This wasn’t a dark and stormy night—it was clear and a million under a full moon. We hid beside a ’54 Nash in the parking lot behind the convention center where the Official Office of Plane Safety (OOPS) was holding its annual secret dinner and bacchanal to announce to its members the winners of the Stupid Pilot Tricks awards from the year 2020.
One of the OOPS honchos felt strongly that aviation safety would be best served by disclosing the results publicly. We were following her instructions for the handoff of the records she’d planned for the less-than-sober confusion as the dinner staggered to its conclusion.
We froze in the shadows as light from the opening rear door of the building illuminated nearby cars and an Elvis impersonator shot out muttering, “Thank you very much. Thank you very much,” as he fished in his pocket for his car keys before starting to sing something about blue shoes.
Before the door slammed shut, a diminutive figure dressed in black slipped out and walked rapidly toward our hiding place. Her stiletto-heeled footsteps were muffled by the off-key crooning nearby. Passing the front bumper, she activated the light on her cell phone, spotted us, and thrust a golden folder into our hands. “I could only get the non-fatal accident results. There’s a lot of good stuff—I’m counting on you to get the word out,” she commanded as she opened the car door, slid in, fired up and departed so fast we couldn’t even mumble our thanks.
Moving quickly to our car, we got in, looked at the golden folder embossed with the OOPS logo and its motto, “Will Doing This Make Me Look Stupid in the NTSB Report?” and started reading the winners.
Getting Underway
All flights have to start somewhere, yet some pilots intending to commit aviation don’t get as far as the flight portion. A Cessna Cardinal RG pilot who later said that he was stressed, in a hurry because the weather was deteriorating, was departing much later than planned. He wasn’t sure if he’d set the parking brake or dislodged it with his leg while going through the start procedure. The first start attempt was unsuccessful. He then advanced the throttle as part of the flooded start procedure. On turning the key, the engine lit, and the airplane started rolling. Attempting to stop, the pilot’s wet sandals slipped off the brakes. After that, he stated, “in a panic, I rapidly advanced the throttle instead of retarding it.” Under full power, his airplane accelerated briskly until encountering the airport’s backup braking system—a building. The backup worked flawlessly.
We thought we’d heard every ineffective way of securing a tailwheel airplane prior to a solo hand-propping effort instead of using chocks, tiedown ropes and actually setting the throttle at idle. Then we heard about the pilot of a Piper J-3 who decided that he would prevent aircraft movement once reciprocation took place by turning “the tailwheel sideways.” Upon application of the pilot’s Armstrong starter, the engine fired and went to the low cruise throttle setting that the pilot had selected. The pilot promptly discovered that his aircraft restraint system was ineffective as the engine transported the classic to multiple impacts with a utility pole.
Tow Bar Trauma
Leaving the tow bar on the nosewheel is an unfortunately common mistake made by pilots who disregard the time-honed adage, “The towbar is only on the airplane if it’s also in your hand.” The result is usually a prop strike or other indignity involving damage to the airplane and the pilot’s ego, although one pilot made it worse: A Piper Lance pilot learned that he’d joined the ranks of those who’d taken off with the tow bar attached when onlookers at the airport called him on the radio. He decided to deal with the issue by returning for a landing. However, he also decided to approach over some trees as low as possible. Apparently unhappy about the pilot’s decision, the trees fought back, snagging the dangling tow bar, and pulling the airplane out of the sky.
Ya Gotta Focus
The takeoff segment of a flight requires that a pilot focus on the process and evaluate its progress, so we had to wonder about the ag pilot launching with a full load in a Cessna A188 and the rudder gust lock still firmly attached. Discovering that he could not deflect the rudder during the takeoff roll in the tailwheel machine, he decided to steer by using the brakes, evidently not recognizing that brakes would not help counter P factor once the tires were no longer on the ground.
Loss of control after liftoff proved not to be the issue he faced. It seems that the drag caused by brake use so lengthened the takeoff run that he was unable to climb over the seven-foot-tall corn at the end of the runway. The helpful stalks wrapped around the gear, arresting his forward motion, and preventing a torque roll to inverted.
Focus, We Mean It, Focus
Climbing out after takeoff in an RV-4, the pilot’s cellphone started ringing. He spent some time looking down at the cellphone, which was on the floor. When he looked up, the airplane was nearly inverted. His attempt to recover into a wings level climb was interrupted by ground impact.
Focus, Take 3
Taking off after a refueling stop in a Mooney M20TN, and before retracting the gear, the pilot looked down to adjust the engine mixture and his oxygen nose piece. He discovered that he hadn’t established a positive rate of climb about the time that the right main slammed into the runway at an estimated speed of 150 knots. The gear collapsed, ending the flight.
Maybe Ya Wanna Fix That?
It was a dark, overcast night, and the airspeed indicator was inop. Undaunted our determined aviator launched his Cessna 150 toward another airport, intending to fly by “reference to engine rpm and the vertical speed indicator.” On final at his destination and, “sensing that he was high,” he selected full flaps and reduced power. Feeling that he was “at the proper height above the surface” at the runway threshold, he closed the throttle and “flared slightly too early” as he passed the numbers, “striking the surface too firmly and too fast.” (His word choice was subsequently nominated for the understatement of the week award.)
The airplane bounced, departed the runway, returned to the runway and then, still smoking along, “veered rapidly off the side of the runway (once again) about 800 feet beyond the threshold.” The 150 eventually came to a stop some distance away with badly damaged wings.
