How to Wash an Airplane

AuntPeggy

AuntPeggy

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Hubby wrote up a weekend report.

How to Wash an Airplane
10 June 2012

Ragged chunks of milky blue sky punctuated a field of hazy brooding cumulus. Trees stood mutely without any leaf-rustling breeze and their deep shadows gradually lightened without boundary into the street. Barely June, the air already had the sweet, damp smell of late New York summer. By 9:00 I was not uncomfortably warm but looking forward to washing our airplane in cool water.

We were not in a hurry to load buckets, brushes and cleaners into the car; this was a lazy day. Peggy called ahead so we were assured of hangar space and then we headed into tolerable traffic on I-95. With one eye on the road and the other on the sky Peggy hoped for a higher ceiling to practice slow flight after the wash. The National Weather Service forecast improving weather throughout the day but the Weather Channel warned of a few thunderstorms in the afternoon.

Finally arriving at the airport I checked the weather computer while the Line Guys dragged a dirty airplane into the hangar. Ceilings around 5,000 feet for the rest of the day, it told me. A student pilot returned from a solo cross country reporting ceilings around 3,000 feet. "It's only bumpy when you get close to the clouds," he volunteered.

Sun-hatted Roger was out at the "swamp," our shared tiedown area, battling weeds poking inexorably from subduction zones between shifting plates of World War II concrete. His partner was feeling around his airplane looking for an excuse not to fly and not finding one.

--Continued next post
 
While we washed our airplane we stopped occasionally to watch a landing or takeoff. On their way to touch-and-goes Roger and his partner taxied past humming a staccato 4-cylinder tune. Kevin and Jon sauntered across the ramp for a flight to Block Island for lunch. Others came and went and we exchanged greetings as brothers of a shared passion. Jose and Felix volunteered their help and soon we had a clean machine.

Felix had unexpectedly saved up another hour of flying and asked for an impromptu lesson. "I don't have a lesson prepared," I complained. "I just want to get in the air," he countered. "But look at the way I'm dressed, I came to wash an airplane, not give a lesson." He didn't seem to care what I looked like and we were soon in the briefing room going over the weather. We decided to stay in the pattern and just do landing practice as we would be limited to 2,500 feet for maneuvers. 3,000 is my minimum for students and there were clouds in the way. He got an introduction to cross wind landings and did well. He thinks he is happier than I am but he is wrong.

I noticed a time dilation for the first time. Felix flew everything in slow motion and I was able to predict outcomes much faster than usual. When he touched down a bit fast and bounced, I was able to tell him to add 100 RPM of power to fix it without punching the throttle myself. I demonstrated one cross-wind landing and called out "left-wheel, right wheel, nose wheel" as they met pavement; something I've not done before. I have never felt so -- what's the word? comfortable, in control, situated -- nothing seems to fit. I can remember as a student, my CFI was god-like. As late as my commercial check-ride, my DPE was masterful. Every flight is a chance to be better and the really good pilots I know will never be good enough. Starting flight so late in life, I'm doomed; I'll never attain 10,000 flight hours; I'll never transport 200 people to Sao Paulo; I'll never get the experience that the true masters have. But I can still dream. And on a quiet summer day hanging out at the airport with friends and airplanes, anything seems possible.

While Felix and I were out, Peggy met a couple waiting in the pilot's lounge, Jennifer and Sonny. It was his birthday and he was waiting for the pilot of the local aerobatic joy-ride to show up. But due to a "communications error," after four hours of patience, they found the ride was off. Peggy consoled them by promising an airplane ride when I got back.

They are very nice people and their excitement over getting an airplane ride seem to have overcome the disappointment of not pulling 4Gs or flying upside-down. "I apologize for my unprofessional appearance," I plead, "but I wasn't expecting to work today." They were amused. Peggy had already explained that I am an instructor so we sat and talked about what they wanted to do. They, of course, were not expecting a flying lesson, so I guess we were even.

From a room full of pilots offering exotic destinations we decided on Barnes (Westfield, MA). After a quick weight and balance and a call to Flight Service promising continued good weather and a head wind both ways we congregated at the airplane for perfunctory pictures.

