I met Dan, the Chief CFI for the Clemson University Flying Club, through my extensive flying with the Yellow Jacket Flying Club in Atlanta. Dan and his student Mike flew to our two clubs’ first joint fly-in in Mike's Luscombe. I was intrigued by the charming little airplane but didn't know or learn much about it that day. Dan did give me his card, complete with a picture of his own pretty silver and maroon Luscombe on it and an invitation: "Learn to Fly a Taildragger!" After my first flight in the Cessna 140, I immediately dug out Dan's card and gave him a call. We scheduled my first lesson for a Saturday in April a few weeks later.
The morning sky was smooth, cool, and clear. Armed with a club airplane, I excitedly departed DeKalb-Peachtree along with two of my friends, Lars and Chase, in the general direction of Clemson. Finding Clemson from the air is as easy as falling off a log; the Appalachians off to the left and I-85 on the right funneled us right into Oconee County’s airspace. The grasping fingers of Lake Hartwell wrap around the airport almost as if pointing to the runway. Visibility was unlimited and we spotted the airport almost twenty miles out. We joined the left-hand pattern for runway 7 and made our approach.
As we tied down, Dan headed our way in his usual Hawaiian shirt, sandals, and bushy beard. Eager to show off our ride, we greeted each other with smiles and handshakes all around. Dan kindly reminded us that it was non-standard right-hand traffic for runway 7. There went my pride as a newly minted hot-shot CFI!
Dan showed us around the terminal and then walked us over toward the rows of hangars lining the taxiway. As we turned in after the first row, there it was: his gleaming 1946 Luscombe 8A, quietly basking in the sun. We were agog as Dan showed us around the airplane, pointing out its intricacies while also painting the picture of the airplane's storied past from development to present day.
In 1927, Don Luscombe formed a business with some associates to design the Monocoupe—an airplane advanced for its day with side-by-side seating in an enclosed cockpit. Luscombe broke ties with the Monocoupe six years later and started his own business, the Luscombe Aircraft Corporation. From that company sprouted one of the most influential light airplanes ever built—the Luscombe 8. Don Luscombe focused on making his airplanes inexpensive, light, and simple to manufacture. His all-metal monocoque design was revolutionary. With the same 65-horsepower Continental motor, the Luscombe 8 was 15 mph faster than a Piper Cub or Aeronca Champ.
Dan explained how many pilots consider the Luscombe squirrely and hard to handle, but he painted a different picture—one of an efficient, responsive little airplane that does exactly what it is told with minimal effort. We discussed the airplane's characteristics: its healthy dose of adverse yaw, short coupled landing gear setup, and the less-than-ideal heel brakes common on airplanes of that day. Dan explained the details of proper hand propping and then helped me buckle in for our first flight of air work.
I turned on the fuel valve and Dan pulled the Continental A65 through a few blades. I recited the verbiage he had taught: "brakes on, fuel on, mags hot, throttle cracked." He pulled the prop through one more blade and the little A65 kicked to life. The puttering sound of an idling A65 is intoxicating—it’s almost as good as a radial!
As the engine settled into a steady rhythm, we reviewed the automated weather on Dan’s handheld radio and I taxied to the runway. The Luscombe has surprisingly good visibility over the nose while on the ground and I didn't have to worry about weaving as in most taildraggers. It also has positive tailwheel steering that engages and disengages itself. To point the airplane into the wind for the runup, Dan demonstrated how turning and pivoting with a brake will unlock the camming tailwheel and allow it to turn very tightly.
Like everything else about the airplane, the runup was simple, all I had to do was push the throttle up to 1,500 rpm then check the mags and carburetor heat. We noted that the oil pressure was normal and the engine had warmed sufficiently so I tried to spin the airplane back around and lock the tailwheel into steering with opposite brake. Since it was my first attempt ever, I missed the lock at first and we went weaving in slow motion until I finally got the tailwheel to engage.
Dan called our departure on the radio and I took to the runway and lined us up. He progressively guided me through the takeoff: ease in the power, keep the stick back. The airplane accelerated down the runway at a nimble pace. Ease the stick forward and let the tail come up. The sight-picture shifted as the airplane tilted forward on its main wheels. Be patient and wait until the airplane is ready to lift off. When I felt that it was ready, I eased back on the stick like I would normally do on a 172—not so fast! We were still in ground effect with barely any flying speed. Dan helped me lower the nose and pick up airspeed until the indicator read 80 mph. After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time to let back on the stick and start our climb.
To call climb performance in a 65-horsepower airplane with two people anemic is a gross understatement. In the cool of the morning we were doing 400 ft/min—this was supposedly an excellent climb! We finally gained enough altitude and began our air work maneuvers. I started to feel out the rudders while watching the ball and was only embarrassing myself. Dan saw my struggles and had me do some rudder coordination exercises. We practiced rolling the airplane back and forth rapidly to get my feet working with my hands. My coordination started to come together but would always come tumbling down when I went back to focusing on the ball. The Luscombe does not have self-centering rudder pedals like modern Cessnas or Pipers. If you take your feet off the pedals, even in cruise, the airplane takes on a will of its own.
