But on a late-afternoon flight through the Wisconsin countryside last week, it did cross my mind.

It’s not that I didn’t have permission to land at the private grass strip. It’s that Shane, the person who granted me permission to land there, wasn’t technically the owner. And while I was somewhat confident his permission was sufficient, I knew it probably wouldn’t hold up in court.

I first met Shane at a fundraising event hosted by the Wisconsin Aviation Hall of Fame, a nonprofit dedicated to collecting and preserving the state’s aviation history. They were unveiling a new collection of 34,000 historic photographs being put on public display. These never-before-seen images are a true treasure trove, and I’ll be featuring some of the more notable finds in future installments of History’s Unique Aircraft.

• READ MORE: Wisconsin Aviation Hall of Fame Launches Photo Digitization Campaign

Shane and I started chatting, and I learned that he is the president of the local Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) chapter. We began discussing some of the lesser-known private airfields in the area. I mentioned how I’d always wanted to fly into one particularly nice-looking one east of Madison called Der Schwarzwald Airport (5WI3) but hadn’t yet reached out to the owner to ask for permission. 

Turning to face me directly, Shane then bowed his head and ceremoniously touched the edge of his hand to each of my shoulders, one after the other. “I hereby anoint you an officially approved visitor to Der Schwarzwald,” he said. As it turned out, he was friends with one of the owners of the airfield, and I was now welcome to drop in anytime.

I thanked him and repeated the ritual for him, granting permission to visit my private home airfield anytime. With the formalities, such as they were, out of the way, we continued our chat about exploring the area and enjoyed the rest of the event before parting ways and heading home. 

A few weeks later, on a picture-perfect Sunday with ample sun and not even the slightest puff of wind, I decided to go check out Der Schwarzwald for the first time. It occurred to me that I could, out of an abundance of caution, give Steve a call to confirm I still had permission to do so. It also occurred to me that I could look up the registered owner of the airfield on airnav.com and check in with them, as well.

But it was a beautiful afternoon, and I didn’t want to spend it on the phone. 

Before long, I was trundling over to the airfield, throttled back to around 90 mph with the windows open and enjoying one of the last looks at Wisconsin’s lush greenery. In only a matter of weeks, the crops would be cut down, and the carpet of emerald foliage would explode into fiery autumn colors.

• READ MORE: That Time When WACO Designers Went a Little Crazy

No matter how pleasant the weather might always be in places like San Diego, the ever-present anticipation of the changing environment and emerging seasons around the Great Lakes might be even more enviable. 

As I approached the unfamiliar airfield, I got down to business. Shane said there were no unique characteristics or hazards with which one should be concerned, only mentioning an incline on one end of the runway. Still, I was on high alert, watching for any radio towers as well as for any traffic. There was, after all, no published common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF) to use, and folks in those parts often flew airplanes without electrical systems, radios, or ADS-B. 

I overflew the field and entered a left downwind for Runway 4, making a note of the completely limp windsock. When I was abeam my touchdown point, I spotted three individuals walking around one of the hangars at the end of the runway. An early, straight-tail 172 sat outside of the hangar. 

When they stopped walking and peered upward, shielding their eyes to get a better look at me, I wondered whether Shane had passed on the news of my invite. And just like the discomfort one might sense when walking uninvited up someone’s driveway and into their backyard, I began to feel like an unwelcome intruder. With any luck, I thought, they’d be friendly, and bail money wouldn’t be necessary at all.

• READ MORE: 5 of the Best Pieces of Gear for Epic Underwing Camping

I reduced my throttle to just above idle, making a fairly short, constant turn from downwind to final. Thanks to the 170B’s 40-degree flap setting, it’s fairly easy to do so in a stable manner while allowing the airspeed to bleed down to the 60 mph short-field approach speed recommended by the book. 

Rolling out on short final, I saw what Shane was talking about when he referred to the incline. Sure enough, the first 500 feet of Runway 4 was, from my perspective, a rather steep uphill grade. This had the effect of making the rest of the runway a plateau, and I quickly added power, readjusting my aiming point to a position beyond the crest of the hill. 

With close to 3,000 feet to play with, it was no big deal at all, and the lack of wind helped me to execute a wheel landing that made it appear as though I knew what I was doing. Taxiing back to the hangar, the individuals I had spotted from the air were there waiting.

Fortunately, they were all smiles. And unarmed.

• READ MORE: The Unusual Evolution of the Fairchild C-123 Provider

As it turned out, one of them was someone I had once met. His name was Al, and in addition to being one of the owners of the airfield, he was also the owner of an extraordinarily rare airplane, a Wing Derringer. Back in 2015, I spotted it on a flight tracking website, stalked him via the FAA database, and cold-called him to ask permission to photograph it. He happily agreed to meet for a photo shoot at the large regional airport in the area, and after using the shots for a History’s Unique Aircraft article, I sent him a few prints as thanks.

Al and his companions were just as welcoming as can be. They promptly provided me with a tour of the hangar and also of Al’s office, where one of my Derringer prints was proudly on display. His office walls were decorated in his own painted art, recollecting his time spent maintaining F-105 Thunderchiefs for the Air Force. The big windows offered a panoramic view of the runway. The place was idyllic—a little slice of heaven, peaceful, utterly silent, and smelling of freshly cut grass.

