My airplane has similar issues. I shouldn’t be surprised. We were both made in the same year: 1972. She’s serial number 9046. I’m somewhere around 108 billion. The Bonanza has evolved a lot faster than humans have. My knees are still Gen 1, and my electrical system hasn’t been upgraded to 28 volts. Not holding my breath either. My autopilot works just fine, but that’s not considered a desirable attribute in a human.

Last week I departed Los Angeles for New York. I flew straight back to Moriarty Municipal Airport (0E0) in New Mexico to clean up some additional squawks that surfaced post-annual. These aren’t things Fernie missed, rather just additional groans and signs of aging that my bird is exhibiting. Fernie cared for her immediately and got us going in just a day. By comparison, my doctor has a “first available” three months out, and my squawks are quite a bit more difficult to address and repair.

As a young man, I sustained plenty of injuries taking part in the many extreme sports I was drawn to. To alleviate the depression of being sidelined by an injury, I would tell myself that the treatment was going to make me stronger than I was before. I believed that my double meniscus surgery would make my knees like new again. It didn’t. You could make a case that the multiple fractures I’ve endured have possibly healed stronger than they were pre-break, but the calcified bump on my foot over the fifth metatarsal makes it impossible to wear ski boots now.

I have similar fantasies when parts are replaced on my airplane. Unlike my knees, this is less of a self-deception. When Joe and Brian from ACE Aircraft Cylinders & Engines overhaul my Continental 550, I am flying behind an engine better than the one it replaced. I breathe easier knowing that Kevin O’Halloran refurbished my landing gear motor. The list goes on. These craftsmen are the equivalent of doctors for our airplanes. They keep our machines healthy.

The squawks I returned to Moriarty with seem to dovetail with my own physical issues. Stay with me here:

• N1750W developed a small oil leak from a flex joint on the breather tube.

• I cough up phlegm most mornings apropos of nothing.

• My Bo’s vernatherm isn’t functioning properly as the oil never seems to get up above 150 degrees at cruise altitudes.

• I’m in Santa Fe, New Mexico, at the moment and couldn’t breathe on my run this morning here at 7K feet msl. I hid behind a bush to avoid the embarrassment of another jogger asking me if I needed help.

• The double-sided tape on my window scoop let go during taxi the other week, sucking the entire assembly out of the window and forcing me to shut down, exit the airplane, and run back to get it. No joggers witnessed this event.

• My knee let go on a tennis court in Griffith Park last month. I snapped it back into place, took an “L” on the match then went and got tacos.

• Lately, there is the faint smell of gas in the cabin.

• Lauren has been complaining about the not-so-faint smell of gas coming from my “cabin.” Neither issue has been resolved to anyone’s satisfaction.

I grew up in the 1980s with Steve Austin. “Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology…Better. Stronger. Faster.” Nope. At 50 it feels more like: Slower. Dumber. Crankier. You take things for granted when you’re young. Now, your health is first and foremost. I used to throw my body around. No stretching. No thoughtfulness. Treated myself like a workhorse: ridden hard and put away wet. I imagine buying a new airplane (something I’ve never done) must allow a similar lack of concern.

Many manufacturers cover basic maintenance for a time, and the warranties are substantial, covering most everything that could go wrong. So a pilot behind a new aircraft flies with mechanical abandon, knowing they likely aren’t going to have anything go wrong—notwithstanding their own deficiencies.

My overhauled engine in the Bonanza has 400 hours on it. I’m right in that sweet spot between the infant mortality stage and the still-distant 1,400-hour TBO. I am not worried about my engine. I can imagine flying past TBO—something I intend to do—but it won’t be the same. Crossing Lake Erie will feel differently with 1,800 hours on the Hobbs. At some point, something will fail. Just like my body. At a certain point, there is only decline. You can try and fight it, but you will one day lose. The best we can do is manage it. This isn’t meant to be morose. I believe the ephemeral quality of life is meant to have us appreciate our time here in a way we could not if we were granted immortality.

The Six Million Dollar Man comparison doesn’t hold water in regards to my body. But in some ways it does hold true for my aircraft. The Garmin suite of avionics I have in my airplane make it far more capable than it was when I first bought it with its steam gauges and a VOR receiver as its sole means of navigation. But there is a law of diminishing returns at play here. The airframe is aging. Metal fatigues. Magnesium pits. Floorboards rot. At some point, and it may not be for years, you’re putting lipstick on a pig.

This is where the comparison between myself and the airplane has its limits. I am deteriorating at a faster pace than my Bonanza. Sadly (or not), N1750W will outlive me. With proper care, she still has many years ahead of her. Me…I’m entering what is effectively the last third of my life. Don’t worry: I’m still sending it. I have no intention of slowing down. But I’m aware that time is ticking. In the meantime, I’m gonna keep applying that lipstick. Appearances must be kept.