Where Did I Put That Speaker?
Upon turning the Icon A5 amphibian LSA into the wind for a takeoff on a Minnesota lake, the pilot moved the throttle from the quiet setting to full volume. Some five seconds later he heard a “loud bang” and the pusher propeller blades separated, penetrating the fuselage, and causing substantial damage. The pilot then remembered that he’d previously put a portable speaker atop the cabin (in front of the prop) so he could listen to tunes before going flying.
I Don’t Need No Steenkin’ CFI
While studying online with the intent of becoming a sport pilot sometime in the future, the uncertificated pilot purchased a Rans S-6 Coyote. We can see this one coming—the accident flight was his first. Aware of a crosswind and the ground dropping away near the end of his selected departure field, he stated that he intended to take off, turn into the wind and climb.
After the dust cleared, he stated that the airplane climbed faster than he anticipated, and the wind turned him away from his desired path. He did not recall anything else. Video (of course there’s video—this was a first flight, and there’s social media to be fed) showed the airplane climbing, then the left wing dropping as an incipient spin developed prior to impact.
No Steenkin’ CFI Mark II
A student pilot urgently desiring to give a friend a ride in a Beechcraft Skipper launched on what was intended to be a cross-country flight. Shortly after takeoff the aircraft entered instrument meteorological conditions. The pilot elected to climb. Unfortunately, upon breaking out of the tops, he observed a tree-covered mountain top directly ahead of the aircraft. He stalled the airplane into the trees, which cushioned its eventual impact with the ground, allowing both occupants to walk away without injuries.
It’s Not Always the Pilot
During cruise in a Cirrus SR22, the pilot and rear-seat passenger unbuckled their seat belts to retrieve dropped objects from behind the pilot’s seat. Attempting to help, the right-seat passenger sought to adjust their seat out of the way by grabbing the convenient stick ahead and to the right of the seat for leverage. The inputs to what turned out to be a control stick caused the aircraft to climb and descend violently several times, bouncing the passenger off of the ceiling, injuring him and shaking up the pilot.
Keeping it in the Family
After launching in a Cessna 120, the pilot observed a family member working in an adjacent field and decided that it was time for a flyby to say hi. He followed up on his intent but, upon completion of the flyby, banked the airplane rather than pitching up. The airplane’s left wing contacted the ground, followed shortly by the propeller and then the right wing and fuselage as the flying machine slid to a stop. Neither family member was injured; the record did not disclose the nature of any comments made at the next family gathering.
Engine, Heal Thyself
About 15 minutes into flight, the engine of a Quad City Challenger “stopped” abruptly. The pilot landed without incident in a hay field. He then made an examination of the aircraft and engine and found nothing to be wrong. (Um, hey! the engine just quit.) He hit the starter and the engine ran. Apparently believing in the cosmic power of engine self-healing, the pilot firewalled the throttle and the airplane departed from the hay field. Shortly thereafter, the engine again quit. This forced landing did not go as well, and the airplane was substantially damaged. A subsequent, more careful, examination of the engine revealed that the number 1 cylinder and piston had suffered severe damage due to lack of lubrication following the pilot’s maintenance in that area two weeks earlier.
Get In, It’ll Run Just Fine
The pilot of a Cessna 206, along with five passengers, departed on a cross-country flight immediately after an annual inspection. (Um, first flight after maintenance … VFR, solo, local, maybe?) The engine began running roughly, the EGT of the number two cylinder dropped and the airspeed decreased by 23 knots. The pilot elected to soldier on at the reduced airspeed. The roughness increased, causing the pilot to land to have a mechanic investigate. He discovered that the airport had no mechanics available, so he decided to refuel and depart. He aborted the first takeoff because he felt “a slight hesitation in engine power.” He continued the second takeoff to an altitude of 250 feet AGL, at which time the engine quit for good. We are wondering what the pilot told the passengers to convince them to get back in the airplane after the first landing. Maybe it was a family thing.
Extra Speed on Final
Approaching an upsloping runway, the Citabria pilot said he carried extra airspeed to have enough “energy to flare.” That energy carried him down the runway until he touched down with a grand total of 300 feet remaining. You know what’s coming—he went off the end and applied the brakes so hard that he flipped the airplane.
I Thought You Had It
Intending to calibrate newly installed avionics in an RV-6, the aircraft owner occupied the right seat with another pilot, acting as PIC, in the left. Once aloft, the PIC handed off the controls to the owner requesting that he fly two 360s while the PIC calibrated equipment. The owner then relinquished the controls to the PIC who made pitch changes to check on the functioning of the g-meter.
After that, and deciding to return to the airport, each occupant thought that the other was flying. The airplane impacted the ground twice. After each impact, the PIC pitched up, but then let go of the controls, presuming to defer to the owner. As the airplane approached the ground for the third time, the owner called for the PIC to pull up. Too late. The aircraft hit the ground for a third time and flipped.
What Aviation’s All About
Prior to takeoff on a dual instructional flight, the CFI indicated the crowd at the airport café to the student and told him to make a short-field takeoff to “show them what aviation is all about.” As the student began to pitch for best angle of climb after liftoff, he felt the instructor pull on the control stick even though the CFI had not initiated positive transfer of the controls. The airplane then “veered left” before the CFI pushed the nose down. Shortly after that control input the aircraft struck a berm and cartwheeled, showing the café crowd what aviation is all about.
