane into a level, sixty degree angle of bank turn, making sure I put a couple of G’s on the airplane while listening and feeling for anything unusual. But nothing extraordinary happened. Good! Slowing down to best rate climb speed (about 90 mph), I shoved the throttle forward and trimmed the airplane for climb before pulling the nose up until the airplane stalled. The stall break was abrupt but not unexpected or unusual and no abnormal roll tendencies were noted (none at all, in fact). Recovering, I then slowed down to landing approach speed (75 mph), pulled the throttle back, and performed a landing stall. Again, the stall break was abrupt but expected and no unusual rolling characteristics exhibited themselves. Adding power, I cleaned the airplane up, leveled off, and headed west out of the area.
Figuring my wife might be up the highway toward my location, I called her a couple of times on the radio but got no answer back. Flying out over Interstate 45, I looked for the Montero’s white, square shape but didn’t see a vehicle I could positively identify as hers; so, I headed back to Pearland. After doing a couple of touch and go’s there, I landed, taxied over to our tiedown spot, and waited for her to arrive. It had grown so hot she had little interest in flying, so I pushed the airplane back in under its carport and tied it down as I awaited her arrival.
She showed up about five minutes later, a good fifteen minutes after I had made it back to the field.
It was nice having the airplane back in its spot. It had been gone so long that one person had wondered if I had died and several people had called the FBO to inquire about whether our carport’s spot had opened up.
I’m still trying to figure out whether airplane ownership is worth the expense; but for now, it’s nice to have our airplane back in its barn.
The airplane looked good as we approached, though my first thought was that control lock had been lost since the elevator and aileron positions corresponded to using the seat belts to secure the controls. Sure enough, once I had climbed up on the wing to look inside, I could see that the co-pilot’s side seat belt had been used, Piper-style, to secure the controls. I opened the canopy, sat down in the pilot’s seat, and prowled through the pockets on the backs of the front seats. In a few short minutes, I had located the aircraft’s flight logs, the missing control lock, the throttle lock, an extra “gas checker” I never use, the weight and balance forms, and a 2006 copy of the AOPA Airport Directory. I sat and looked over the instrument panel and everything seemed to be in place.
Getting out of the airplane, I walked slowly through a preflight inspection, pointing out to my wife every little thing that Bill and his crew had fixed. It was quite a lot. Attention to detail was evident everywhere, and especially inside the engine compartment. The hoses were now held in place with tie wrap and the carb heat cable was now properly secured. Screws that had been missing in the airframe were now replaced. The right wing even looked cleaned and waxed.
Once the preflight was done, I hopped in the cockpit, pulled out my headset, a push-to-talk switch, kneeboard, checklist, and charts and configured the cockpit for flight. When that was done, I hopped back out and fetched the airplane’s tow bar out of the baggage compartment, hooked it up; and my wife and I pulled the Cheetah over to the fuel pumps. I topped off her fuel tanks not only to check performance and whether I still had fuel leaking from the caps but because Galveston was selling avgas fifty cents per gallon cheaper than the FBO at my home field. When that was done, we pushed the airplane back into her spot. I hopped in, gave my wife my handheld radio so we could chat as needed, kissed her good-bye, and started the Cheetah up.
After getting clearance to taxi from the tower, I made my way down taxiway Echo to runway 13. Everything during the taxi appeared to be nominal, and the airplane passed her takeoff checks with flying colors as well. I did have to burn out the left mag a bit to get smooth operation, but that’s not anything unusual with my airplane; it happens routinely if I don’t lean the mixture during taxi and I had forgotten to do that.
Tower cleared me to launch off runway 13. I taxied out and then stopped the bird on the runway so I could take s second to look at all my engine readings before releasing my brakes. Everything looked good, so I let the brakes up and the airplane accelerated smoothly down the runway. I rotated at 60, and a few moments later, we were lifting off. Holding best climb rate airspeed, the airplane climbed at a little over 600 feet per minute, pretty good for it on a hot summer day. I had requested closed traffic and the tower cleared me for a right downwind turn, telling me to report mid-field. I climbed straight ahead over the beach and out over the water until I hit 700 feet, then turned right, glancing back over my shoulder to check my angle with the runway on crosswind. Pattern altitude is at about a thousand feet. I hit it as I turned back downwind.
I flew two approaches at Galveston, the first “clean wing” (no flaps) and the second using full flaps. I found myself high on final during both and kicked in right rudder to slip me down. Touchdowns were good with the second a bit firm, but the airplane systems and handling all working as expected. On the second touch and go I requested a northerly departure that was granted, and I began a turn to the right and a climb up to twenty-five hundred feet. It took me a while to get there. I was north of Texas City when I did.
There is a large pasture north of Texas City’s petroleum plant and on the edge of Galveston Bay many of us local pilots use as a “practice field”. I flew toward it but realized before I got there it would be socked in. But just southeast of it was a “bowl” of clear airspace that would work just fine, so I set myself up in the center of a ring of building cumulous clouds for the airwork I wanted to do. Slowing down to about 100 mph, I put the airplane into a level, sixty degree angle of bank turn, making sure I put a couple of G’s on the airplane while listening and feeling for anything unusual. But nothing extraordinary happened. Good! Slowing down to best rate climb speed (about 90 mph), I shoved the throttle forward and trimmed the airplane for climb before pulling the nose up until the airplane stalled. The stall break was abrupt but not unexpected or unusual and no abnormal roll tendencies were noted (none at all, in fact). Recovering, I then slowed down to landing approach speed (75 mph), pulled the throttle back, and performed a landing stall. Again, the stall break was abrupt but expected and no unusual rolling characteristics exhibited themselves. Adding power, I cleaned the airplane up, leveled off, and headed west out of the area.
Figuring my wife might be up the highway toward my location, I called her a couple of times on the radio but got no answer back. Flying out over Interstate 45, I looked for the Montero’s white, square shape but didn’t see a vehicle I could positively identify as hers; so, I headed back to Pearland. After doing a couple of touch and go’s there, I landed, taxied over to our tiedown spot, and waited for her to arrive. It had grown so hot she had little interest in flying, so I pushed the airplane back in under its carport and tied it down as I awaited her arrival.
She showed up about five minutes later, a good fifteen minutes after I had made it back to the field.
It was nice having the airplane back in its spot. It had been gone so long that one person had wondered if I had died and several people had called the FBO to inquire about whether our carport’s spot had opened up.
I’m still trying to figure out whether airplane ownership is worth the expense; but for now, it’s nice to have our airplane back in its barn.
posted by Andy Foster at 5:58 AM
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