Today’s Top Pick is a 1947 Aeronca 7BCM.

I have always preferred the Aeronca Champ over its more-famous rival, the Piper J-3 Cub, because as a solo pilot you sit in the front seat instead of the rear, and as a result can actually see where you are going.

This is particularly important on the ground, where taildraggers tend to be the most challenging. I can see over the Champ’s nicely tapered nose but no such luck with the Piper.

Of course, I would never wave off either of the classic machines, especially in their military liaison versions—like this Aeronca, also known as an L-16A—which have extended greenhouses intended for observers in the back seat. Nowadays those airy glass enclosures give passengers a near-panoramic view and make the vintage-aircraft experience far more palatable for first-timers.

Early taildraggers like this Aeronca are a joy to fly on short hops for breakfast, lunch, or fly-ins at local airports. Packing one up for an overnight trip is also a fun way to spend a weekend, whether you plan to camp under the stars or retire to a cozy bed-and-breakfast.

This Aeronca 7BCM has 5,894 hours on the airframe and 329 hours since overhaul on its Continental C85 engine.

While the Aeronca is a basic, fairly bare-bones aircraft, it does have certain features that enhance its effectiveness in the backcountry, including a 7-gallon fuel tank in its wing in addition to the 15-gallon main tank, a Brackett air filter, tinted visor, front and rear side windows that open,  quick-release door hinge, hand brake, no-bounce landing gear, Aero-Classic 850×6 main tires, new exhaust, and air vents.

The VFR panel includes a digital comm radio, turn coordinator, tachometer, airspeed indicator, altimeter, oil temperature and pressure gauges, fuel gauge, and compass—everything you need.

Pilots looking for a back-to-basics tailwheel airplane with vintage appeal and extra visibility that will impress passengers should consider this 1947 Aeronca 7BCM, which is available for $39,000 on AircraftForSale.

If you’re interested in financing, you can do so with FLYING Finance. Use their airplane loan calculator to calculate your estimated monthly payments. Or, to speak with an aviation finance specialist, visit flyingfinance.com.

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The post This 1947 Aeronca 7BCM Is an Easygoing Warbird and an ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Why? Well, it’s old and has centerline drainage but, most importantly, it’s too close to a row of corporate hangars full of jets—used for both business and privately owned. I don’t know if FAA standards have changed or if they are just being enforced, but I do know that some of these “big operators” have expansion plans and there’s nowhere to go except into the runway’s safety area. The reality is, with 21R gone, accommodating traffic from three busy flight schools with a steady stream of “big iron” on a single runway is going to be a challenge…or, as one controller opined, “It sucks.”

You may have guessed by now that occasionally I don’t see things the same way as the FAA, but this edict seems exceptionally onerous. It reduces a heavily used airport, with three (at one time four) runways, to the single 6,500-foot, fully IFR-equipped 21L-03R. Oh, there is one other “old-timer”—Runway 25—still in use but restricted to aircraft under 12,500 pounds. It’s further limited because its final approach conflicts with the 21L final, and speculation is that it too is on the way out.

Everybody who flies in the Midwest knows that after a cold front steamrolls through the Ohio Valley, the normal south-southwest surface winds typically shift around to north-northwest and landing on 21L demands significant crosswind capabilities and pilot skills. And, with “Sunken Lunken” in a valley surrounded by hills, the turbulence approaching that runway can be awesome. (I confess that not too long ago, after waging an interesting battle with a turbulent crosswind in my Cessna 180, the tower asked, “Martha, are you OK?”) When these winds reach the edge of max crosswind capability for large turbine airplanes, they’re relegated to using Greater Cincinnati (KCVG) some 12 miles away across the Ohio River in Kentucky. This is generally not popular with corporate executives or passengers.

READ MORE: Unusual Attitudes

Maybe I’m just being old-fashioned or, as I get older, change is becoming more difficult to accept. And old memories die hard, like when you find out your old grade school has been demolished or your childhood neighborhood has become a slum, when you find yourself mourning the loss of an old lover…or even a runway (not to mention an airport).

I took my first hour of instruction and gave my first hour of dual on what was back then Runway 20 (because magnetic orientation changes over the years). And many, many times I would surprise a student by saying, “Hey. I’m tired of grinding around this traffic pattern with you. Let me out here, tell the tower you need to taxi back, and make three takeoffs and landings by yourself. And, REMEMBER, you’re going to be high on final!” Of course, this had been coordinated with the tower (and couldn’t happen like that these days), but I’d hop out and sit in the grass alongside the runway, making daisy chains or chewing on a piece of clover while my student made those first glorious three solo takeoffs and landings. Now, I was way across the airport from my flying school and, after his full stop landing, the tower took great delight in clearing the student back to the hangar. He was usually so excited he’d forget about me. So I’d climb the tower steps and use their phone to get somebody to come pick me up.

Runway 21R was the scene of my introduction to ground loops. A group of guys (one of them a CFI who knew how to fly taildraggers) bought an Aeronca 7AC and called themselves the Kamikaze Flying Club. Frank was a little sweet on me and anxious to show his prowess so we went flying in the little yellow airplane with the famous shark’s mouth painted on the nose. Taxiing back to the tiedown, things suddenly began to spin—I saw grass, the taxiway behind us, the tower, and some hangars. It was fun so I laughed and said, “Oh Frank, do it again!” He glowered at me and said, “Shut up! That was a ground loop.” No damage, except to this future airline pilot’s pride.

