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This year’s issues of AOPA Pilot magazine
have a new contest listed on the membership application card. Instead of
what has happened in recent years, where the organization has given away
planes that were better than new, or the first new, AOPA will have as its
prize a classic Piper Tri-Pacer. This will be quite a change for an
association that usually gives the appearance of being interested in higher
and faster, with flight tests of speedy retractables, powerful twins, and
the occasional turbo prop being splashed across the monthly journal’s
pages. This month’s advertisement claims the Tri-Pacer is the ”perfect
airplane to show how inexpensive and enjoyable flying can be.” It is about
time a major voice for general aviation came out in support of grassroots
flying, and for the joys a simple airplane can give. It will be fun to
watch over the year to see the progress as AOPA prepares next year’s grand
prize.
I got my hands on a Tri-Pacer today.
Actually, it was a PA22/20, a Tri-Pacer that had been converted to its
original tail-dragger configuration. Piper’s first effort after World War
II for four seat airplane started out with what were essentially short Piper
Cub wings attached to a stubby fuselage with snug seating for four. This
plane, called the Clipper, was a bit underpowered, but the airframe showed
great promise. Piper eventually made some improvements to the interior and
added more power under the cowl, to come up with the Pacer. With the Pacer,
Piper had a good solid cross country airplane, that looked good and flew
well, but there was still one area that could be improved in many pilot’s
minds, so Piper took the final plunge by removing the tailwheel, rearranging
the main gear, and adding a nose wheel, to create the Tri-Pacer. With a
nose wheel, the plane was as easy to handle on the ground as it was in the
air, but the one major downside is that with the new upright stance for such
a short airplane, the Tri-Pacer garnered a new sobriquet; the “flying milk
stool.” To a pilot in the right frame of mind, the Tri-Pacer does look a
bit funny with its tall, close coupled landing gear. In fact, the plane
looked so much better before the gear change, that many owners have gone to
the trouble of converting factory manufactured Tri-Pacers back to
taildragger configuration, and my Tri-Pacer for today had had that
conversion.
N7018B was painted creme yellow over all with
bold red trim stripes on the fuselage sides and tail. The registration
markings were applied in the classic style with huge numbers on top of the
wing and on the bottom, and little numbers on each side of the rudder.
Harkening back to when the plane was new, the owner had even applied old
Civil Air Patrol chevrons on the wings and fuselage sides. All in all, the
outside of this plane looked just as though it came out of the factory
yesterday. The 160 HP Lycoming engine was very tidily installed with little
of the mess often found in engine compartments. The interior was finished
in attractive dark red leather upholstery, the one downside being that with
the overall nice appearance of the plane, the windows themselves could have
used some polishing, or something, to make them easier to see out of.
Tri-Pacers never were blessed with overly large windows, and combining that
fact with plastic that wasn’t too clear, vision was less than optimum. Not
to worry, everything else looked fine. It was time to fly.
I clambered in through the right hand front
door and settled into the pilot’s seat; it seemed familiar as well it might
as the first plane I ever rode in as a child was one of the first Tri-Pacers
back in the 1950’s. A few years ago, I was able get a little stick time in
a Pacer, which was enough to ease any worries about today’s flight.
We rose into a brittle blue winter sky, the
Pacer and I.
The air was crystal clear and it seemed as
though I could see forever. California’s mountains present a magnificent
picture this time of year with snow topped peaks lined up one after the
other from just north of the Los Angeles basin until they march past Lake
Tahoe and on into Oregon, clouds along their flanks and frigid white
windblown wisps stretching from the very crests out toward the eastern high
country. West of the mountains, the Central Valley is shrouded and fog and
mist in mid-winter and visibilities this time of year can usually be
measured in yards rather the miles. Today, I had no trouble seeing
anything, with Shafter just to the northwest of town, Tejon Pass splitting
the ridge at the south end of the valley and the ever-increasing urban
sprawl of our community below. And, the clear air was so still it seemed
almost as though the plane was held by an invisible hand, steadying the
flight, and insuring a smooth ride. What a day to fly.
