From: prang@ssc-vax.boeing.com (Ron Wanttaja)
Newsgroups: rec.aviation
Subject: The Bad BFR
Date: 27 Jul 92 05:06:33 GMT
Organization: Boeing Defense and Space Group, Seattle WA


Considering my usual stance about the FAA, It may come a suprise for a
number of people to learn that I *like* Biennial Flight Reviews.

Why?  To start with, recall that I fly a single-seat airplane.  I can
develop real sloppy habits, and never notice.  With a multiple-seat
airplane, you try to put on a good show for the passengers, especially if
they're fellow pilots.  But with a single-seater, there's a tendency to
just do what's necessary to get to where you want to go. 

The other reason, of course, is that I always fly the same single-seat
airplane.  It's nice to fly something new... even when the rental cost is
ten times the Fly Baby's $5 per hour rate.  Plus instructor.

So I look forward to 'em.  I look forward to the novelty of a new aircraft.
I look forward to basic drills; slow flight, turns around a point, stalls
in any attitude.  I look forward to dragging myself out of the airplane
exhausted, with my back drenched in sweat.  With the rough edges of my
piloting skill knocked off.

I even look forward to a good discussion of the FARs.  While I detest the
ARSA/TRSA mentality, there's still a lot of good stuff in Part 91.  I buy a
new copy of the FARs the month before my BFR and study up.  It's nice to 
get the cobwebs knocked off.

I've counted one or two really good BFRs in my flying life.  The best was 
given by an old friend of mine ten years ago.  He was vicious... but the
best pilot and best instructor I've ever met.  No +/- 100 feet in altitude
for him... you're either ON the altitude or heading back to it.  Similarly,
my instructor two years ago was good.  She drilled me well in the
regulations, and gave a lot of good advice during the flight portion.

Last Friday's BFR wasn't as good.

It had boded to be well.  I'd noticed the Decathlon kept in the hangar next
to the Fly Baby, and was surprised that it was available through the newish
FBO on field.  As I'd wanted a checkout in a two-seat taildragger (to take
friends and visiting netters for rides :-)) I wandered over to the FBO to
check out prices.  Hot damn... it rented for the same as a 172.  I talked
to the FBO's Chief Pilot, who was their Decathlon instructor and apparently the
FBO's owner.  I mentioned my situation... took my Private in a Citabria,
been flying the 'Baby, but didn't have any CS prop time.  I asked if he'd
give me a BFR in the Decathlon, and he allowed how it wouldn't be a
problem.

I arrived a bit early for the appointment, and was handed the aircraft
owner's manual and the standard FBO questionaire.  I finished digging out
the performance and other specs about the time the instructor walked in.
I was all ready to learn about constant speed prop operation, and was
curious about some of the systems diagrams.

The instructor said, "All done?  Let's go fly," and walked back out the
door.

All right, I thought.  I guess he'll discuss the systems on the rather
longish walk out to the airplane.

He kept a grumpy silence all the way out.  "What can you tell me about how
the Decathlon flies?" I asked. 

"Stalls sharp.  Sinks fast with power off."  He started to untie the 
airplane without another word.  "Uhhhh.... I'll preflight," I said.  I did so.

"Anything I should know about the plane?"

"Nahhh... let's go."

My only introduction to the CS prop came during the pretakeoff check.  
"Cycle the prop a couple of times.  When we fly, keep the RPM around 2500, 
but don't let the manifold pressure get higher than the RPM".

We lauched without incident and headed to the practice area.  "Do a steep
360 degree turn to the left, then one to the right."  I complied.  "Straight
-ahead stall."  "Stall out of a left turn."

As we slowed, I spotted a Cessna at our altitude.  I whipped the wings
level and said, "Traffic."  He went by.  I started to turn and slow again,
then saw the Cessna was turning around us.  I aborted the maneuver.  "He'd
still there."

"Never mind.  Head to the east and drop to 1200 feet.  We'll do S-turns
around the road over there."

"1200 feet?  Isn't that a bit low in that area?"

"Nahhh... ground level's 500 MSL."

I knew that was true where we were... but also knew the ground sloped
upward to the east.  I mentally shrugged and assumed he knew the area.  I
dropped to 1200 and headed for thhe road.

