Finessing the controls

After establishing a positive rate of climb and retracting the gear, I engaged the autopilot and watched the magic unfold.

Editor at Large Dave Hirschman and I were flying to Clermont County Airport in Batavia, Ohio—home of Sporty’s Pilot Shop—to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the AOPA Airport Support Network (see “Happy anniversary, ASN!” p. 104). We were on an instrument flight plan and enjoying the significant automation afforded by the retrofit Garmin avionics. The autopilot servos perfectly deflected the control surfaces to capture the course and altitude programmed into the navigator and autopilot control panel, flying more precisely than I could ever hope to, while ADS-B and SiriusXM Aviation datalink weather warned of traffic and storms in the area.

The amount of automation and information packed into this 33-year-old airframe is truly impressive. The only caveat is that you have to learn how to properly program the automation and interpret the information. The autopilot will fly the airplane exactly where you tell it, even if it’s the wrong altitude, waypoint, or approach procedure. Reading user manuals is definitely required. OK, more likely watching YouTube videos. Still, being able to program and monitor the flight as PIC instead of making every control input—particularly on a long cross-country—reduces fatigue, maximizes safety by providing more time to think ahead of the aircraft, and justifies the effort required to learn how to fully utilize the equipment.

Based on the booming retrofit avionics industry, we’ve grown to love automation in light airplanes. But at some point, we must turn off the autopilot and land the airplane manually. This is the time we (and our passengers) judge our flying skills. Sure, a firm landing may be perfectly acceptable, but a smooth, graceful landing is usually the goal.

While there are many ways to keep our flying skills sharp, I rely on tailwheel simplicity. My airplane, a Cessna 140, is as basic as they come. No vacuum system, certainly no autopilot. You fly based on the airplane’s attitude and the sound of the slipstream and refer to a few round gauges for critical information. Although the airplane can fly cross-country—at half the speed of the Bonanza—I feel it most enjoys landing on early morning dew-covered grass or diabolically challenging its pilot during gusty crosswinds.

About once a week I remain in the pattern to practice landings. The Cessna’s spring steel landing gear rewards a low sink rate at touchdown with a smooth landing. Too much vertical speed on touchdown and it will surely bounce, with the bounce height directly proportional to the sink rate. I’ve discovered this highly practiced skill of managing sink rate pays off when landing most other types of aircraft—including the Bonanza.

For years, corporate and airline pilots have told me they also own a Cessna 140 (or Piper Cub or Luscombe). That surprised me as I thought they would naturally want to fly faster and more sophisticated airplanes. It turns out they were looking for exactly the opposite: a simple machine that rewards precision and scorns sloppiness. An airplane that fine-tunes the art of manual aircraft control. As automation is increasingly making its way into general aviation aircraft, I get their point.

Automation and control finesse contribute to the safety and enjoyment of flying GA aircraft, and both must be practiced regularly to remain proficient and reap the rewards of effortlessly tracking the magenta line and greasing the landing. What a great excuse to get up and fly.

[email protected]