(aluminum) skin deep

I've given you a modicum of insight into the character of the pilots whom I habitually hang with, and the people you're likely to meet at an airport.

But thus far I've said nothing about the character of the airplanes.

And trust me, airplanes have a lot of character.

Every car on the road has its idiosyncracies. A unique temperament, a spark of hauteur or rebellion or jocularity, a private set of pet peeves. Dare we suggest...a personality?

Airplanes are like that, too. Only their personalities are more noticeable, existing as they do in three dimensions, rather than a motorcar's mere two.

Some airplanes hate to climb.
Some can't grab the air fast enough.
Some planes refuse to come down.
Some drop like rocks.
Some planes wobble a bit on turbulent days.
Some of them wobble a lot.
Some birds cough and sputter at low throttle and mixture settings.
Some of them run smooth as butter on any power setting.

Maybe the radio won't come on unless you flip the switch just right. Maybe you have to drop the nose a little bit to raise the gear. Maybe you have to pump the priming handle just one more time, or pull the mixture just a little farther out, or keep the key on IGNITION and your hand on the throttle and sit there sweating for ten seconds while the prop rotates aimlessly and the electrical system buzzes and every naughty word your mother ever scolded you for saying streaks through your head before the engine finally starts.

Every plane is different.

The fun part is figuring out those differences.

My company retains two Mooneys (E-models, circa 1966-67) for chase operations out here in the Mojave Desert. Sit back and I'll tell you a little bit about them. 

N214SH: We call her "Sierra Hotel" for short. She was our flagship airplane, a mostly standard Mooney M20E. She's got an autopilot (doesn't work), manually-operated landing gear (Johnson bar, very reliable) and we've had a few extra gauges put in to watch our engine temperature. Like most Mooneys, she's maneuverable, fuel-efficient, fast, and tough. Mooney airframes are built to withstand 3.8 Gs, which comes in handy when the thermals are kicking up over the desert. Unfortunately, in regards to the type of flying we do, the Mooney airframe has some drawbacks. The wings are so wide and stiff that they catch every little molecule of air that blows under them, so the effects of thermals and turbulence are magnified twofold. 

Having said that Sierra Hotel is "mostly standard," I should explain what that means. In hot weather, she don't climb too well. In cold weather, she climbs like a homesick angel. She'll cruise at about 120 miles per hour, and can do up to 180 if we're descending into Apple Valley from 10,000 feet. She does her job quite well, if not exactly flashily. 

N3480X: Our second airplane, direct from Colorado. Nicknamed "X-Ray," it had recently had its engine replaced when we took possession. X-Ray is...a little different from Sierra Hotel. She has speed-mods. The windshield is swept back for a more aerodynamic profile, the propeller is scimitar-shaped, and the controls are just...well, tighter. X-Ray is a precision instrument, built to move. She cruises at slightly higher velocities than Sierra Hotel, and is somewhat more agile in the air. I got my first taste of this when Mr. Mooney threw X-Ray into a two-G three-sixty the first day we took her out on a mission. Once I'd retrieved my stomach and peeled my eyeballs off the back of my throat, I had to admit that X-Ray was something more of a "hot rod" than Sierra Hotel.

And now for the pet peeves.

Hot rod though she may be, X-Ray's comm panel is set up inconveniently. You can listen to the first radio (Comm 1) and the second radio (Comm 2) at the same time. You can also talk on Comm 2 and monitor Comm 1 in the background. But for some reason, when you transmit on Comm 1, Comm 2 cuts out. So we have to leave the knob on Comm 2 while we're in the air, constantly, and switch to Comm 1 whenever we want to talk on it (and hope that the people on Comm 2 don't say anything important while that's going on). It's a bit of a pain, to be honest. Sierra Hotel has no such problems. Comm 1 and Comm 2 can be monitored and transmitted on indiscriminately.

Sierra Hotel's ventilation system is terrible, though. X-Ray's used to be the same way, but in desperation we've pried the ventilation hatch open with strong steel wire and now we have the whole slipstream blowing through the vents on us. Given X-Ray's better climb profile, the Green Machine is the preferred vehicle for chase operations, even if seasoned pilots like Dawg and JM-2 are more comfortable in Sierra Hotel.

Did I say "Green Machine"?

Haha, I haven't told you about paint jobs yet, have I?

Airplanes come in...a variety of colors. Obviously you can't go completely crazy with the skin on your old bird. There are FAA regulations regarding color and placement of registration numbers and so forth. But there is some wiggle room. And often, pilots choose to wiggle in the wrong direction.

Mr. Mooney's personal Mooney (not one of our company planes) used to belong to a dentist. I find this nothing short of hilarious, seeing as how Mr. Mooney's personal Mooney is stark white with a turquoise stripe running down the side. It looks like a giant tube of toothpaste sitting on the tarmac. Apparently this dentist let his wife pick the color scheme, which is always a sound course of action in my book.

One of the pilots who flies out of Apple Valley (an acquaintance of JM-2's; I'll call him "Mack") flies a Cessna 172 with large red and yellow patches overlying a white undercoat. Mack nicknamed his plane "Carls Junior," acknowledging the paint job's blatant similarity to ketchup and mustard.

I've seen airplanes the color of boiled asparagus. Neutral colors and pastels mixed without remorse. Shamelessly cheerful shades of royal blue, lime green, banana yellow, and cherry red, often in some gag-inducing combo.

N3480X is no exception. You can almost immediately tell that the plane was a product of the late 1960s, for its color scheme is a sort of light tan, underscored by slate grey and forest green stripes down the sides and on the wings.

Tan, grey, and green. Who let that plane out of the hangar?

Sierra Hotel's color scheme is far more dignified. Its upper half and wings are white. The lower portions are light grey, and the two primary colors are separated by a thin maroon stripe running down the side. Maroon is also the chief color on the tail, giving the airplane a sort of roguish air. As an added bonus, the paint scheme closely matches our company colors.

Every plane has its quirks, from the way it looks to the way it flies. As with human beings, I've learned not to trust my eyes, and look past the surface. A plane spattered in incongruous hues and beaten with an ugly stick still might be the best-flying machine at the airport. Likewise, the immaculate white stallion parked by the ramp might be the most clumsy, awkward, tricky beast you've ever flown.

Beauty is only (aluminum) skin deep.

Well, except for this. This is just "plane" awesome...