[I checked the chart afterwards.  There was a small private field right
about the start of the road... 630 ft.  At the end of the road, four miles
down, the ground level rose to 750 ft.  So we were legal... barely.  But I
would have rathered a little extra buffer.] 

I made my first turn toward the road, and a blue and yellow blur flashed by
just below to our right, nearly head-on.  I jerked the wings level.  "Didja 
see that RV-3?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

Two things went through my mind at that moment.  Ten years ago, there'd
been a midair just a few miles north of where we were.  The two planes had
first nearly collided... and then HAD collided when they'd both turned back
to "see who that other jerk was."

Second... I knew that RV-3.  Not the owner, personally.  But he was famous
for dogfighting other RVs over the local RV owner's annual picnic.

I restarted my S-turn, keeping a wary eye backward.  A mile away, I saw the
RV sillouetted against the western sky.  A *top* view.  He was in a hard
right turn.

"He's coming back," I said.  "He's either pissed or he wants to play."  By
this time I'd made my 180 degree turn.  The RV was closing at our 10
O'clock.  "I'm aborting the S-turns".  The bogey flashed by our left side.

"Let's head back home and do some landings," said the imperturable voice in
the intercom.  We did so.  On the way, I saw the RV do a victory roll a
mile out.  At an altitude of about 700 AGL....

We entered the pattern back home.  "Gimme a three-point landing," the
instructor said.  I pulled power and went to fine pitch
abeam the numbers.  The airspeed started to drop towards the 75 MPH
approach speed.

The stall horn sounded at 90.  I eased the nose down until it stopped. 
We turned final at the usual point and altitude for the Fly Baby.  "Sinks
fast," the instructor had said.

I aimed at the runway... but couldn't slow the plane down to a decent
approach without the stall warner going off.  We shot across the threshold
at ninety.  I touched one wheel to the asphalt and we bounced.  "Going
around," I said and poured on the power.  "Why was the stall horn going off
at such a high speed?"

"That's not the stall horn... that's just a fairing vibrating."

Oh.  Next time around, I slowed it to 75.  We came over the threshold at a
more normal speed, but a little high.  I put it in a three-point attidue
and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Obviously, it wasn't QUITE as draggy
as the Fly Baby.  To my mortification, we finally landed about halfway down
the strip.

"Make the next one a wheel landing, and full stop."

I cut the power earlier.  I turned base later.  We STILL came in a bit
high.

Fly Baby reflexes took over.  I kicked the Decathlon into a slip.  But it
didn't slip quite as well as the 'Baby.

And at that point, the Man in Back gave his first editorial comment about
my flying:  "You'd better land gentle," he growled.    

He didn't say much on the taxi back.  (The landing?  Smooth as pudding, of
course.)  Nor on the hike back to the office.  We went in the door, he
picked up a rubber stamp.  "Give me your logbook."  He stamped, he wrote,
handed it back, and turned to the guy behind the counter.  "Set him up on
the computer for the FARs."

In a few minutes, I was trying to answer the computer's version of what a
BFR takee should know about the FARs... for instance, five out of the 
fifty questions had to do with towplane operations.

In between the ERROR beeps of the computer, I had a chance to think about
my BFR and Decathlon checkout.  One and a half stalls.  Two landings.
Three quarters of an S-turn.  One quasi-dogfight.  Nothing on the whys and
wherefores of the regs, just a wheezing AT-clone with a fixation on exact
wording and spelling.  I didn't feel especially taxed; I certainly didn't
feel sufficiently confident in the Decathlon.

Yep, I should have insisted.  I should have sat the guy down and extracted
a full systems and FARs discussion.  But I don't think he wanted to take
the time.  It was his operation, his airplane, his call.

At least I'd had my BFR signed off.  I opened the logbook to examine the
signoff.  "... has satisfactorily completed a flight review required by FAR
61.57 on 07/24/92"

And underneath it was signed:

"Joe Smith  CFII XXXXX  Expires 1-92"
			^^^^^^^^^^^^

Any Net-CFIs want to give a BFR to a masochistic Fly Baby driver?

                                          Ron Wanttaja
					  prang@ssc-bee
					  ...rutgers!uw-beaver!ssc-bee!prang
                                          prang@ssc-bee.boeing.com