If the primary yardstick determining what constitutes a “bad” landing is the number and magnitude of its bounces, my worst landing ever was in a Cessna 182 at a beachside airport in North Carolina, with all the seats filled. I dropped it in pretty good, and the airplane’s eloquent reflection of my ineptitude resulted in a series of maybe five more bounces, becoming less harsh each time until—finally—all three wheels decided to stay on the ground at the same time. I had little to do with the eventual outcome, but at least I maintained directional control. I haven’t bounced one like that since.
That was long ago and far away from what I’d do now, which is go around after the first bounce. Back then, with fewer hours and airframes under my belt, I was less-inclined and totally unprepared for a go-around. These days, with more experience, I’m much more likely to go around after the first bounce, never mind the fifth. Although many factors can result in a bounced landing, I’m guessing I mishandled the flare and dropped the 182 in from a few feet too high. Failure to stabilize the airplane’s airspeed on final approach, and then forcing the mains onto the ground, may have been the catalyst. An enthusiastic pitch-up into the flare, overcompensating for the 182’s heavy nose when only the front seats are filled, may also have been a factor. I simply don’t remember. So much for “Land-O-Matic,” as Cessna originally described its tricycle landing gear design.
