To get the full benefit of a visit to the National Business Aviation Association-Business Aviation Convention and Exhibition (NBAA-BACE), you really ought to arrive in a business jet.
I mean, that’s what the show is all about. You’ll see a lot of huge, continent-leaping behemoths capable of flying 12 people at, say, Mach 0.80 as far as 8,000 nautical miles—and you’ll see everything else down to more personal-sized six-seaters. This year I was fortunate enough to fly to NBAA-BACE in Orlando, Florida, in Embraer’s Praetor 500—a seven- or nine-seater that'll do 3,400 nm in style.
Florida is known for its thunderstorms. Most of them are of the air mass, pulse-type, which grow, mature, and dissipate in an hour or so. A lot of them like to form along the coasts, and so it was the day of my flight. A steeply contouring slow-mover, angry in red and purple, was parked right over Melbourne, dumping plenty of rain. Barnhart and I could see it on the Praetor’s multifunction display, where we had a choice of watching it via datalinked SiriusXM Aviation weather or the ship's own weather radar. No way were we going to launch into that mess.
To take advantage of the wait, we reviewed some of the Praetor’s systems (and filmed a short intro to the flight deck for you). Regarding the aircraft's systems, the ice protection system, like so many other features, is automatic. Ice detectors and algorithms sense when ice might be forming, and presto, the anti-ice automatically goes into action. You can also activate its elements manually.
The sidestick controls are also noteworthy. They’re not connected, so to remind the pilots that they might both be moving their sticks at the same time, the stick physically vibrates and an automated voice annunciates “dual input.” A press of the red AP/PTY button restores control to the pilot flying.
Because the FBW flight control system is so reliant on electrical power, Embraer gives the Praetor 500 and 600 a supersized electrical system. It’ll take a lot of bad luck for you to lose power. There are two engine-driven generators, an APU-driven generator, three batteries, and a RAT (ram air turbine) that pops out of the nose cone if all the above manages to conk out. That’s seven sources of electrical power.
Soon enough, the storm moved away and I was cleared for takeoff. The acceleration was a wake-up. But ground steering—governed by its own set of control laws—narrowed the nosewheel steering angles as speed built. At 30 knots, the angle goes from 62 to 10 degrees. At 80 knots it goes to a three-degree range of movement. There is no tiller.
None of that much mattered, because the V1 of 99 knots and VR of 114 knots soon blew by and I was out of there, pitched up 20 degrees and climbing away at 4,000 fpm doing 200 knots. Nice.
In the practice area off the coast, and in an altitude block from 16,000 to 18,000 feet, we did a low-speed protection demonstration. With autothrottles and autopilot off and power set to idle, I pulled the sidestick to the stop to maintain altitude as airspeed bled off. The airspeed tape changed to white, then amber, then dipped into the red—but we didn't stall, even in banks. Why? The control laws automatically lowered the nose to values equating to no less than 1.3 VSO. FBW won’t let you stall.
For the recovery, Barnhart advanced the power to accelerate. But get this: He only brought up one engine. But I couldn't detect any yaw, thanks to the FBW's sideslip control laws. "Put your feet on the floor," he said. The airplane climbed away, straight within a couple degrees of heading, and level.
Our arrival slot at Executive Airport was coming up, so we descended to 6,000 feet and were vectored to the airport's ILS Runway 7. At 180 knots we went flaps 1, at 160 flaps 2, gear down and flaps 3, then full, then slowing to the VREF of 109 knots as the runway drew near. At the “30” (foot) callout the usual drill is to cut power, level off slightly, and let the airplane drift to the runway. With the mains planted, yet another FBW control law lowers the nose to the runway via a 2-degree-per-second derotation process. Get on the brakes, hit the thrust reverser triggers, pull back on the power levers, get out of reverse before slowing to 40 knots, and then taxi to Atlantic Aviation for initial staging.
Did I mention that our airplane was powered by sustainable aviation fuel (SAF)? Well, it is, along with other Embraer jets. Per an agreement with the Sheltair network of FBOs—one of which is at Melbourne Orlando International Airport—Embraer orders SAF in 8,000-gallon lots and is committed to a company goal of zero carbon emissions by 2040. That's 10 years before the industry-standard target of net zero emissions by 2050.
Atlantic Aviation at Orlando's Executive Airport also offers SAF, so once parked on the Atlantic ramp, “my” Praetor was given a top-off—and carbon offset credits. Atlantic, like Sheltair and other FBOs, participates in a recently publicized “book and claim” arrangement that manages sales of both Jet A and SAF for operators wanting carbon offset credits. Those enrolled in book-and-claim can claim offset credits, help balance credits over a world market designed to spread the use of SAF, and maximize total carbon credits. I'll talk more about SAF and book and claim in a future article.