Think it’s expensive to fill up your car?  According to AirNav, aviation fuel is now running as high as $6.79 a gallon.

Yes, you read that right.  We’re pushing seven dollars per gallon.

Anyone want to take a guess about how high it will go?  Eight dollars?  Ten?  Assuming a fuel flow of 30 gallons per hour on takeoff, an SR22 would be burning nearly $300 an hour just in gas.  Filling up an 80 gallon tank would cost $800.

I’d love to open an FBO just so I could take pride in having the most expensive fuel on the planet.  And you know what?  People would still line up to buy it.  I don’t see any of these FBOs suffering.

Good times, my friends.  Very good times.

I recently returned from Duluth, MN, where I had the pleasure of picking up a brand new Cirrus SR22 from the factory.  The experience left me feeling that we’re becoming a bit too complacent about the miracle of glass avionics. 

During the obligatory tour of the Cirrus plant, I was surprised to learn that starting with the 2006 models, they no longer manufacture airplanes with any analog engine instruments whatsoever.  Instead, they make critical engine data (RPM, MP, oil pressure and temperature) available on both displays.  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.  After all, the Garmin G1000 – general aviation’s first and thus far only true purpose-built all-glass avionics suite — has had fully digital engine gauges since day one.

Nevertheless, I question the wisdom of this approach.  On the return flight, we were in solid IMC west of Pierre, South Dakota.  Suddenly all the engine gauges stopped displaying data.  The displays were still there, but no data appeared.  Here’s what we lost:  RPM, manifold pressure, pressures and temperatures, CHTs, EGTs, power output, fuel flow, and fuel totalizer.

Was this a concern?  Sure, but not nearly as much as it would have been if the analog gauges hadn’t been available.  A call to Cirrus revealed that some moisture had probably gotten into one of the processors.  As soon as it dried out, everything came back online.  To it’s credit, the Avidyne primary flight display did annunicate the loss of the engine data processor at the time of the failure.

John over at Freight Dog Tales writes about discovering a G1000 failure mode the hard way:  by having a student relate it to you on the phone after experiencing it first hand.

The autopilot was flying the plane and the PIC was flipping through some approach plates when both the primary flight display (PFD) and mulit-function display (MFD) went black.

The intercom, radios and autopilot continued to function, but the pilots had no navigational display, no way to change radio frequencies, no engine instruments, no indications of the health of the electrical system, and only the back-up steam gauge instruments with which to control the plane. Luckily they were in VFR conditions and were already talking to approach control, who helped them land at a nearby airport to sort things out.

The cause of the blackout and the solution turned out to be both simple and unexpected. Something of which I was not aware, nor were several other pilots and instructors who were consulted on this, is that Cessna still has an avionics dimmer knob and, here’s the kicker, it will override the G1000 screen brightness settings when it is adjusted to any setting other that off. 

I experienced this while doing a ground training session in a G1000 equipped DiamondStar hooked up to an external Ground Power Unit.  I couldn’t figure out why the screens wouldn’t come up after plugging in the GPU.  Eventually I figured out that the dimmers had been turned on and were set to the dimmest setting.  The DA40 is nice in that the rheostat seems to be very beefy, and when the dimmer is “off”, it clicks into place quite solidly in such a way that it would be hard to accidentally bump it out of position.

Cessna SE rheostats have a bad reputation, but the new ones they’ve put into the glass panel planes are different.  They seem quite solid.  In fact, all the knobs and switches appear to be Citation jet-quality hardware.

But yes, that’s definitely a single point failure.  All the more reason to carry a Garmin 396 or other capable handheld GPS.  With that and the standby flight instruments, you could still keep the plane upright and navigate.  You’d either have to talk on the current frequency, or hold down the flip-flip button long enough to set it to 121.5.

I don’t think this is all that uncommon.  I’ve recently read about Airbus aircraft having problems with displays disappearing in flight.  I predict we’re going to hear a lot more about this scenario as analog gauges fall by the wayside.

After the factory tour, I have even greater confidence in the strength and engineering quality of the Cirrus airframe, but my misgivings about the increasing reliance on computer displays remain.

Side note: the good folks at Cirrus were busy expanding their factory.  Current production is 5 airplanes on Monday, 5 on Tuesday, 5 on Wednesday, and 4 on Thursday. The plant uses Friday to perform maintenance and catch up on any backlogs. 

They’re also busy building a new airplane:  a single engine jet that looks an awful lot like the SR20/22.  The prototype is under construction and the first flight is scheduled to take place in the fall.

Dan writes about fuel economy experiments in his RV-7.

It’s interesting that he managed to get 35.4 statute miles per gallon out of his airplane.  With a slight headwind, no less.

I’ve never seen more than about 20 mpg out of a Cirrus, even with a tailwind.  That’s on par with far draggier airplanes like the strut-braced Skylane.

For such a slick airplane, that’s surprising.  But perhaps it shouldn’t be.  After all, Dan’s RV-7 is extremely light.  The Cirrus aircraft are quite heavy, up to 3400 lbs on departure.  So even with 50% more horsepower, the Cirrus still comes up short on a hp-to-weight ratio.

Dan’s experiments and my observations with the Cirrus just reaffirm my belief that drag reduction only gets you so far.  If the airplane is heavy, it won’t matter how much aerodynamic improvement you make, it’ll never reach a respectable level of fuel efficiency.  So if $6.00/gal. fuel prices are a concern, the moral is clear:  keep it light.

With four million people living in Orange County, there are undoubtedly quite a few folks who make the drive from Santa Ana to Carlsbad on a daily basis.

I’m not sure how long it takes.  Traffic being what it is, anywhere between 90 minutes and two hours seems like a reasonable estimate. Figure three to four hours for the round trip in a car.

