By John Wyman, EAA 462533, Chapter 266 Montreal
I have talked to friends and colleagues on several occasions about starting airplane projects — be it a whole airplane or just some repairs to what they already own. It always starts out with a few questions and then we get into the nitty-gritty of the job and how long they can expect the build/repair to take. I come straight out and say that I have never attempted a complete build because I find just keeping what I have flying to be a bucket full! I like to err on the side of anything taking a really long time (multiply by pi and then some), which leads them to cite that this pamphlet or that magazine says that it normally takes 1,000 to 2,000 hours or so to complete — to which I say, “Hmmm? You might look closer to some of the other builders out there that say it takes substantially more time to build an airplane.” I’ll point out that over the years there have been many a designer that says that their kit is easy to build, but that in reality, this is far from the truth. Probably the best example of that was the BD-5 which initially was said, by Jim Bede himself, “that after about 300-400 hours the average builder could be ready to fly.” (From the Smithsonian website — www.si.edu). In reality, this is easily multiplied by 10 and then some with most of the BD-5s out there never completed because of a lack of a suitable powerplant from the beginning of the airplane’s conception. Putting any engine in that airplane was a nightmare of a balancing act. Very few of the kits even reached whole, finished airframes. In the end, it’s probably the worst example to use as a comparison to today’s modern kits, but it is still a great example of the misconceptions of the actual time it takes to build an airplane.
Most recently, I was deadheading on a flight, when I was seated next to a young pilot (24) who was a relatively new hire with an airline. We got talking about building airplanes, and again, he was one of many who thought that an airplane can be built in a year or two of part-time work. We talked of the many models out there from RVs to Custom Cubs, Rans designs, Sonexes, amphibians, etc. Ultimately, he said that his heart rested on building a Cub-like design that would be good for off-strip flying, like beachheads, with big tundra tires and horsepower to get in and out of tight spots. His biggest influence was YouTuber Mike Patey of Draco, Turbulence, and Scrappy airplane fame, the latter being his favourite of the three. I listened to Mike’s interview recently on the archives of The Green Dot podcast. It was inspiring. When our flight was over, I left with three words, “Just get started…” with the hope that he’d take the words to heart as it ultimately takes a long time to do anything. That particularly rings true to me today, as I am working on fixing three airplanes simultaneously, all three being ONLY repaired to fly, and not complete scratchbuilt projects.
All this got me thinking of how my dad was always drawn into any one of my projects over the years. He’d start with a shell of something or other and then get into it by doing something, and then learn along the way whether or not that initial cut, weld, rivet, glue joint, jig was the way to go, or not? More often than not, the job would get “modified” once something was laid down and then switched up to accommodate the “change in plans” to the initial concept of what all the steps were. We wouldn’t spend too much time mulling over what to do — moreover, we’d get to it. Very seldom did this require scrapping the groundwork. More often he’d just say, “Well, instead of that, let’s do this…” It kind of always felt like we were working on our own little manned moon mission, and if we couldn’t make orbit, at least we had learned a lot about the launch and undoubtedly the next one would be a success! I think that’s how I have learned to do things over the years, always making/taking something to advance either the current project or the next one. We can see the same advances being made today with new kits and their remarkable progress like pre-punched skins and laser-cut parts — or even grander ones like SpaceX driving toward the heavens. Well, that may be a stretch to the homebuilding community, but I like to think that there’s still something in common there.
Two of those three projects I am talking about are wooden glider wings — the other is a metal and fabric Cessna 140 wing. Wood is an interesting medium, and I’m just revisiting now how tedious and time consuming it is compared to metal. I suppose it has been a few years since I last touched it. That was building a model airplane out of balsa wood. Smaller scale, same principle. Working with bigger pieces is similar — the adage, measure twice and cut once can easily be doubled given the cost of specialty wood these days — ditto for metals! Everything has climbed in price, especially fabrics and paints to complete the finished repair.
One of the problems of wood is waiting for the glue to dry. When you’re used to painting aluminum with zinc chromate and then riveting the parts together, this is a change of pace. The full cure time of T-88 (a high-performance structural epoxy) is 72 hours. A nice feature is a working time of 45 minutes and a mix ratio of 1:1 — pretty hard to mess up.
Making the parts is an exercise in patience. I am acutely aware that I don’t have much of it, but like watching glue dry, you learn to find other stuff to do. You have to think of your progress in terms of parts done, not completed structures. That’s the target at the end of the road. It’s best to forget about the fabric because that’s just an easy detail at the end.
Metal is a friendlier medium that’s quick and clean. Parts are harder to form but repairing them is pretty straight forward. Doublers riveted to broken ribs can extend their lifespan if done correctly. A recent check of Univair’s price lists will encourage you to give it your best shot before trashing them. Even the smallest of parts, material wise, can set you back hundreds of dollars, all of course in U.S. dollars. Ouch.
Deep down (and this is an intended pun), a metal structure’s worst enemy is corrosion because, if it’s prevalent enough, deeper secrets lie hidden from sight. In other words, a sign on the surface can represent worse things underneath — and that means removing skins and the like to get to where the rot lies. If it’s bad enough, then the brackets that hold on leading-edge weights (as an example) can jingle loose and cause in-flight flutter and control separation. Many ADs (airworthiness directive) or SBs (service bulletin) on different types of certified airplanes address this issue.
When you look at all the obstacles to starting a project, be it a repair, complete build, or just picking up a screwdriver, removing a panel, and having a look — sometimes, our biggest obstacle is ourselves not taking the initiative and starting what we think and deep down KNOW we can do. So if you’re considering starting something that feels slightly outside of your boundaries, but you want to do it anyway, like the poster hanging in my shop says, the only way to finish is to start. Jump into your job with your guns blazing and you’ll see, with a bit of research, and some advice, and a lot of patience and elbow grease, anything’s possible.
John Wyman, EAA 462533, Chapter 266 Montreal, is a passionate aviator. When he isn’t in the saddle at the airline, he can be found out at the airfield doing any number of things. He likes to fly gliders, practice aerobatics, work on airplanes, and fix stuff.