The Piper Pacer is a nice plane to fly; the
visibility is limited but normal for an older aircraft, and the controls,
while not perfectly balanced, work easily, and get the job done. With
160HP, the plane climbs well and cruises reasonably fast, making for a fine
cross-country machine. The idea today was not cross-country flight however;
it was time to get crazy, to see just what the plane would do, maybe even
see just what the pilot could do. With the plane level, even though the
ground seemed an arm's reach away, we pitched up nice and steeply and then
rolled over into a big effortless wingover. No big deal. With the power
pulled back till the engine was just ticking over, we slowed down till the
wings began to waggle, and then quit flying completely; the nose dropped
down for a quick stall recovery. Again; no big deal. I have heard people
say the Pacer can be a handful, but that perception might be suspect. With
reasonable attention to what he is doing, any pilot should find the
short-wing Piper a fun airplane to fly. This little Pacer was doing all it
could do, and was definitely showing me a good time. In times gone by, I
found great enjoyment in doing aerobatics in Citabrias, and while the Pacer
is not rated for such things, as long as the forces on the airframe are not
excessive, the airplane should never know that it is upside down. With full
power, up came the nose one more time, at first a bit above the horizon,
then higher until nothing could be seen but the sky above, then up and over
the top, for a moment weightless, and then the plane started back down, "G"
forces building up till my arms felt heavy, with nothing but ground filling
the view till finally sky once more showed its bright face above the
horizon. Oh, how I love to do loops! Immediately, the nose came up a bit
and the plane rolled to the left, controls hard against the stops, and as we
went inverted the yoke went forward a bit to keep the nose above the
horizon, but right away, the yoke came back again as we rolled level, all
the while keeping the spinner seemingly attached to a point in the distance.
Any safe airplane can fly in a normal
attitude; in fact modern planes are designed to be stable when they are
upright, and while they easily can be turned from one side to the other,
most flights stay well within accepted, normal, and non-aerobatic limits.
What a shame that is the case, for taking excursions into unusual attitudes
is some of the most exciting time a pilot might ever experience. With
enough practice, the whole notion of unusual attitudes becomes moot, as
there is no reason why straight and level, upside down, could not be usual.
For years, I have pushed airplanes a bit into the realm beyond sixty degrees
of bank, and to situations where the view of the horizon out the side window
was more perpendicular to the wing surface than it was parallel, each time
trying to get the most out of my ride. Today's ride was no different, so
once more, up came the nose, this time entering into a big old barrel roll
to the left. Just as we were at the top of the roll, the yoke went rapidly
forward, the right rudder pedal all the way to the floor, and the plane
tumbled into a Lomcevak as the outside snap roll in the midst of a barrel
roll was just too much to ask for any airplane that was trying to maintain
its composure. The windscreen was filled with wild views, and the plane
seemed gyrate around its axis for ever; actually we went end-over-end only
once before recovery to that old familiar straight and level attitude. Could
this be real?! There is no doubt this was the way flying should be! With
an engine growling away up front, a responsive airplane falling readily to
hand, and a slightly irresponsible pilot in charge, we were ready for
anything.
South of town, the fields stretch on for
miles, with one of them being the grass strip where we used to go to get our
old plane serviced. The Pacer seemed to do almost anything commanded; it
flew with precision and authority, making it seem almost military in its
manner. Low over the grass strip, we rolled into a final approach, setting
up for a strafing run down the runway. I saw faces on the ground turn our
way, mouths agape, as we flew just above the surface, the motor racing at
the redline. Past the hanger, I pulled back on the yoke, and the horizon
dropped away and the “G” forces built up. The light streamed in the
windscreen as the nose went ever higher; up until the top of the cowling was
just passing through vertical. In the back of my head, I heard a voice
saying: “Stop!, stop!” The plane faltered. The insistent voice kept
calling, and the Pacer slowed until it would climb no more, and then slowly,
but ever so inevitably, we came crashing down back to earth. The voice was
finally more clear. “Billy, stop playing. Put that model down and come to
supper-- now!”
I looked at the model in my hands, its slender
plastic wings so very small, but still with a shape that shows what a good
airplane is all about. I gently set the little Pacer down, got up from my
workbench, and went into the dining room. It was time for the evening meal,
but in the back of my mind, I could still feel the power of the engine, and
smell the hot metal with odors of oil, dope, and fresh air mixed in. I
still was flying the Pacer, enjoying each moment again, and it was fun.
Maybe in the not too far distant future, the dreams will come true. Maybe
this time next year, the phone will ring one night and say the AOPA Timeless
Tri-Pacer is coming to Bakersfield. I would like that.
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