-- Continued next post
 
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Peggy and I got them strapped in and as comfortable as they were likely to be in their excitement. I went through the checklist pointing and naming bits of switch, gauge and knob, describing their function and desired state. Sonny turned the key to start the mighty Lycoming and after establishing the yellow line, let him taxi to the runway. He did not want to take off so I had him follow on the controls as we slipped the "surly bonds" and floated gracefully into a left downwind departure. Humidity and cloud faded the horizon to a distinct brownish blur but the air was perfectly smooth and our newly-cleaned airplane slid effortlessly into the ether.

Sonny discovered the horizon and flew us to Barnes keeping remarkably level, practicing some turns, climbs and descents and navigation by visual waypoints. He has good hand-eye coordination and did not try to over-control the airplane. I had him follow on the controls for the landing and he taxied in to the ramp.

They had been told not to eat before aerobatic flight and by now were well into missed-meal deprivation. The restaurant was a welcome sight and we were soon dipping a very tender calamari into marinara. Dinner was pleasant but there was a noticeable energy to get back out to the airplane. So we did.

Once again we helped insert, adjust, strap, buckle and plug in a new pilot. Jennifer would fly back to Bridgeport. As before, I went through the checklist and she started the engine "just like a car." She also did well taxiing down to the runway and followed me on the controls for the takeoff. During cruise she banked tentatively, exploring the mysteries of turning an airplane and as her confidence built she became more aggressive. By the time we got to Robertson she was banking nicely into 360 degree right and left turns. When she noticed the altimeter we began the typical Pilot Induced Oscillations from chasing the needle. It brought back fond memories of my first couple of flying lessons. When she went back to the outside horizon, PIO ceased.

We had some excitement on the approach to Bridgeport. Tower wanted to sandwich us between two landing jets with "direct to the numbers, keep your speed up." It would have been fun for Peggy and me but I didn't want to subject our passengers to anything that might be unsettling. The first jet landed, taking the entire runway and was turning for back-taxi. I considered wake turbulence, the possibility of landing long due to speed, plus a low-level turn over the threshold. So we took the scenic tour at 500 feet while I explained that a go-around is a wonderful way to make landings work better. Jennifer followed on the controls for the landing and taxied back to parking.

Patiently Sonny and Jennifer waited while we tied down, unpacked, and wrapped the airplane. Back in the office we debriefed until Jose kicked us out at closing time. I suspect they were still smiling when they got home. They probably think they are happier than we are but they are wrong.

No matter how well you plan, life tends toward random and you never really know what's around the next corner. Thunderstorms didn't materialize; Peggy never got to her slow flight practice; I didn't get yard-work done. But we have been so fortunate: in discovering each other, in finding a common passion for flying and in consistently meeting wonderful, interesting people. Of all the thousands of days we have lived, this one will have a feel, a color, a taste, just a bit better than usual and be remembered. All we really wanted was a clean airplane.
 
deltafox said:
Ahhhh, a feel good story. Thanks! With all of the problems facing aviation we sometimes forget, or at least don't talk about the real joy associated with being a GA flyer. Compare your story with this one:

http://www.ainonline.com/aviation-news/blogs/ain-blog-what-way-celebrate-anniversary

"At that moment I gained insight as to why no one is going into flight training anymore."
Click to expand...
He could probably do that experiment at 100 other airports and get probably the same or find "no one around" in 90% of small airports. There are a couple I could go to in my area and say "I want to learn how to fly" and get an appointment but at the one I fly out of I'd walk out with a phone number and a little brochure.
 
picture.php
 
Well, that made me smile! Thank you for posting it. Will hubby be sending it to any of the aviation mags for publication?
 
If you care to come wash my filthy dirty airplane you can write a nice story about it too.
 
Somehow a day spent kicking around an airport and airplane people is time well spent...except, it seemed, when I was an impoverished instructor and couldn't seem to make two nickles, for a whole day at the airport. The part of your narrative that makes me most envious though, is the sharing of airplane flying with enthusiastic folks who have never touched the flight controls - and witnessing their reaction to the magic I've known for most of my life.

