Lancer-not

Someone recently asked which of these is the most unusual aircraft I’ve flown. It is without doubt the Champion 402 Lancer, which—loosely speaking—is a twin-engine Aeronca “Champ.” The exterior is cluttered with so many struts, flying wires, and protuberances that their collective drag make it seem impossible for the airplane to get off the ground.

The Lancer is one of the lightest production twins ever built and perhaps the only one with fixed-pitch propellers. It was born in 1963 when Champion Aircraft had what it thought was a great idea, to produce a small, economical twin that could be used exclusively to train multiengine pilots. Selling for $12,500, Champion offered the twin for little more than the price of a single. The idea sounded good on paper but did not sell or fly very well. The Lancer was given burial rites after only a few dozen had been built.

Climbing aboard is made à la Citabria, by grabbing something sturdy and hauling oneself inside. Once seated, you are surrounded by a maze of knobs, controls, and instruments that reveal no apparent logic to the madness of their layout. Hanging from the left side of the ceiling is a pair of throttles and mixture controls for each pilot and a single pair of carburetor heat controls to be used by both. The front pilot flies using a control wheel while the one in back uses a stick. The airplane has an up/down landing-gear switch on the instrument panel. The switch presumably develops the habit of raising and lowering the gear even though the landing gear is fixed.

The heel brakes are reminders of the Aeronca heritage. Most who have flown the “Airknocker” abhor these archaic, postage-stamp size pedals, and the Lancer pilot finds them no less difficult to operate. The instructor in the rear does not have any brakes and must ensure that his student knows how to operate his brakes before getting underway.

While flying the Lancer, a pilot must crane his neck and stretch his arms in almost every direction. For example, the magneto switches are above, left, and behind his head. The mixture controls are easier to reach but can be mistaken for carburetor-heat controls. A wrong move and the Lancer becomes awfully quiet. Crane your head up and right to see the ammeters and then do a 180-degree swivel to see a fuel gauge. Loading the Lancer presents no problems if you don’t load it very much.

Cockpit visibility isn’t bad; it’s miserable. The front pilot suffers from tunnel vision created by engine nacelles projecting so far forward that they are like oversize horse blinders.

One joy that comes from flying a Lancer is observing the startled expressions of those watching you taxi by. It is amusing to watch those who have never seen a Lancer scratch their heads in bewilderment. It’s not so much fun, however, when others wave their rosary beads at you.

At 5,000 feet the Lancer cruises at 104 knots, the same speed on two engines as a Cessna 150 on one. Pushing the throttles forward increases fuel flow but does little to improve forward speed, a result of the Lancer’s high-drag profile.

It is difficult to speak of the Lancer’s single-engine performance with a straight face because the Lancer doesn’t have any single-engine performance. According to the flight manual, the Lancer descends 250 fpm (at sea level) with one engine shut down and the other developing maximum power. In other words, the Lancer cannot maintain altitude—any altitude—with “one turning and one burning.” (Perish the thought of an engine fire in a fabric-covered airplane.)

Although not kosher, there is one way to barely maintain altitude in the Lancer. First, complete the engine-failure checklist. Then retard the throttle of the “good” engine and gradually reduce airspeed. As airspeed decreases, the rpm of the windmilling, inoperative engine will decrease. Continue to decrease airspeed until the Lancer stalls. By this time, the windmilling propeller will have come to a stop, and the drag created by windmilling will be eliminated. Then recover from the stall and accelerate to glide speed. Power from the operative engine can then be applied because sufficient rudder effectiveness exists at this speed to keep the airplane pointed straight ahead. Using this procedure raises the single-engine ceiling from below sea level to as much as 2,000 feet above.

Perhaps the most important thing a multiengine student can learn from flying a Lancer is not to fly one again.

BarrySchiff.com