Unusual Attitude

PARE. (Or was it PAIR? Or PEAR?)

Anyway, the capital letters remind me to reduce Power, or Pitch, or the Propeller, and Initiate Recovery, or Inhibit Rotation, or Amplify Rudder, or some such word jumble that magically provides clarity and allows me to emerge from peril.

If this sounds farfetched, it is. Aviation overflows with so many acronyms that pilots are hard-pressed to remember them, let alone decipher their meaning, during moments of crisis. Expecting pilots to correctly recall and quickly execute this acronym avalanche in the midst of an aerial emergency is unrealistic, to put it mildly.

Instructors seem to take perverse pride in adding to their students’ flood of abbreviations. While reviewing a student’s upcoming flight, an instructor might ask whether they’ve performed PAVE, IMSAFE, AR(R)OW, and MCPRAWN checks. If the engine fails during flight, they’ll be expected to know what “ABC then DE” means, in addition to performing the memory items in the pilot’s operating handbook.

Wouldn’t it be better to simply ask students whether they feel well, have checked the aircraft paperwork, and reviewed special-use airspace along the way? Relying on acronyms is more likely to cause confusion than eliminate it.

The aviation acronyms that afflict us come in two basic flavors: There’s the nauseatingly cute variety (PLease START for engine failures, and TURNPALE for aircraft certification categories); and the nonsensical (DECARAT for required IFR equipment). There also are situations in which we get to choose from multiple acronyms—or their cousins, useless mnemonics—for the same thing. (IMSAFE and PAVE for self-evaluations, and CRAFTS and in “Clear Deep Rivers and Hot Springs, Fish Swim” for copying clearances.)

I’ll admit that some acronyms have been repeated so many times in aviation that they become words unto themselves. A CIGAR (controls, instruments, gas, airframe, run-up) check before takeoff, and a GUMPS (gas, undercarriage, mixture, prop, seatbelts) check before landing are so deeply internalized by so many pilots that resisting them seems futile. Simply verbalizing these mantras can be comforting, and maybe that’s reason enough to justify keeping a few acronyms around.

But let’s also ’fess up to the obvious. In the complicated, sometimes stressful business of flying airplanes, no hackneyed acronym can substitute for a cockpit flow pattern backed up by a checklist.

If an acronym helps you recall critical items, or simply makes you feel better, go ahead and use it. But to me, acronyms clutter my mind and increase my likelihood of overlooking something important. And instructors who insist on speaking in acronyms aren’t educating or imparting real wisdom. They’re just providing CliffsNotes in a foreign language.

If you need an acronym for that, try SAIL (silly acronyms inhibit learning). Or CANE (confusing acronyms need eradication). Or ENOUGH (eliminate needless obsolete useless guesswork here).

Anyway, let’s go back to that scary scenario in which a spinning airplane is rapidly descending toward the ground. What should the pilot do?

That’s easy. Pull the throttle to idle and neutralize the controls. That in itself is enough to stop a spin in most airplanes. And at very least the pilot won’t doing any harm with the controls that make a bad situation worse. There may be other aircraft-specific things to do, but idle power and neutral controls is a good start.

After emerging from the resulting dive, add power to resume normal flight and thank aerobatic ace Bill Finagin for the quick and effective recovery technique. It’s incredibly effective, and you don’t have to remember any nonsensical acronyms to get the desired result.