I feel sorry for those folks.  I traveled that route yesterday in a Cirrus SR22 in 27 minutes on a training flight with a student:

In fact, the round trip from John Wayne Airport to Carlsbad and back — under IFR, no less – was only about an hour.  And that included time for:

• startup
• taxi
• runup
• a five minute hold for IFR release
• takeoff and climb
• vectoring across V23 for traffic
• vectoring from Oceanside VOR way past the final approach fix
• shooting the ILS 24 approach in IMC
• landing
• taxiing back to the runway
• picking up a new IFR clearance
• another hold for IFR release
• taking off again
• flying back to SNA via V23
• the ILS 19R approach into John Wayne in IMC

The Cirrus is so fast that controllers on both ends underestimated how much airspace we’d consume on the base-to-final turn to intercept the final approach course (you can see that in the flight track graphic above — we initially flew through the localizer).  The coastal stratus kept the VFR aircraft on the ground, so we had the run of the place.

What a flight.  The air was smooth, the clearances were easy to get, and the flying on top was in beautiful sunshine.  My student was adept enough at operating the aircraft and avionics that we were able to turn on the XM satellite radio system and enjoy a few minutes of respite during the enroute segment.

I could get used to this.

Forget that sport pilot stuff.  If I ever lose my medical, I’m building one of these:

Even Bubb Rubb wouldn’t be able to handle this thing.  According to the builder:

This is a street-legal jet car.  The car has two engines: the production gasoline engine in the front driving the front wheels and the jet engine in the back.  The idea is that you drive around legally on the gasoline engine and when you want to have some fun, you spin up the jet and get on the burner (you can start the jet while driving along on the gasoline engine).

Apparently, the car is licensed here in California.

In California, new cars have bi-annual smog inspections so if you modify the engine, it is likely to fail the inspection and you won’t be able to drive it on the street.  There are some exempt engine modifications (ex. after-cat mufflers - big deal) but none that will allow you to add 1350 hp to a new car.

Kerosene is stored in a custom 14 gallon, baffled, foam-filled kevlar fuel cell in the spare tire well.  Two fuel exits in the back: a -12 on the left side and a -10 on the right.  The -10 goes to a shutoff, then a Barry Grant pump (one of the few hot rod parts on the car), then up into the car where it sees a filter, a regulator, and an electrical shutoff valve before feeding the engine.  The -12 goes into a shutoff, then a 1.5 hp, 11,000 rpm, 24V custom electric pump.   Pump is magnesium and can maintain 100 psi at 550 gph.  From the pump it goes into the car to a filter, then a large regulator, and then to the afterburner solenoid and the big-fire solenoid (to left of pump and feeding bottom of tailpipe through orange covered hose).  Fuel system was tested for flow capability.

The engine is a General Electric Model T58-8F.  This is a helicopter turboshaft engine that was converted to a jet by some internal modifications and a custom tailpipe.  The engine spins up to 26,000 RPM (idle is 13,000 RPM), draws air at 11,000 CFM, and is rated at 1350 hp.  It weighs only 300 lbs.  It grows as it warms up so the engine mounts have to account for this.  The mounts in the front are rubber and the back are sliding mounts on rubber.  The structure holding the engine was designed using finite element analysis and is redundant.  Strong, damage tolerant, and light.  Second battery and fuse/relay panel on the right, halon fire system and 5 gallon dry sump tank on left.  24V starter motor is in the nose of the engine.  700 A of current goes into that motor for 20 seconds during start-up.  Due to heat, must limit starts to three in one hour.  Big screen is to avoid FOD (foreign object damage).

My favorite part?  “The jet keeps sucking the rose out of the bud vase on the dash!”

A Quicktime video is available here.

Another nail in the coffin of Southern California’s once rich aviation community.  A friend writes about the end of the line — literally — at Long Beach: 

I witnessed the final death blow this morning as the last MD-717 lifted off and departed for delivery to the customer, TransAir. Unless a miracle occurs it will be the last jet airliner ever built in Long Beach.

All of the old Douglas buildings have been bull dozed and the property is being developed by the Boeing realty company into an industrial park, complete with 1500 high density housing units. Yep, right next to [runway] 25R on the Long Beach airport. Is it any wonder the management of Boeing/MD ran the company into the ground?

There were many speeches by VP’s, most of which talked about how great we used to be and what great airplanes we used to build. A very sad thing to see. I feel very empty inside.

It’s a shame. The economics of the airline industry may have dictated an end to the 717 production line, but by putting homes on the airport, Boeing shows an amazing lack of respect for its own history.  Future generations will not only grow up unaware of the 63 years of continuous aircraft production, but in another half century they may not even know that there used to be an airport in Long Beach.

I spent the weekend up in Susanville with some friends.  We departed out of Oxnard Airport on Friday and apparently made the front page of the newspaper as we did so:

That’s our Skylane in the background.  According to the newspaper article, the Warrior in the foreground had experienced an engine failure after takeoff and the pilot elected to return to the airport.  Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough altitude to make it all the way back.  The aircraft touched down in a field west of the runway and collided with an SUV as it crossed a public road.

Considering the open farm fields that litter the west end of OXR’s runway, attempting to turn around may not have been the best option.  On the other hand, I give the pilot credit for resisting the temptation — which must have been strong, considering how close he was to the runway — to stretch the glide, which could well have ended in a stall/spin situation.  He flew the Warrior all the way to the ground, and in doing so preserved his life.  He’s got some injuries, but nobody was killed.

The Ventura County Star has a slide show of the Warrior.

What can we learn from this accident?  First, determine your turn-around altitude before you takeoff, not after.  Second, have alternative landing sites picked out in advance.  And third, even a lowly GA single has a remarkable level of survivability if you just keep it flying all the way to the ground.