VINTAGE INSTRUCTOR
THE
BY DOUG STEWART
“Does that seem weird to you?” In last month’s article, I commented on the crash of Comair Flight 5191 at the Lexington, Kentucky, Blue Grass Airport, on August 27, 2006. I discussed a couple of things that we could learn from this accident, and showed how to apply those things to the flying we do in our vintage aircraft. But there are some things to discuss other than completing a “HAT” check (or similar check) prior to takeoff and maintaining a “sterile cockpit” when in an airport environment—things that can hopefully lead to our being safer pilots. In the transcripts and tapes released by the NTSB in its investigation of the crash, which killed 49 of the 50 people onboard, the cockpit voice recorder showed that the copilot, James Polehinke, who was the lone survivor, noted that the runway lights were off as the jet sped down the wrong runway. “That is weird with no lights,” he said, and Capt. Jeffrey Clay responded, “yeah.” Seconds later, Clay said “whoa,” and then the impact was heard. I couldn’t help but wonder as I read the transcripts what the two pilots were thinking as they continued their takeoff roll. Didn’t the fact that things were “weird” make them think about aborting the takeoff? I know from my observations of pilots over the years that for some it’s as if there were sirens singing their alluring song from the sky tempting them to go flying. I know that I have written before of the “kick the tires, light the fires” kind of pilot who rushes through a preflight inspection and engine run-up and gets into trouble shortly thereafter. In fact, I actually once flew with a pilot who announced, “scan the glass and grab your assumptions” (well, actually the last word of the
phrase was a little abbreviated) as we transitioned from taxi to takeoff with nary a pre-takeoff check. It was only a short time later that oil started to cover the windshield of the Cessna 175 Skylark we were flying as it leaked from the propeller gearbox. I am confident that had we taken the time to conduct an engine ground check prior to our takeoff, we might very well have noticed that there were problems lurking. Too often pilots launch into the air even though there are obvious indications that they will encounter problems. For instance, the pilot who finds his engine running rough and backfiring during the runup may think, “Oh, it’s probably a fouled plug” and try to “burn” it clean by adding power and aggressively leaning. Even when that fails to yield a smooth-running engine, with rpm drops within acceptable limits, he will still take off thinking that once he’s airborne he’ll be able to “clean it out.” The only problem is, what’s causing the backfiring and engine roughness is not a fouled spark plug but a plugged injector, and now he’s forced to suck up his seat with a major pucker factor as he limps around the pattern (if he’s lucky enough to be able to) and tries to land without parking his airplane in the weeds. I think we are all familiar with the saying “It’s much better to be down here, wishing we were up there, than up there, wishing we were down here,” yet too often I see pilots setting themselves up for just that scenario. They take off without ever checking that they have oil pressure and that the airspeed indicator is alive. More than once I have had to coach a pilot back to the ground when shortly after departure he announces over the UNICOM that his
. . . I expect to hear them call out “we have oil pressure— airspeed alive” prior to rotation.
26 APRIL 2007
airspeed indicator isn’t working. As he taxis in I usually see the pitot cover hanging from the pitot tube. Not only did he miss seeing that the cover was still in place as he conducted his preflight inspection, he also never noticed that his airspeed indicator wasn’t working on the takeoff roll. If he had noticed an inoperative AI I would like to think that he would have aborted the takeoff. But as I said before, the lure of the sky and the mentality of “we’re going flying” takes over and, whether the anomaly is noticed or not, the pilot continues the takeoff roll. A favorite training scenario that I use when working with clients on my PC-based simulator is to “fail” the oil pressure prior to takeoff. We’ll be taking off into a 200foot overcast ceiling, with the tops well above 10,000 feet. Very, very few of my clients notice that they have no oil pressure as they start their takeoff roll. And yet not once has a client aborted the takeoff, even if he did notice the lack of oil pressure. Needless to say, the engine seizes prior to reaching our assigned altitude. This scenario has yet to fail to teach the necessity of making sure all is well before launching into the air. All of my clients know that I expect to hear them call out “we have oil pressure—airspeed alive” prior to rotation, or the takeoff is aborted. They also know that I fully expect them to really check the gauges and not just make the call out robotically. Last year a friend of mine noticed that his airplane was not climbing out of the pattern as well as it normally did. At first he attributed it to the higher-than-normal density altitude. But then he checked his oil pressure gauge and saw the needle sitting on zero. A quick turn back to the airport got him there before his engine seized. An oil line had come loose, as evidenced by a puddle of oil where he had conducted his run-up. But though he had gone through the motions of an engine ground check, and had made the call “oil pressure—okay,” he had never really checked the gauge until realizing his problem once airborne. Being diligent in our preflight inspections and engine ground checks is essential to our safety, but be aware that anything that happens outside the realm of the expected should be considered as cause to abort the takeoff. I remember once when I was preparing to depart Islip, Long Island, with two clients on one of my instrumenttraining trips. It was raining quite heavily and the ceilings were hovering around 300 feet, with the winds relatively light. As a Southwest 737 landed in front of us we were given a position and hold clearance. Once the 737 cleared the runway we were cleared for takeoff. My client flying from the left seat applied takeoff power and soon after called out the requisite oil and airspeed mantra. But prior to rotation all three of us smelled the unmistakable odor of burning rubber. Without a second’s hesitation my client pulled the throttle to idle, aborting the takeoff. We announced to the tower that we were aborting the takeoff as we smelled smoke in the cockpit, and cleared the runway at the next taxiway. Within what seemed
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like a few short moments there was a giant yellow firetruck rushing toward us. The smell of burning wires was no longer present in the cockpit and I rather sheepishly realized that the smell of burning rubber had come from the tires of the 737 as it touched down on the runway. Wi t h o u t a n y w i n d p r e s e n t , t h e smoke had lingered over the runway and had come into our cockpit as we accelerated for takeoff. It took about 20 minutes to complete all the paperwork that we had to fill out as a result of the firetrucks scrambling, but throughout the process I kept thinking that even though we hadn’t had a fire, what if we had been complacent, rationalizing the smell of rubber burning, and taken off into the clag? What if there had indeed been a fire and we had taken off? Finding ourselves surrounded by thick clouds and heavy rain, what would we have done? I’ll say it again. Much better to be down here, wishing I was up there, even when having to fill out reams of paperwork before a chuckling fireman, than being up there, in the wet, rain-laden clouds, wishing I was down here. Almost every one of us pilots is easy prey to the siren song of the sky. It is difficult to resist the allure of flight, especially when you are already rolling down the runway. But we need to lash ourselves to the mast of good aeronautical decision-making. Please, if things seem “weird,” consider aborting the takeoff if there is sufficient runway r e m a i n i n g . P l e a s e d o n ’t i g n o r e or rationalize away all the many indications that might be shouting at you to stay on the ground—even when there are blue skies and tail winds calling you skyward. Doug Stewart is the 2004 National C F I o f t h e Ye a r, a N A F I M a s t e r Instr uctor, and a designated pilot examiner. He operates DSFI Inc. (www. DSFlight.com) based at the Columbia County Airport (1B1) near Hudson, New York.
28 APRIL 2007