Hauling Steering Gears

I arrived at the hangar in Atlanta about eight p.m. and began my preflight which included the brief on my cargo, the weather in Decatur, AL and Lansing, MI making sure my airplane was ready to go. The auto companies must have been in dire straits as I was only going to pick up one stack of four pallets, about twenty total steering gears. It had been snowing in Decatur all afternoon and the forecast was for low ceilings, blowing snow, and a temperature of about twenty-five degrees. Decatur was a small airport located north of Birmingham right along the Tennessee River. It had no Tower and only a VOR approach. Instead of the ILS with an electronic beam, this approach would require me to fly overhead the airport in the clouds, turn outbound, fly a heading to correct for the cross wind, and at a specific mileage from the airport, turn back toward the runway and descend so as to be lined up with the runway and configured with the flaps down, landing gear down, in this case with all the heats on, and be in a position to land when I broke out of the clouds. There is a specific altitude that upon reaching, if the runway is not in sight, you climb back up, reverse everything that you did to land, and proceed to an alternate airport with better weather. In my case, the adrenalin was pumping; this was my first actual VOR approach, clouds all the way down to the minimum altitude, visibility reduced by snow, and an unknown runway condition. When I came out of the clouds, amazingly, there was the runway, straight ahead of me, but with a completely different sight picture from what I was used to. The reduced visibility, the wind, the illusion of a moving river of white snow dancing and darting across the runway as if it were being suctioned by a voracious vacuum cleaner were all new to me. I managed to keep my concentration and made a good landing. I distinctly remember turning off the runway, completing my after-landing checklist, and thinking to myself: what an incredible feat of airmanship I just completed, and nobody to witness or see it! The best was yet to come.

I taxied very slow and deliberate to the place where the truck was supposed to meet me. Of course, there was no one there, the ramp was completely dark, not any semblance of humanity, and most troubling of all, not a pay phone in sight, remember, this was way before cell phones. I parked the airplane and there was absolutely nothing to do but wait inside my airplane which was very rapidly cooling to the ambient temperature outside. More disconcerting, the snow was building up on my entire airframe with no hope of being able to de-ice. This was the culprit which could stop me or any airplane from being able to take off.

It was common for the parts suppliers to be notoriously late. They always gave the auto companies a time for delivery, disreputably never met that schedule, and invariably, then, the auto companies blamed the delay on us. Tonight, they were going to be lucky if they got their parts at all, if the supplier even made it to the airport. I had put on every piece of cold weather gear I owned and got out of the airplane to investigate the mounting snow and ice. Remarkably, the snow was very dry and although accumulating rapidly, it wasn’t sticking to the surfaces. I had a decision to make. About that time, I heard a noise and spotted a set of headlights which were being obscured by the snow. It turned out to be a forklift and the driver pulled up next to me, not daring to shut off his machine. He explained that the truck with the parts was behind him and should be here any minute. Well, at least I was at the right spot, and I had beat them there. The pickup truck with what seemed like a miniscule pallet of steering gears; shrink wrapped in plastic, pulled up next to the airplane. With an obvious desire to get this pallet unloaded, re-loaded onto my airplane, and get out of here as quickly as possible, his cohort hastily stuck his forks under the pallet, lifted it in a blur, and before I was ready, was pulling up to the cargo door on my airplane. It was a simple fit into the back door, and with what should have been an obvious clue to me, the airplane settled with the back end down and the nose up. I was miserable by now and reasoned that as soon as I climbed into the cockpit, my weight would counteract the weight in the back. Having been mentored profusely by my company brethren, I knew to spread the weight out evenly. In fact, I had numerous straps, nets; come alongs (winch’s), all to help me single handedly distribute this load. Now, in my infinite wisdom, I made the decision not to break the pallet down, perhaps just move it forward a bit to put the weight in the center of the airplane. The fork-lift dropped the pallet inside the door, the pickup driver handed me the paperwork which I carefully established matched what I had been previously told and upon which I had calculated a proper weight and balance and told me he would call my company to let them know I was on my way. I had intended to use their headlights to finish my loading, but lo and behold, all I saw were their taillights as they headed off into the gloom. Now I was really on my own.