This column first appeared in the August 2023/Issue 940 print edition of FLYING.

The post Time Is Ticking on My Youth—and My Airplane’s Too appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Ah, yes, there are reports that need writing, oil that needs changing, and wrenches that require spinning. As idle hands are the devil’s workshop, let’s take a page from our British cousins’ playbook and “best get on with it.”

The year gone by, 2023, leaves us with more questions than answers, and in aircraft maintenance, that is not a good thing. We know that interest rates are up, consumer confidence is down, and the prop on the airplane spins around. That is about the extent of it.

Planning out one’s actions need not cause dread. With the proper intel, opportunities exist, even in a down market. The best thing to do is map out a strategy, stick to the plan, and hope for the best. 

While I do not claim to hold all the secrets of tomorrow, there is enough industry chatter to give us a rough idea of what will come. After consulting aviation experts, here are my top guesses for aircraft maintenance trends in 2024.

Air Traffic Increase

Topping the list of aircraft maintenance trends is an increase in air traffic. FAA representative Angela Stubblefield recently said: “The No. 1 trend is the rebound and continued increase in air traffic.” What does that have to do with maintenance, you say? More flight hours and cycles equal an accelerated maintenance schedule. Oil changes, tire replacements, and even windshield wiper blade swaps increase the more you fly.

I believe business and GA travel is better than flying commercial. When I travel by air in a Beechcraft, chances are I am friends with the pilot and have a connection to them. With everyone cramming back into the airline terminals at KATL, the same percentage of folks are headed to their GA airport.

This leads us to another factor to consider: ground traffic at airports. This can elicit a greater chance of hangar or ramp rash for aircraft. Have you ever taxied too far to port or starboard to avoid another aircraft? In doing so, if you hit a taxi light, your engine could suffer sudden stoppage. You know what that means. Call your insurance broker.

Spare Part Material Cost

Have you been to the store recently? Aircraft part costs are increasing. The supply chain has yet to recover from COVID 19 pandemic-induced shuttered factories, reduced inventory levels, and personnel layoffs.

Locatory.com, an aircraft parts e-commerce platform, tackled this subject in a recent article. While acknowledging some recent gains in the spare parts arena, it said “evident shortages persist due to a complex interplay of factors.” This leads to cost increases, parts scarcity, and long manufacturing lead times.

It is the simple law of economics. Anytime demand exceeds supply, the price goes up. This is different from discretionary spending too. To fly, one must maintain. It is possible to skip maintenance, although no one recommends that. 

Sustainability

As you most likely have guessed by now, sustainability will always make the list of trends. It must. As aircraft evolve, our processes, practices, and policies need to follow.

Solutions provider Poente Technical offers this insight: “With a heightened focus on environmental sustainability, MRO [maintenance, repair, and operations] in 2024 will witness an increased integration of eco-friendly practices. From using sustainable materials in repairs to implementing green technologies in maintenance processes, the industry is aligning with global efforts to reduce its carbon footprint.”

Couple that with the move to unleaded avgas, and we will have plenty to discuss in 2024.

Technical Labor Shortage

Finding technical talent is challenging enough, but the departure of experience during the pandemic makes it even harder now. This predicament is not going to get better anytime soon. What is the industry doing about it?

General Electric discusses apprenticeship programs, building partnerships, and trying new models to recruit and retain workers. It has successfully partnered with the state of Massachusetts to attract and train technical talent.

Programs aside, there must be a way to get the youth excited about aviation again. Events held during National Aviation Day are a good start, but we cannot simply focus on this need one day a year. We need more involvement, much earlier than in college, when students have already chosen a career path.

Predictive Maintenance

Most people associate predictive maintenance with major airlines, but there is a growing trend for business and GA. This will need to develop over time, but we can stay close to the airlines and track their progression. Any advancements in that area will eventually flow down to lighter aircraft.

Why is predictive maintenance so essential? Brighter Directions puts it this way: “Delays in flights due to a potential malfunction, the anxiety of having a safe flight across borders, expensive tickets due to continuous upkeep, etc., are a few of the many factors that can be resolved through predictive maintenance.”

We will investigate these topics and more over the coming months. So everyone gets settled, buckle in, and prepare to taxi into 2024. As always, drop me a note and tell me what I missed.

The post Top Aircraft Maintenance Trends for 2024 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I was doing my routine run-up. My homebuilt’s quaint touches include a toggle switch for each mag. When I clicked the left switch to “off,” the rpms dropped by several hundred, and the engine ran rough. Usually I see mag drops of just 50 or 75 rpm, so this was disconcerting. I went through the usual fouled-plug routine of running up to high power, leaning the mixture, and verbally encouraging the offending plug to clean itself out. When I repeated the mag check, however, nothing had changed.

