Finally rolling her out of the hangar!
This Sunday afternoon in-depth preflight ends with everything good and buttoned up. I’m thinking it has been three maybe four weeks since flying the sunset, but opening the logbook later will show five weeks. The flight windows are narrowed by snow on Easter, consistent rains especially on weekends, visits to kids and grandkids… no complaints but time is flying and now I finally will too.
Rolling her out toward the open hangar doors, another mental recheck leaves me squinting and figuring trying to convince myself that I did totally tighten that primer fitting several days ago. OK, I’ll do this stuff right…
Three minutes later, after a quick look-see the cowl is back on and she’s glinting out in the sunlight. I knew the fitting was tightened, I just like to stay in good practice taking the cowls off.
The preflight begins with inserting the brake pin through the strut into the brake disc and setting the nose down. The cockpit check ends with pulling the two nose pins back through the instrument panel releasing the nose hatch. Kneeling down over the nose, after lifting the duct-taped lead-shot-filled inner tube ground ballasts out of the nose its easy to reach in and pull on the rudder pedals to check how the brakes feel. You can watch the rudders at the same time.
The fuel sample shows clear even with all the high humidity. Earlier, the prop had needed only a little re-torquing. All’s good. Let’s light ‘er up.
Pulling the prop through during the walk around produces a quiet hissing inside the cowl. Listening through several more pulls has me thinking a sleepy exhaust valve. It has been a while since the last flight. During the actual start a few minutes later, the hiss goes silent on the 6th pull and she starts on the 12th. A grain of carbon in the valve seat? I expect the idle to be rough at first but it smoothes right down. The engine shows no further issues.
Taxiing out there is a low electric growl in the headset. Now what. Turning things off and on has no effect. Squelching the radio just increases the low growl. Shucks. Guess we’re headin back to the hangar. But since we’re out here, why not go ahead and finish the runup. Let’s see. Hmmm. The growl kinda matches the engine rpm. Sooo?
Ahah! There is an indicator! The voltmeter shows only 12 volts. Is the alternator asleep? Running up toward 1700 rpm the voltage goes to 13.5 and the growl goes away. Cool! The squelch now has the normal crisp static and a call to Ground is normal. I should quickly claim smarts and talents here. Check list? Yep. Back to the beginning.
During takeoff the pilot stuff settles back to average. Everything starts out fine. On liftoff the plane accelerates up to only 145 mph. Delayed intelligence is insistently tapping me on the shoulder and finally waves a density altitude flag in front of my brain. Even though we are at 700 msl, winter is over. Unlike the cool flights, the temperature and density altitude is high enough to make a difference. The mixture lever comes back gently from full rich and the rush of the wind noise rises to the accustomed 160 mph lifting out over the departure end numbers. Thus mildly reminded, I won’t miss leaning to max RPM/CHT on runup again.
On crosswind the tower beats me to the switch and clears Eze Bravo Juliet for two circuits around the grass strip pattern. They remember. Turning crosswind on the second low pass they pre-approve a west departure. Good guys in there.
Zipping toward the sunset the CHTs settle. On takeoff and climbout they peaked and held around 390 degrees during the high power grass strip runs. On climbout to the west they lower to the normal high cruise temps in a 320 to 360 spread. Pulling to lean of peak the airplane settles in to an easy lope and cruise climbing at 150 mph the CHTs settle in from 290 to 340 degrees. An earlier reshaping of the upper NACA lip to a better inverted airfoil shape lowered the temps on that side about 40 degrees.
The oil temp is settling from 205 and will hold at about 195. In level flight the elevator trailing edges are about an eighth inch higher now with the 0-290. On less aggressive, more normal flights where the power is pulled back early for a more sedate climbout and cruise, the oil temp often stays around 190 with the temps around 320.
Accustomed to the robust takeoff and comfortable cruise conditions, only now sitting here at the keyboard does the different intake and carb setup come to mind. I’m so glad.
Heading back in toward home a glance back at the fuel gauges shows the sky darkening toward the auburn sunset. Without much help the plane turns 45 degrees for a better view over my shoulder. After a dozen wingovers, surely we belong to each other forever. After a minute or so we turn back on course. Out ahead lights begin to twinkle in to the warm shadows of summer dusk. The pilot stuff is coming easy now. I don’t want to stop. Rolling level on the 45 degree entry for 17R things are fast and good and I’m ahead again. Scanning outside for traffic, hands move easily on the controls.
It is good to get up to speed again. I’m thinking that it was a recent AOPA article that quoted a wise pilot’s observation that everyone makes mistakes, the difference being whether attitude and discipline have provided any margin, or not.
Planning the approach includes the summer regime sinking in. When I put her to bed she won’t need the drop light in the cowl overnight to kill the chill anymore. It’ll be fine in the mornings now. Flying will be a little different. Lots more bug guts. Thinner air means a little less oomph. Afternoon thunderstorms.
The brisk turn to downwind triggers the ritual to check the gear down three times. Be ready to dance the rudders a little.
Rolling smooth through the 90, can’t help but eagerly anticipate a greaser in the slightly bustling winds. Sometimes a guy gets to do a little of that pilot stuff, thank goodness.
Is there another feeling like gliding her in and massaging her down through ground effect and chirping the tires and rolling out easily nose still high in the landing posture and gently settling her smoothly level just at the right time, everything good, just like a guy knew what he was doing.
Coasting up to the hulking tin cave, “Cheated Death Again!” is announced to bounce out between the hangars. Mixture slowly back and the last wisps of hollow thunder escape out the exhaust. She rolls into place and glides to a stop. Everything is still. Echoing silence. Punching the switches off, I stop. I don’t want to move yet. Slightly tired. A good tired. Somehow more invigorated.
Still a pilot for moment longer, grin into the ritual push up and out, sitting on the longeron, turning back to see the cowl and prop still there. That’s always nice. And as always an appreciative glance at the intakes on the spar. Thanks guys.
I don’t know what occupies the mind of lots of folks these days during a sunset…
Thank goodness.
Bill James, Fort Worth VariEze