Because I had parked the airplane so that all the blowing snow was coming directly into the open cargo door (brilliant), I had a real mess. I tried getting inside the airplane and closing the door, but it was too dark to work efficiently. It would have taken me probably twenty minutes to properly distribute that load, break it down, tie it down, and cover it with a net so that I would have never known it was back there. Guess what I did. Yep, left it right where it sat. I was so uncomfortably cold, upset that my “partners” who had delivered the freight had not offered to help, concerned about an airframe covered in snow needing to be cleared, the need to get my airplane airborne and deliver the freight to Lansing, that I made a very poor decision. My previous aborted takeoff in Albany with Dave was due to incorrect weights. Because of that, I made sure the weights were right, but I didn’t consider in that abort, we had tied the cargo down so well not a piece had moved. Apparently, that fact was lost on me.

After cleaning the airplane of snow, my objective was to get aboard, get the engines started, get some heat going, and get out of Decatur (much like my compatriots!). By now, the aura and dazzling brilliance of my approach one hour earlier were no longer even a faint memory. My mission was now to recall all my training (well evidently not all of it) and make sure I didn’t do something stupid on this departure. Airplanes need to take off and land into the wind. Since the wind was blowing across the runway but more on the nose for the southern runway, I would depart on the same runway I had landed, and once airborne, turn back to the north and on course for Lansing. What a masterful plan!

I managed to get both engines started, get my mind set, and start my taxi to the end of the runway. I remember thinking that there was no way anybody else would be dumb enough to be out flying on a night like this as I made my required callouts on the radio. I was able to communicate with Air Traffic Control in the form of a remote frequency on the ground and at least received a clearance to take off. There was certainly nobody on the airport and probably no airplane within 50 miles of me except maybe straight up. I can assure you I was apprehensive and on guard, but as composed as I could possibly be. I pulled onto the runway, gradually advanced the power, made my wind corrections, and started my takeoff run. All was well until I reached my rotation speed and pulled the yoke back for liftoff. The airplane initially started to climb normally. I was acutely aware that mere seconds after being airborne, I would enter the clouds and be flying strictly on instruments. Just as I broke ground and retracted the landing gear, a split second before entering the clouds, I simultaneously heard and felt my load shift. The pallet slid as far back as it could go, about three feet from where I had the forklift driver place it. Now that doesn’t seem like a lot but when you measure the center of gravity in inches, it is enormous. More worrying was the fact that my full aft load was now causing the rear end of the aircraft to seesaw down causing the nose to seesaw up. Had I not intervened, the nose would have continued up, and the airplane would have stalled (meaning the wing angle to forward flight would have been too high to keep flying). I knew immediately what had happened and I also knew that the only way out of this was to push the yoke forward to counteract the aft center of gravity. I was pushing on the yoke for all I was worth, and the airplane was just barely maintaining controlled flight. It was however, climbing away from the ground, and I had sense enough to keep the wings level while all of this was occurring. There is no doubt that the cold weather played a big role as well since cold air is more dense and provides better performance. At any rate, it quickly became apparent that this forward pressure was going to require more leverage than I could muster sitting normally in my seat, so I quickly sat back and put my feet up on the yoke. I could easily hold the yoke full forward as far as it would go and actually keep the wings level at the same time using my feet. Now this solved my immediate problem of providing more nose down elevator than the aft weight commanded but it was just barely counteracting the weight and I was merely sustaining flight straight ahead. I knew I was heading towards Birmingham, and I had about fifteen minutes before I would be detected on Birmingham radar and have to explain myself. At the same time, my clearance from Atlanta Center (Air Traffic Control) dictated that I turn north, notify them when I was airborne, and climb to some altitude I don’t remember above ten thousand feet where they would be able to get me in radar contact. Somehow, I needed to turn this airplane around and head north where no one could see me. Sound familiar? Having been airborne about five minutes by now, I had managed to climb approximately fifteen hundred feet but was still in the clouds and my next concern was icing. Ice is weight and if I added any additional weight, it was not going to help my situation. I used my feet to keep pushing forward on the yoke but also to start a very slow right turn. I found that if I really concentrated, moved very slowly but deliberately, I could control the airplane with my feet. Now, I was consumed by getting this turn complete and had not even considered what I was going to do once I got it turned around. Luckily, the ground was relatively flat around Decatur, and I didn’t have to contend with any terrain or mountains. I told Atlanta Center that I was going to remain below ten thousand feet and would call them later. Luckily, they couldn’t see me!