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It was an enjoyable visit spent reminiscing about airplanes, friends, and events from the past. Al and the others spun tales from the airfield’s history, recalling how one of them used to keep a Mooney in one of the hangars and how they used to host formal get-togethers more frequently back then. They also provided some valuable local lore, like how the odd mechanical turbulence that results from easterly winds can create some concerning moments during takeoff for the unsuspecting pilot.

With the sun sinking ever lower on the horizon, I signaled the beginning of my departure with the standard, Upper-Midwestern, “Well, I suppose…” The residents reassured me that I was always welcome to stop by. A few minutes later, as I climbed out after takeoff, a glance downward revealed a flurry of enthusiastic, full-arm waves from alongside the runway, bidding me goodbye.

No complaints. No scolding. And certainly no bail money. It was about as good as an unannounced landing at someone’s private airfield could be.

The post Unannounced Landings and the Need for Bail Money appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

They also tend to be larger aircraft. With the exception of a few light twins like the Piper Seminole and Beechcraft Duchess that are mostly utilized for multiengine training, the majority are equipped with six-cylinder engines and seat four to six people. Maximum takeoff weights range from around 4,000 pounds to over 5,000 pounds.

In exchange for the increased weight, size, and complexity, twins offer redundancy. When paired with a trained and proficient pilot, this equates to a safer aircraft, suitable for overwater flight beyond glide distance from shore and for flights over inhospitable terrain. Provided the owner is undeterred by the higher ownership and operating costs, the tradeoff can be compelling.

But what about an owner who typically travels alone or with just one passenger? In order to enjoy the advantages of a twin, these individuals must fly around with more airplane than necessary, the unfilled cargo space and unoccupied seats increasing fuel consumption and operating costs with no corresponding benefits.

In 1960, entrepreneur George Wing observed this conundrum and crafted a solution. Using John Thorpe’s small, single-engine Sky Skooter as inspiration, he teamed up with Thorpe to create a compact, two-place twin. After experimenting with various engines, the team ultimately certified and produced this aircraft, the Wing Derringer.

The most notable characteristic of the Derringer is the size. The 29-foot, 2-inch wingspan is four feet less than that of a Cessna 150, and it has less wing area than a Piper Tomahawk. Weights are nearly identical to a Cessna 182, with an empty weight of 2,070 pounds and a maximum weight of 3,050 pounds.

Tiny as it may be for a twin, Wing ensured it would be a comfortable, roomy performer. The 44-inch wide cabin is 2 inches wider than a Cessna 182, and the massive baggage compartment behind the seats has a weight capacity of 250 pounds. The unique canopy lifts up and back to provide access to the cabin. After closing the canopy, the pilot activates an air pump that inflates a seal to minimize cabin noise.

To maximize space in the cockpit, traditional throttle and propeller levers are mounted on a central quadrant, while the mixtures are controlled by vernier knobs mounted on the right side of the panel. Ample space is provided for avionics.

With twin 160 hp Lycoming IO-320 engines, the Derringer can cruise at 182 knots while burning 15.8 gallons per hour. With the fuel tanks filled to their 87-gallon capacity, this provides 5.5 hours of endurance, providing a theoretical, no-wind fuel economy of 11.5 nm per gallon

Quick as the Derringer is, it’s regarded as straightforward to handle. Stall speed is 63 knots in landing configuration, and blue line (best single-engine rate of climb) is 110 mph. In 1981, FLYING’s Peter Garrison found that when flying at blue line, “asymmetrical thrust produces so little slip that one can fly the airplane comfortably with aileron alone.”

Unfortunately, as is so often the case, business struggles kept the Derringer from entering full-scale production. Ultimately, only 12 examples were built, with seven remaining on the FAA register today. With so few built, owners are forced to get creative when Derringer-specific airframe parts are needed.

When an owner finds him/herself in need of such a part, they solicit bids from fabricators to remanufacture a handful from scratch. They then reach out to the other Derringer owners, and the rest of the group takes advantage of the quantity discount to obtain and stockpile the part for future use. They also keep in touch and exchange expertise to help keep the fleet airworthy.

Over the years, multiple entities have attempted to resurrect the Derringer, without success. The most recent holder of the type certificate is Emerald Enterprises LTD. As of July 7 of this year, the FAA has announced its intent to designate the type certificate as abandoned and make the related engineering data available upon request, a move that could help owners with the fabrication of replacement parts.

While Wing’s original vision of widespread Derringer production never reached fruition, this small group certainly appreciates the airplane. Many use it just as intended, as an economical means of travel with the redundancy of two engines. And it’s doubtful any of them can resist a look back at the sporty machine as they walk away after a flight.

The post The Wing Derringer: A ‘Sports Car’ of the Aircraft World appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The internet certainly doesn’t help in this regard. One highly visible discussion thread can single-handedly taint a type’s reputation, sending would-be buyers scrambling in other directions. Often, the concern is parts availability. But a more thorough understanding of the issue and a properly calibrated set of expectations can present a more open-minded buyer with some great opportunities.

