I’ve always been of the opinion that if I die in my airplane, I want it to be for a really good reason. Enemy missiles taking me down, for example. Maybe an unforecasted asteroid slicing through the airframe, or a zombie horde descending upon me as I frantically try to get the engine started. Something respectable and interesting. Just so long as it’s not something stupid, like a broken axle flipping me over at 40 mph or a random object becoming jammed in the flight controls.
That last scenario had been on my mind over the past couple of months. As I became familiar with my airplane, I’d gradually identified several annoyances to address, and topping the list was the lack of places to put things. Pens, iPad, water bottle, notepad, phone…it had all been sliding around on the passenger seat and getting in the way. Cockpit organization was lacking, and to prevent something from dropping into some random crevasse and creating problems, the issue had to be addressed.
