By (USUA #A86096)
Hi Folks -
It's that time of the month again, and again newsletters were few and far between. And those few that did arrive had very little to report about flying activities. But most clubs are now in the planning stages for this summer and its long awaited fly ins, competitions, adventures, cross country flights, get togethers at the air strip, and all the things that make this sport so much fun. That being said, there is still nothing new to report in this month's version of Around the Patch with the exception that someone from MTUG attempted to post three announcements to the USUA Calendar. Unfortunately the posts got here without a date and time so the calendar software did not know where to post them and we could not identify the person who uploaded the information so we could ask for a correction. If that person is out there and reading this, please repost your events and this time include the time, date and place information. Thanks.
With still nothing new to fill this column this month, I am forced to call on some old history. This will shed some light on one of the few accident reports submitted to USUA during its existence. But for the full affect, I must start out early in the morning one September not too long ago. The sun rose early in the East, as it has been known to do for a number of years, which meant that it was over our right shoulders as the group of us began the task of erecting the tent in honor of Bermudian Valley's yearly Chili Cook Off. As the day wore on, numbers of pilots and their families began to arrive and prepare their entry in the gastronomic competition of the decade (for York County Pennsylvania that is). To jump right past the eating and the voting and the awarding of prizes for those dishes judged to be the best of the day, we will get on with the flying stories.
When everyone had eaten and we were sitting in a totally disorganized group under and outside the tent, it soon dawned on most that as the sun was sinking in the West (just the opposite side of the runway from which it had risen earlier that day) the slight breeze had abated and the immaculate blue sky was enhanced by a calm, no wind meteorological condition. A perfect day and time to do a little flying. I was initially perfectly content to sit quietly with my hands folded, comfortably, across my totally full belly, and watch the antics of my fellow Bermudian Valley denizens. But, they looked like they were having so much fun, I soon felt the irresistible urge to join them, and headed to the hangar where the MiniMax known as "Plum Krazee" was contentedly resting.
I grabbed her by the nose and dragged her unprotestingly out of her resting place, and pointed her nose toward the far end of the runway. Now, with all those people watching, I wanted the old girl to really impress everyone and start on the first or second blade of the handproped start. Of course, in my zeal to impress, I gave her one too many pumps of the primer, and flooded the happy little engine. Having failed at my attempt to impress the onlookers, I still wanted to fly so I instituted the time honored procedure for clearing a flooded engine. Switch off, fully open throttle, five to six blades backwards, close the throttle, switch on, and prop it again. Everything went well EXCEPT, I failed to close the fully open throttle. Well, Plum Krazee took advantage of the situation, and started on the first blade. My first clue that disaster was impending was the airplane started to move in my direction. Being ever alert and possessing unparalleled reflexes, I jumped for the cockpit to close the throttle and save the day.
The next thing I knew was that I was sitting on my butt, looking over my left shoulder at the spinner buried in the ground and six inches of splintered prop where a fully functioning propeller used to be. It all happened so fast that I swear, I was unaware of the airplane's axle hitting me in the shins and the wing catching me in the midriff just above my hips. Luckily this bent me in the middle, and I sat down rather than falling backwards into the plane of the spinning propeller. The cost of a new propeller and the replacement of the Prop shaft on the engine made this a learning experience, with a tuition cost in the neighborhood of $1000.00 (including shipping and handling and the replacement of the engine mount which was broken in transit).
In retrospect, it could have been much worse. One scenario being the aforementioned falling backwards placing my head in the arc of the spinning propeller. Another possibility was that the airplane did not tip and bury its nose in the turf, but ran right over me and proceeded to chew up any number of innocent bystanders or hapless airplanes in the neighborhood. Had none of these things happened, the airplane was pointed in the direction of Camp David and could have conceivably taken off by itself and, unaided by human hands, violated that restricted air space which would have made me "a person of interest" to the FAA.
There is a point to all of this. The thing that we do for fun has an aspect of danger to it. Because of this we must always head the advice of my first Instructor - "First - Fly the Airplane." And this includes even before you plant yourself in the seat. The airplane and its safe operation is of primary importance at all times, and wanting to impress onlookers is a serious distraction. Forget the onlookers and concentrate on the safe operation of the vehicle.
Secondly, Never, never, never, hand prop an airplane unless:
As the flying season begins for 2007, I hope all of you can benefit from my "confession" and fly safely from the time you leave home for the airport until you are back home in your favorite easy chair.
Lets all have a safe, fun, rewarding flying season 2007! See you next month.