Flight Training - July 2013 - 23

FLIGHT LESSON

By Charles D. Haynes
FLIGHT LESSON offers the
opportunity for pilots to learn
from the experiences of others.

AIRPLANES CAN WALK

LEARN AND USE PROPER TIE-DOWN PROCEDURES

T

his story isn’t about narrowly averting disaster in flight, but
rather a bone-headed mistake on terra firma that caused a lot
of angst, self-loathing, repair charges, and a lifelong change
of habit.
Before landing, I made a low pass over
the local field operations office, and an
employee arrived at Rudder’s to take me
to the well site about 10 miles away. I had
arrived at the airstrip in late afternoon,
preparing for an all-nighter on the drilling
rig, so we got busy taking well logs and
rock cores to evaluate what was eventually a very nice oil well. Around 2 a.m., I
saw lightning and heard thunder off to
the west—in the direction of Rudder’s.
There was no way to get back to check
on the airplane at that time, and I had no
tie-downs anyway, but the parking brake
had been set so the airplane with its load
of avgas should be enough to hold it in
place—or so I thought.
Putting concerns about the Cessna
aside, I continued to work through the
morning, completed the paperwork, and
returned to Rudder’s around noon to
be greeted by a disgusting sight. During
the course of the thunderstorm, which
had obviously passed over the store, the
Cessna had “walked” down the hill about
50 feet, backing into a small tree. It was

JULY 2013 FLIGHT TRAINING

/ 23

ALEX WILLIAMSON

My career was in oil and gas operations, providing engineering and
management services for small producing areas across the United States. A
reason for choosing this career was to
satisfy my flying habit. Flying backcountry instead of pounding the pavement
enabled me to stretch my working day
and fly to my heart’s content. Starting
with a Cessna 120, I had worked up to
a brand-new IFR Cessna 180 and had
a Robertson STOL kit and Stormscope
installed shortly afterward. I had arrived
among the elite of backcountry fliers.
One summer day in 1982, I flew the
Skywagon to a rural location in southwest Alabama to evaluate an oil well. My
standard procedure at this location was
to land at an abandoned crop duster strip,
initially flat but going uphill behind Rudder’s General Store. It was one way in and
out, but the hill was useful to arrest the
landing roll and speed up the departure.
Mr. Rudder was glad to see his airstrip
being used again and kept it in good
shape for me.

sporting a neat U-shaped dent about six
inches long in the trailing edge of the left
elevator. So here I was with a bent bird, a
long way from the nearest FBO.
With no cellphones available in 1982, I
returned to the office and called Lawrence, the chief mechanic at an FBO I
often used, and explained the situation
to him. He asked if some two-by-four
wooden blocks and a hammer were
available. Well, yes, they were handy—so
I followed his instructions, hammered
the dent as flat as possible between the
wooden blocks, and checked the elevator
and its hinges for proper movement. Then
it was time for the main event: flying it out
of Rudder's. With some dread, I turned
the ’Wagon around, did a runup, taxied
up the hill, and launched. With no fuss it
was flying, so I made a gentle left turn in
Lawrence’s direction, gingerly moving the
controls, and flew on with control-surface
flutter in the back of my mind.
Nothing fell off, no flutter occurred,
and no heroics were necessary to keep
a barely controllable airplane in the air.
After about 10 minutes of routine flying,
I was calmer, the angst had receded, and
I landed at the FBO about an hour later.
Upon inspecting the damage, Lawrence
said that I didn’t need to flatten the dent,
as the Cessna probably wouldn’t know the
difference. Did I overreact at Rudder’s?
Who knows, but I was safe at the FBO, so
nothing else mattered.
A repair was made in short order and
we continued our backcountry flights for
several years, until I replaced the Skywagon with a Maule M–6. I bought the
best set of tiedowns available and always
had them aboard just in case.
Some 30 years later and retired from
the oilfield scene, my Piper J–3 Cub also
carries a set of tiedowns in the luggage
sack behind my seat, rarely used but
ready if the wind comes up during one
of the $50 pancake breakfasts we regularly attend.
So here’s the moral of my story: Always
carry a set of first-class tiedowns with you
and beware the “walking airplane.”
Flight Training - July 2013

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Flight Training - July 2013