Another afternoon, when the winds were strong and steady, blowing right down the runway, Mike Smith and I were out in one of Cincinnati Aircraft’s Champs. (Mike’s father, Bud Smith, owned the operation so “rental” was no problem.) Out on final, he was able to slow the airplane to the edge of a stall…and it stopped! We were stationary over the golf course. After clearing us to land two or three times, the controller—who had little sense of humor—told us to LAND or go somewhere else.

The Procter and Gamble flight department had occupied with a fleet of Douglas DC-3s the old Aeronca hangar at the end of 20L since 1950. They’d even designed an ingenious “track” to turn their airplanes sideways on the ramp and winch them into the hangar. Well, the ’60s brought the Gulfstream I, and the only way they’d fit was to raise the hangar roof. P&G being P&G, thought raising the roof and obstructing the tower’s view of the approach end of the 20L was no problem. The city just displaced the threshold of 21R by a considerable 900 feet.

Then the city constructed a wide taxiway for the Gulfstreams crossing at that unusable end and put in a narrow blacktop one for the little guys taking off at the new threshold. It was less than adequate—too narrow to even turn into the wind for runup. That was the impetus for a midnight (after the tower closed) expedition out to the new “corporate” taxiway on our bicycles with cans of traffic paint, graph paper, and measuring tapes. In honor of the notoriously pompous flight department manager who exerted considerable “juice” with the city, we spent all night painting, in large letters: THE NELSON U. ROKES MEMORIAL TAXIWAY.

Nobody knew who did it but, kind of surprisingly, both the company pilots and Nelson loved it. For years, the tower commonly cleared airplanes to their hangar, “via the memorial!”

It was a different time, and I have to accept today’s 8-foot fences and security cameras as the norm—obsolete runways and all those tempting bridges have to go. But, oh, how I miss those days.

The post Thoughts on Closing a Runway appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Why do we fly people without explaining to them what we’re doing? Why do we shush inquisitiveness from adults and kids? Some of us make the effort to take passengers along through the walk around and explain what we’re looking for. Some passengers are delighted to learn this, and they should be kept involved in the entire flight, for they might end up in flight school. Others are bored by it and just want to get in and get somewhere: they should fly commercial. How many of us have significant others that fit the latter description? You have my condolences.

The Great Inquisition

A friend has a Van’s Aircraft RV-6 that he often travels in with his wife. When he bought an Aeronca 7AC Champ and he took her on a cross-country flight to a familiar destination, halfway through the flight she inquired, “Shouldn’t we be there by now?” It was no joke.

In the RV-6, she had been quite chatty sitting beside him with the panel before her, and she seemed to be involved in the flight. Stuck in the rear seat of the Aeronca with nothing to interact with but the back of his head, it became clear that she wasn’t the least bit involved in the flight, and it turns out she really hadn’t been that involved during the RV flight.

On the return flight, he had her sit in front and do most of the flying. He no longer shared flight plans with her—he discussed them with her, and let her decide what the best route would be. She caught the bug, took an online ground school, and hired a local CFI for the air work. Within a year, she’d passed the knowledge test, found a designated pilot examiner who could fit in the RV-6, and earned her private pilot certificate. Flying isn’t for everyone, but we won’t know if flying is for our “one” until we involve them.

When I carry passengers in rough conditions, I have to keep them fully engaged with navigating or flying the airplane, just to avoid motion sickness. In Flight of Passage, Rinker Buck memorialized his nausea in the back seat of the family Piper PA-11, begging his brother—while being slammed by Taconic turbulence—to let him fly so he could keep his breakfast down. We can learn from his experience.

Teaching Leads to Mastery

The best way to master a subject is to teach it. We’ll never possess all the answers, but we can learn humbly from the questions others ask. (If you’re a narcissist, fully aware of your incompetence, and can’t admit that you’re ignorant of or wrong about anything, go to a golf course instead of an airport.)

By sharing our experiences and imparting knowledge to our passengers, we exhibit our respect and caring for them. The airlines are required to conduct a passenger safety brief prior to every flight. How many of us do this in GA? The preflight brief is the minimum we should be teaching our passengers. If they appear disinterested, keep them involved anyway, at least until the aircraft is tied down or chocked at the destination.

There may be social obstacles to sharing our passion for flight with our passengers. I’ve been accused of mansplaining how to perform slips on final and how to time magnetos (it may have been my gesticulating with manly hands and my use of the expression, sparky-sparky that gave this impression).

Trying to connect with someone toting a cell phone is also a source of frustration. The “not my job” attitude can be exasperating, usually expressed with, “Why are you telling me this?” I typically respond with: “Because I’ll need your help.” Once their eyes stop rolling, I keep them busy with a finger on the chart and their eyes looking out, a vintage luxury that glass panels sorely lack.

A Wake-Up Call To Promote GA

Recent advances in avionics have minimized pilot workloads to the point where boredom can be more of a safety issue than the complacency that accompanies our overconfidence in the sparky-sparky system. Years ago, most GA autopilots performed altitude and heading duties only. There is no more helpless a feeling than hearing the faint voice of someone on the frequency who, while flying on top to the coast, succumbed along with his passengers to the soporific drone of well-synchronized props, awaking almost two hours out over the ocean with only 40 minutes of fuel remaining. For some, the greatest compliment a passenger can give a pilot is to fall asleep during the flight, but the best compliment is actually to stay involved with the flight.

The next time we hear—“Are we there yet?”—let it be a wake-up call that we could be doing more to promote GA by engaging our passengers more in our flying.

This article was first published in the 2022 Southeast Adventure Guide of FLYING Magazine.

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