I've had the pleasure of taking many people on their very first aerobatic airplane ride. And even the most brazen, adventurous person would display - some - apprehension while strapping on the parachute and buckling in the Super Decathlon or Great Lakes biplane. I'd just explain to them that we'd start out real easy, with some gentle rolls, and if they liked that, maybe a barrel roll or a loop or hammerhead. And that it's supposed to be FUN, not frightening, or worse, nauseating. Fun times.
 
This is a wonderful story and reminds me of my most recent trips to various airports. Every single time I fly, whether PIC or not, it seems "better" than the last time.

And I agree with this post, everything seems "random" at times, and the more I am OK with things "just happening" rather than planning them out the better life gets.

Recent examples of this story in my life:

1. I ended up in a Pilatus hangar one night after an airplane meeting.

2. I ended up taking a woman for a flight at my airport and she switched to my school / my instructor for her IFR training.

3. I called a friend, he was in his hangar, I took him up for what was supposed to be solo time in my 150. Just one trip around the pattern but he makes flying super fun.

You get the idea.

I plan to spend the entire day (the day of the flour bombing) at my airport in a few weekends. My BF will be out of town and this will be my first true "all day hanging out" at my home field. I have no plans at all, other than wandering around and seeing my friends (and of course taking up my "bomber" in my 172 at 4pm). We will see what else the day brings!
 
deltafox said:
Ahhhh, a feel good story. Thanks! With all of the problems facing aviation we sometimes forget, or at least don't talk about the real joy associated with being a GA flyer. Compare your story with this one:

http://www.ainonline.com/aviation-news/blogs/ain-blog-what-way-celebrate-anniversary

"At that moment I gained insight as to why no one is going into flight training anymore."
Click to expand...
We really nearly always have a good time at the airport. Even when we don't fly, there are friends to shoot the breeze with.
 
Jeanie said:
Well, that made me smile! Thank you for posting it. Will hubby be sending it to any of the aviation mags for publication?
Click to expand...
I keep suggesting it, but he is too shy/humble/silly. Turns out I'm his only publisher.
 
steingar said:
If you care to come wash my filthy dirty airplane you can write a nice story about it too.
Click to expand...
OK. :goofy: Of course, you realize that by the end of the day, the plane needed to be washed again.
 
j1b3h0 said:
Somehow a day spent kicking around an airport and airplane people is time well spent...except, it seemed, when I was an impoverished instructor and couldn't seem to make two nickles, for a whole day at the airport. The part of your narrative that makes me most envious though, is the sharing of airplane flying with enthusiastic folks who have never touched the flight controls - and witnessing their reaction to the magic I've known for most of my life.

I've had the pleasure of taking many people on their very first aerobatic airplane ride. And even the most brazen, adventurous person would display - some - apprehension while strapping on the parachute and buckling in the Super Decathlon or Great Lakes biplane. I'd just explain to them that we'd start out real easy, with some gentle rolls, and if they liked that, maybe a barrel roll or a loop or hammerhead. And that it's supposed to be FUN, not frightening, or worse, nauseating. Fun times.
Click to expand...
Ooh. We have not partaken of that particular fruit yet. Someday, though.
 
kimberlyanne546 said:
This is a wonderful story and reminds me of my most recent trips to various airports. Every single time I fly, whether PIC or not, it seems "better" than the last time.

And I agree with this post, everything seems "random" at times, and the more I am OK with things "just happening" rather than planning them out the better life gets.

Recent examples of this story in my life:

1. I ended up in a Pilatus hangar one night after an airplane meeting.

2. I ended up taking a woman for a flight at my airport and she switched to my school / my instructor for her IFR training.

3. I called a friend, he was in his hangar, I took him up for what was supposed to be solo time in my 150. Just one trip around the pattern but he makes flying super fun.

You get the idea.

I plan to spend the entire day (the day of the flour bombing) at my airport in a few weekends. My BF will be out of town and this will be my first true "all day hanging out" at my home field. I have no plans at all, other than wandering around and seeing my friends (and of course taking up my "bomber" in my 172 at 4pm). We will see what else the day brings!
Click to expand...
Well, you spent a pretty long day at KLOM where we finally met. Isn't it great to have so much family/friends everywhere you go!
 
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