My blue notebook

There’s a romance to the idea, and maybe even some practicality. For most of us, necessity is a stretch, if not an outright lie. But the same could be said for people who own boats or second homes. We could quibble all day over details and definitions, but on this we can agree: Some things in life are necessary, and others are, well, less so. While most of us need a car, nobody “needs” a Lamborghini.

What makes airplanes different isn’t just the cost of acquisition, it’s the expense and legal responsibility of ownership. The FAA has a lot to say about this, as do the manufacturers of the airframe, engine, and propeller. When we learn to fly and rent an airplane, we are told that there is a cost of X dollars an hour to rent it. In time, we learn that those dollars are broken down into various sub-costs, such as fuel, oil, tiedown (or hangar), and insurance. The fixed costs are easy to compute, and the variable costs of fuel and oil are at least understood, if not known. Maintenance gets complicated because there is no such thing as a fixed cost of maintenance. Ten mechanics might look at one airplane and come up with 10 completely different lists of squawks—even if they are all using the same checklist or reference materials.

What does owning an airplane actually cost? When I bought my 1977 turbocharged Piper Arrow I decided to track every dollar I spent on the airplane in a blue spiral notebook ($1.06 with tax). I’m not sure why I decided to do this, other than to educate myself a bit, and maybe to hold myself accountable. My wife only cares that the airplane is safe and available. I decided when I bought it that I would make every effort to fix discrepancies sooner versus later, that in the long run would be both safer and cheaper.

The airplane itself cost me $122,000, and I also paid up front ($600) for an eddy current inspection on the wing spar given the issues that cropped up after the Embry-Riddle Arrow crash in 2018. The prebuy turned into a combination of an annual, upgrades that I wanted to make, and major repairs that had to be made, some of which were covered by the previous owner. A new firewall, a new engine mount, a propeller overhaul, and other odds and ends set the previous owner back almost $40,000. Because the firewall had to be replaced, the engine had to be removed. On a 45-year-old airplane, it was to be expected that several suddenly accessible parts might be ripe for a change. It was a long list, but I didn’t hesitate. One thing led to another, and combined with the improvements I made (gap seals, door stewards, a new passenger window with a scoop, and a Merlyn wastegate controller for the turbocharger), my final bill turned out to be $47,000. That’s a gut-punch of a number, but the wastegate controller alone was more than $5,000 installed. While the gap seals and door stewards were optional, the items that were replaced or repaired would have come up again soon and cost more money in the long run, and the wastegate controller will help me maximize the life of the engine. But, from the firewall forward I have an almost-new airplane.

When I bought my 1977 turbocharged Piper Arrow I decided to track every dollar I spent on the airplane in a blue spiral notebook ($1.06 with tax).While the airplane was undergoing all this work, I wasn’t idle. My hangar sat empty for several months to the tune of $320 a month. I spent a day at Lowe’s getting some basic items to keep in the hangar, such as a few tools, a couple of buckets, a mini Shop-Vac, a step ladder (which also fits in the cargo section), trash can, work gloves, microfiber cloths, shop towels, extension cords, and a set of shelves to put it all on—$600. Then there was the stuff that I “had” to have to be an owner: a Sidewinder tug was $2,300, but it makes getting the airplane in and out of the hangar a snap, and I can take it with me if I need to; a case of oil filters was $400, a couple of cases of oil was $185, jumper cables were $152, and a GPU (ground power unit) was $284. I also bought some safety gear, such as a first aid kit, a crash axe, an emergency position indicating radio beacon (EPIRB) kit which alone was $492. I bought a Sentry and ForeFlight subscription ($660 combined) and a backup data card and programmer for the Garmin 430 ($420 before the subscription fee). A sampling of other items included customized cowl plugs, two sets of tiedowns, stick-on sun visors for the windows, type club memberships, a GAMI G100UL supplemental type certificate, and dual instruction in another Cherokee to keep current while mine was being worked on. The first two years of the airplane purchase and all the extras came out to $195,858.68. Very little of that was actual operating expenses.

Looking at my notebook, since the beginning of 2023, most expenses are for fuel and parking at various airports and the cost of the hangar. An oil change runs about $300 if I pay someone else to do it.

Insurance is averaging $2,200 a year. Items that stand out are a new pair of DC Pro-X2 headsets for my wife, a consultant fee for some avionics work, and the second annual, which came in at $7,984. The base price for an annual at my shop is $2,700, but because it was the first time this shop had seen the airplane, the mechanics needed to spend some time going through the logbooks. I had one or two minor squawks I wanted addressed, and they found some others, such as needing a new nosewheel hub, brakes, some minor corrosion treatment, fixing some binding on the nosewheel gear door, and a lot of small labor expenses that added up. More important, it gave my shop a chance to get familiar with my airplane while solidifying our relationship with each other. The owner knows I’m not going to fight over every dollar, and I feel comfortable with his experience and assessments. In short, we made things easier for each other. I’m confident that the cost of my next annual will be much closer to the quoted $2,700.

I’ve never been a fan of trying to determine the direct operating costs. I feel like you can either afford to own or you can’t. If you can, the costs become secondary to the experience. In my case, the direct operating costs run about $80 to $90 a flight hour for fuel and oil, with fixed costs of $520 a month for the hangar and insurance. If my next annual comes in high at $4,000, then the hourly cost works out to just under $200 an hour at 100 hours a year. It’s totally worth it. There is never a schedule conflict. I don’t have to worry about the way someone else flies the airplane or the trash they leave in it. The seats are always adjusted for us. We can cut trips short, make them longer, go somewhere at the last minute. Perhaps most importantly, we love the airplane, and isn’t that what it’s really all about?

Chip Wright is an airline pilot and frequent contributor to AOPA publications.