There are certainly some types that, by virtue of limited production numbers, can legitimately be quite challenging to maintain. If you happen to buy one of the four remaining airworthy Ryan SCs or one of the six Wing Derringers on the FAA register, for example, you’re going to have a difficult time finding parts and qualified maintenance. Those owners must, therefore, get creative.

One of those Derringers is based near me in Madison, Wisconsin. The owner is a fascinating guy named Al. A while back, I asked him what he does when he’s in need of an airframe part. He explained that the handful of Derringer owners across the country keep in touch for precisely this reason. 

When one owner needs a part that’s unavailable and no longer produced, they will get a quote to have the part custom fabricated, and then they’ll negotiate a quantity discount. The rest of the owners chip in their share, whether they need the part or not, and are later provided with one of the parts to stockpile for future use. This rescues the owner in need of the part in question, it helps to prevent the rest of the group from having to repeat the process, and it minimizes the cost for everyone.

That’s a worst-case scenario as far as parts availability goes. But there are several other types that, despite having been produced in relatively large quantities, are cursed with one or more rare and difficult-to-source parts. Parts that, should they require replacement, will ground the airplane until a new one can be found. 

People tend to shy away from airplanes with this sort of issue. Accordingly, they can be the hidden gems of the used aircraft market. In a competitive landscape defined by limited supply and soaring prices, any factor that sends other buyers running away must be viewed as a potential upside.

V-tail Beech Bonanzas are one example. Rather than using an elevator and rudder as on a traditional tail, the V-tail uses two magnesium ruddervators. These are no longer produced, and thus, if you need a set, you’ll have great difficulty finding any. It often comes down to waiting for an existing Bonanza to be wrecked and/or parted out—and then ensuring you’re the high bidder.

The ruddervator situation is dire. So dire, the American Bonanza Society is now offering a reward of $500,000 to the first person or company to certify and market a replacement kit for these control surfaces. With any luck, a company will engineer a solution that’s relatively straightforward to manufacture and cost-effective to purchase.  

Another type with such an issue is the Cessna 162 Skycatcher. Most airframe parts are no longer available, and must either be manufactured from scratch or salvaged from a donor airframe if needed. Depending on the source, one Skycatcher door will cost an owner five figures to replace. 

Aircraft such as the Stinson 108, the Bellanca Cruisair, and some early Maules come equipped with Franklin engines. These engines are generally loved by those who own them, but certain parts like cams and cranks can be difficult to source. I’ve spoken with owners who have waited nearly a year for the part they need to show up at their door.

But none of these examples makes any of the airplanes inherently bad, or even ones to avoid. Even the Skycatcher, with all of its scarce parts, is one of the most modern and affordable certified airplanes on the market. One must simply prepare ahead of time and calibrate one’s expectations with regard to potential maintenance downtime.

The first step toward happy ownership of a type with one or more difficult-to-source parts is networking. Whether the type has a vibrant, well-organized type group like the Beech Aero Club, or whether it’s limited to a humble Facebook group, it’s critical to network with other owners. Whatever ownership challenge you’re facing, there’s a good chance another owner has crossed that bridge and can offer some helpful advice.

• READ MORE: Previous editions of ‘The New Owner’

Specifically, building good working relationships with other owners is helpful when you’re in need of a particular part. If another owner doesn’t have the part in stock, they might know of someone who does. One phone call or email can reach many branches of the grapevine.

The second key to owning a type with an exceedingly rare part or two is to always be searching and shopping for those parts, regardless of whether you need them. Scroll through aviation classified ads from time to time in case you spot something that might come in handy one day. I like to save keyword searches on eBay for rare items I’m after; should a seller list one of them for sale, I’ll receive an email alert.

When one of those rarities pops up, it’s probably a good idea to go ahead and buy it and then stockpile it for future use. Even if you don’t currently need one of the more difficult-to-find items, having one in stock will enable you to return to the skies with a minimum of downtime if and when yours breaks. A friend of mine did exactly this, and keeps an expensive, hard-to-find bearing on hand in case her old, rare propeller happens to need one.

The last step to enjoying an airplane with a rare part or two is the most important—be willing to help another owner out when they’re in need. This is the difference between stockpiling and hoarding. Come to the rescue for another owner in their time of need, and chances are they’ll be there for you when your day comes, scrambling to help you get back into the air. 

If every owner of a type makes an effort to seek out and locate hard-to-find parts—and is also willing to sell their stockpiled part to another when needed—the ownership of that aircraft type becomes a lot easier for everyone. More examples of the type will be kept airworthy and flying, and fewer examples will be left to deteriorate or taken to the scrapyard. A little selflessness goes a long way.

Ultimately, the whole idea is to view ourselves not as the owner of our airplane, but rather, as its current caretaker. Many have come before us, and if we take our duty seriously, many will follow. Regardless of the type or rarity, working together goes a long way to keeping our respective fleets flying for generations to come. 

The post In the Search for Rare Parts, Networking and Planning Can Save You appeared first on FLYING Magazine.