“Whiteman Ground, Two Mike Uniform, returning to parking.”

Assuming it was a fouled plug, I thought about how to identify the culprit without having to pull and inspect all 12 of them. I quickly discovered I was in doubt about a couple of rather-basic questions. When I wired the P-leads—those are the wires that connect the mags to the mag switches—20 or so years ago, did I wire them so that turning off the left switch meant you were testing the left mag or the right? I could imagine either answer making sense. The simplest explanation was that “L” above a switch meant that switch was connected to the left mag. But I could also imagine that the “L” means “this switch tests the left mag.” After all, you’re looking at a label that says “L,” and now you’re supposed to say to yourself, “That means right”? Does that make sense?

Besides, there was another question: How did the mags relate to the cylinders? The engine manual was at home, so no help from that quarter. This may seem a strange thing for me to be confused about—because I had built the airplane and installed the engine myself—but I guess it had never occurred to me that I might care to know where the plug leads went. Additionally, you can forget a lot in 20 years. The leads converged into thick bundles of blue bucatini—impossible to relate the ones going in to ones coming out. I suspected that each mag drove the top plugs on its own side and the bottom ones on the opposite side, which seemed to make intuitive and aesthetic sense. I went to a nearby maintenance hangar to check. The A&P shrugged. He had seen them wired all sorts of ways, he said, including all left plugs to the left mag and all right ones to the right (an arrangement that virtually guarantees an in-flight emergency and would seem to make a run-up with a 100 rpm mag drop impossible).

So I cut the tie wraps on the clumps of plug leads. Indeed, they were wired as I originally suspected, left mag to top left plugs, etc. I re-bundled them in such a way that if the question ever arose again, I would more easily see the answer. I then checked P-lead continuity with a multimeter and determined that the toggle switch marked “L” was indeed connected to the left mag—as any child would have thought, had a child been available to consult. When I flipped the “L” switch to off, I was testing the right mag.

So, the problem was most likely one of the left bottom plugs; fouling tends to favor bottom plugs. I pulled them. All clean.

I talked with another A&P. He suggested that, if I had EGT probes on all cylinders—I do—I should look at the EGTs while running up. The EGT in a cylinder should rise when one plug is not firing, because the fuel-air mixture in the cylinder takes longer to burn and so the gases going out the exhaust pipe are hotter.

I performed that test, and the result was dramatic. The EGT on the No. 1 cylinder—the right rear cylinder on a Continental—was unusually high to start with, and when I shut off the left mag, the EGT dropped down to the peg. In other words, when the bottom plug on the No. 1 cylinder was turned off, the cylinder went dead.

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So the villain was the top plug in No. 1. I replaced it and did another run-up. Now, it was normal. The defective plug, a fine-wire type, looked perfectly all right; whatever the failure was, it was internal. It must have failed during the previous flight, probably toward the end, when reduced power settings would mask a misfire in one cylinder.

But this flight was a scratch. It was just going to be a pleasure flight, so no great loss, but it could as easily have been an important business trip—that is, if I were a person who had important business. But it got me thinking again about this fundamental disadvantage of preflight inspections. If you find something wrong, it’s too late to remedy it.

The Advantage of the Preflight Check

Maybe the preflight checks should have taken place at the end of the previous flight. I should do a run-up at the end of a flight as well as at the start.

I passed this thought by my friend Peter Lert, the polymath, who added that momentarily switching off both mags while idling provides a check of P-lead continuity. In other words, it verifies that you are not parking with a “hot prop.” Apparently, there are some keyed ignitions in which it’s possible to get a drop on each mag separately but still have a hot prop when the key is turned to off.

Returning from a trip a couple of days later, I tried out the new routine. Normally, I cut the engine a couple hundred feet before reaching my hangar and let momentum carry the airplane the remaining distance. It’s soothing, the way it coasts silently to a stop. This time, I taxied up to the hangar with the engine still running, performed a run-up and mag check, did the both-mags-at-once check, and only then shut down.

Like all unfamiliar practices, this one felt odd, but I will probably get used to it.

The other thing that can slow you down at the start of a flight is oil. Checking oil at the end of a flight is not so practical; a good deal of oil still coats the internal surfaces of the engine, so the dipstick indication is inaccurate. But still—is it useless? Possibly, because oil drains back into the sump rapidly at first, then more and more slowly, so the relationship between the post-flight dipstick reading and the reading when the engine is cold is variable, depending on how soon after shutting down you look.

Nevertheless, I intend to give it a try. I’ll check the oil after landing and then again before flying. If I find that the post-flight reading has a reasonably consistent relation to the preflight one, I’ll know at the end of a flight if I need to add oil. Not at the beginning, when I’m already running late.

Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in the November 2021 issue of FLYING.

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