Search Results for: Cessna 172

A mechanic writes, “Two aileron cables, one flap cable, and the fuel line are all routed through the l/h lower aft door post area. This fuel line is protected by a plastic sleeve, but an (aileron) cable wore through the sleeve (and began cutting) into the fuel line. This line (p/n 0500106-326) is approximately 20 inches long with four bends. I suggest a one-time inspection in case other aircraft might have this problem.”

Its morbidly fascinating to look at landing accidents involving pilots who came to grief while shooting an ILS in instrument weather. By contrast, VFR landing accidents tend to involve loss of control after landing, usually a result of too much speed at touchdown. Few VFR landing accidents involve crashing short of the runway itself. Yet, when actual IFR weather moves in and the airplane is on the ILS, the converse occurs, and suddenly pilots develop a proclivity for crashing before ever getting to the runway. As would be expected because an airplane is going far faster prior to the time it touches down than when it is when rolling out, landing accidents when flying the ILS in IFR conditions are more often fatal than landing accidents when flying VFR. The instrument landing system has been around for over a half century. In its own way, it is instrument flyings simple and reliable old boot; the two-needle, three-dimensional approach system that funnels one to a touchdown spot about 1500 feet down a comfortingly long runway. With a time-proven design that guides arriving aircraft over the runway threshold at a safe 50 feet or so, how come so many GA pilots find a way to depart from the friendly confines of the ILS arrival cone and smack into the planet before getting to the runway? Why are so very few GA ILS accidents in IFR of the sort where the airplane overshot the touchdown point and went off the end of the runway as is expected in VFR conditions?

The crew heard a noise when the landing gear was retracted. The left landing gear remained in a partially retracted position, unable to retract or extend. A successful gear-up landing ensued. The l/h landing gear actuator body (p/n 128101-3) had cracked at the forward mounting bolt hole, allowing the actuator bore to open enough that the piston would not engage the pivot sector gear sufficiently to move the landing gear.

Comanche seven-three Papa, Wichita approach; winds two-zero-zero degrees at one-eight, gusts to 30.” “Approach, seven-three Pop; copy the winds…guess well keep up the pace a bit.” “Comanche Seven-Three Papa, Dorothy says, Welcome to Kansas.” When first sitting down to assemble this article, my initial thoughts turned to my logbook. Inside it are more than a few notations about such not-unusual days; the controllers welcome in this one made me chuckle. At almost the same instant, the sound of 30-knot gusts rattling the trees outside my office focused my attention on the days local conditions-an environment offering abundant signs that any flying means dealing with gusts. My familiarity with gusty conditions started developing during my primary training. A regular part of my time-building solo practice involved August afternoons hopping among five Wichita-area fields. Typically, those hot summer days and nights brought winds blowing hard, in the teens to low 20s, and usually gusty-as much as 20 knots above the mean. For much of that month gusty winds served up a significant challenge for a student pilot armed only with a Cherokee 140 and determination. Hey, its Kansas.

Its probably a fair bet that every person who has flown an airplane more than about 20 hours has made at least five landings he or she not only considers personally embarrassing but remains convinced to this day could be measured on the Richter scale. So, lets be honest with ourselves from the very beginning: As active pilots, we are going to make ugly landings from time to time. Further, Murphys Law says we will probably make them when a lot of people are watching. Therefore, lets recognize that a little humility (and perhaps humiliation) is the price of acquiring and maintaining the skills necessary to cause a rapidly moving flying machine to return to the planet in a condition to be reused immediately. As a result, once we firmly accept that from time to time were going to make runway arrivals of the sort to make cement contractors rub their hands in financial glee, we are going to be less likely to try to force the airplane onto the ground due to embarrassment after we have bounced telephone pole high, and more likely to think rationally about the attitude, speed and altitude of the airplane and proceed to coolly evaluate whether to try to salvage the landing or go around.

From the time in the late 1940s, when my father hired a small plane to take my brother and me for a ride around our home in northeastern Ohio, I wanted to learn how to fly. About 50 years later, I finally had the time and money and started training for the private certificate: A flight school, with excellent instructors and two long runways was only a few minutes away from my home. Things went well for several months as I learned basic maneuvers aloft and attended ground school in the form of John and Martha Kings interactive DVDs. As a former math teacher, I easily understood weight and balance calculations. Navigation using VOR radials was particularly interesting. An early case of “mic fright” gave way to comfortable conversations with controllers at the Class D airport and with other pilots at non-towered facilities.

A technician submitted discrepancy reports for the same problem in six different aircraft undergoing annual inspection. Aircraft included an F33A Bonanza, V35B Bonanza, A36 Bonanza, a Model 55 Baron and two B95 Travel Airs. Of these six aircraft, total times ranged from 3144.9 to 5255.1 hours. The FAA noted, “This is awfully good anecdotal evidence arguing for close attention to these actuation attach points after a couple thousand hours.”

The year 1979 was the last big year of aircraft shipments. Almost 18,000 were sold that year. About 3,000 of those airplanes were piston twins. Today, any single that sells 534 units a year is red hot. In 1979, that’s how many Seneca twins Piper sold. If the piston single business looks lethargic when compared […]

A pilot reported total loss of elevator control on final approach. Investigation revealed the rear control stick was no longer connected to the elevator push rod. The aft belly pan was removed and a loose bolt and washer were found. The nut was not found. The other rod ends were inspected for safety; the self-locking nut and bolt for the aft interconnect push rod was very loose. The existing hardware was not reinstalled because it was found loose during the inspection. New hardware was installed for each noted discrepancy. The owner was advised to have a factory service center inspect the aircraft, and make repairs according to the maintenance manual and parts book.

I recently read an online comment from a wizened aviator to the effect that weather, by itself, has rarely if ever been responsible for an aviation accident. On the other hand, failure of the airplanes crew to correctly fly the airplane in that weather will mean a bad day for everyone aboard just about every time. Since the airplane is an inanimate object capable only of responding within its limitations to what its crew commands, the comment is exactly on-target. One of our challenges as pilots is to bring the required judgment, skill and experience along in the airplane. Of course, the average general aviation airplane is a marvel of reliability and capability. Even when considering an older design, the advances in technology since its introduction make trivial the task of equipping it with the latest in automated systems, allowing its crew to benefit from detailed information and situational awareness only dreamed of a generation ago.