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According to the Pilot Communications Company, the PA 17-79 DNC XL is a pretty special unit. It offers 18-22 dB DNC and a maximum ambient noise level of 120 dB SPL at 100 Hz, in a bi-directional polar pattern, in addition to an EVI circuit with a 2-4 dB gain at 500-1000 MHz-with only an 8-16 VDC requirement.
I have no idea exactly what that all means, of course, but I think it's supposed to impress me. At least the folks at Pilot headsets must have thought it would, or they wouldn't have displayed all that technoscrabble so prominently throughout the PA 17-79's brochure.
I actually have several of these high-tech headset brochures scattered across my office floor at the moment. I had tried out a few different headsets recently, and I was trying to form an intelligent, informed opinion about their various merits and problems. I diligently poured over dB levels of active noise reduction, frequency modulation ranges, power requirements, pressure ports and other whiz-bang qualities that were supposed to set the different designs apart until I got a headache worse than any headset itself ever gave me.
I finally tossed all the pages on the floor and walked out to get an aspirin, muttering some rather discouraging words about my interest in dBs, SPLs, EVIs or any other techo-alphabet details. I was halfway to the medicine cabinet before the significance of my words sunk in. I went back into my office, took another look at the fact sheets strewn across my floor and came to the profound and stirring revelation that while the headset manufacturers of America may know a lot about designing ear protection, they don't know the first thing about marketing it.
I remember my first headset purchase, you see. And it had nothing to do with decibel levels or hearing protection. It had to do with saving my relationship with my copilot.
It was back in 1987, and my friend Jim was trying to teach me how to fly the Cessna 120 taildragger we had just bought together. I was a brand-new pilot with 80 whole hours in my logbook, most of which had been accumulated in a very forgiving nosewheel Cherokee Warrior. Jim was a seasoned tailwheel pilot who was convinced he could teach anyone to fly something as simple as a Cessna 120. Even the woman he was dating.