Finally, about ten minutes into my ordeal, I had managed a complete a half turn and was headed north. I didn’t dare change a thing as at least I was still climbing slowly, semi under control, but without a plan. Within the next five minutes or so, I realized that the nose was starting to lower quite considerably, and my airspeed was slowly, slowly starting to accelerate. The next positive action was unexpected as I popped out of the clouds. I couldn’t see anything but stars, but I must admit nothing had ever looked so good. I was soon able to put my feet down and control the airplane normally using my hands and the trim wheel…the thing that saved me on takeoff out of Lakeland when my seat slid back! This eventually allowed me to turn on the autopilot and for the first time catch my breath. I was sweating profusely. I knew I now had to fix my weight and balance problem somehow. Right behind my seat, was a bag that contained all the straps and a come along. My altitude was somewhere around eight or nine thousand feet (can’t remember exactly), but high enough that I had some altitude to play with. Whatever I chose to do, it would mean having to get out of the seat and connect a strap to the pallet. I was scared to death that if I added my weight by going to the back of the airplane, it might disconnect the autopilot and snap the nose up uncontrollably. I now had another problem to solve.

I also had to work quickly as I would soon be getting into much busier airspace near Nashville and would either have to be in a controlled state of flight or fess up. I managed to get the straps out of the bag and decided that I was only going to use one. I attached a metal ring to the seat rail directly behind my seat and then connected the come along to that. The straps already had a ratchet on them but would require much more attention than the come along which I could operate one handed from my seat while facing forward and monitoring the airplane. I attached one long strap to the come along, locked the ratchet mechanism, and had the other end of the strap with a hook laid out beside me. The pallet was made of industrial strength plastic and had handles on four sides. I now planned to take the strap back to the pallet, run it through the handle, bring it back forward and connect it to the come along. I would then be able to winch the entire pallet forward with one hand and keep it in place with the tension on the strap. It still wouldn’t be tied down but at least it would be in the middle of the center of gravity envelope and if I made a smooth landing in Lansing without using a lot of brakes, I ought to be able to get away with it. Now I needed to get that strap through the handle.

I tested my come along and it was working fine. I disconnected the autopilot to see how much force was required to keep the nose down. Compared to my initial climb out, there was no resemblance. I knew it was not likely that the autopilot would hold while I was back there, but I only intended to be there a second, then rush right back forward. If it did disconnect, I could only hope that it would be docile and not instantaneous with some kind of unwanted reaction. I had to hurry so I gave it no more thought and got out of my seat. I was going to inch back slowly so that, if need be, I could hoist myself forward. As I got halfway, I could feel the airplane straining against my weight, but the autopilot did not disconnect. I could now stretch out and just reach the handle on the pallet. I ran the strap through the handle and immediately pulled the hook forward to the come along. The autopilot held! I was able to get back in my seat, feet on the floor, turn around and use both hands. My plan worked beautifully, and the pallet slowly moved forward with each pump of the come along. In less than five minutes, I had the pallet in the middle of the cabin, plenty of tension on the strap, and I could metaphorically feel the airplane breathe a huge sigh of relief. It actually became stable and accelerated to normal speed. I was spent but couldn’t let my guard down now as I still had an entire flight to manage as well as make a perfect landing. I also needed to identify myself to Air Traffic Control as the freighter that just departed from Decatur on a routine flight to Lansing. Please note that on this night, at this particular time, I had pretty much exercised my entire career portfolio of indiscretions! The only proud thing I have to say is that I never repeated any of them! While I can’t say that this was the last one, I can still say today that I’ve never repeated a “learning experience”. There now, that sounds better, doesn’t it?