Despite my initial unfamiliarity with the rudders, the Luscombe was still a very easy airplane to fly. Steep turns and stalls were non-events as long as I stayed coordinated. We headed for the pattern and practiced some low approaches to make sure I could keep the airplane straight on landing. A nose-wheel airplane can take a poorly executed crosswind landing, but Dan explained that a Luscombe must be landed almost perfectly straight with no side load or drift. Luscombe 8s have a weakness where a landing gear can crumple and fold on itself if the wheel is pushed too far toward the center of the airplane.
To teach crosswind landings to students, Dan explains how the wing, controlled by the ailerons, is the only tool that can fight a crosswind. The stick must be steadily held into the wind to counter it. If the airplane is off the centerline, the stick needs to be pushed harder and harder toward the centerline until the airplane behaves; the pilot uses the ailerons to control side-to-side movement. This applies in the air and on the ground. The sole job of the rudder, on both approach and landing, is to point the airplane parallel to the centerline. The stick and the rudder therefore have two very different and distinct jobs but are used in tight conjunction to ensure a straight landing.
To first practice landings, we started on the grass next to the asphalt runway. Dan kept me off the pavement until I could tame the Luscombe on the more forgiving grass. We started with three-point landings: a full stall landing touching down on all three wheels simultaneously. I then graduated to wheel landings, where the pilot flies the airplane onto the runway with just the main gear touching first. This type of landing requires some extra finesse and nerve since the pilot must push forward on the stick just as the wheels touch to kill the wing's lift. As airspeed decays, the tail settles onto the runway on its own.
The idea of pushing forward on the stick right as the airplane was landing did not sit well with me at first. I would either forget to push, not push enough, or push too late. I finally got a few wheel landings right and felt a small sense of accomplishment. We broke for lunch and Dan talked more details on the Luscombe with me and my friends. Afterwards, Dan took both of my friends up for an introduction to tailwheel flying and then I got back in and got to embarrass myself even more—this time on the pavement. The wind had just started to pick up which made landing equal parts more difficult and more rewarding.
I unfolded myself from the Luscombe’s small seat that afternoon with an even stronger determination to master the airplane than I had getting in. In calm winds, I could only comfortably handle three-point landings on grass and that was about it. I didn't have wheel landings figured out yet and the whole business of managing a crosswind was out of the question until I could get the airplane to gently touch the ground without a bounce.
Dan jovially invited us to come back soon as my friends and I got back in our Cessna, duly humbled but eager to return to Clemson to fly the Luscombe again.
The morning sky was smooth, cool, and clear. Armed with a club airplane, I excitedly departed DeKalb-Peachtree along with two of my friends, Lars and Chase, in the general direction of Clemson. Finding Clemson from the air is as easy as falling off a log; the Appalachians off to the left and I-85 on the right funneled us right into Oconee County’s airspace. The grasping fingers of Lake Hartwell wrap around the airport almost as if pointing to the runway. Visibility was unlimited and we spotted the airport almost twenty miles out. We joined the left-hand pattern for runway 7 and made our approach.
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| The Georgia/South Carolina Border on I-85 which lies on Lake Hartwell |
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| David and Dan |
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| Dan's Luscombe |
Dan explained how many pilots consider the Luscombe squirrely and hard to handle, but he painted a different picture—one of an efficient, responsive little airplane that does exactly what it is told with minimal effort. We discussed the airplane's characteristics: its healthy dose of adverse yaw, short coupled landing gear setup, and the less-than-ideal heel brakes common on airplanes of that day. Dan explained the details of proper hand propping and then helped me buckle in for our first flight of air work.
I turned on the fuel valve and Dan pulled the Continental A65 through a few blades. I recited the verbiage he had taught: "brakes on, fuel on, mags hot, throttle cracked." He pulled the prop through one more blade and the little A65 kicked to life. The puttering sound of an idling A65 is intoxicating—it’s almost as good as a radial!
Like everything else about the airplane, the runup was simple, all I had to do was push the throttle up to 1,500 rpm then check the mags and carburetor heat. We noted that the oil pressure was normal and the engine had warmed sufficiently so I tried to spin the airplane back around and lock the tailwheel into steering with opposite brake. Since it was my first attempt ever, I missed the lock at first and we went weaving in slow motion until I finally got the tailwheel to engage.
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| The "Office" of Dan's Luscombe |
Despite my initial unfamiliarity with the rudders, the Luscombe was still a very easy airplane to fly. Steep turns and stalls were non-events as long as I stayed coordinated. We headed for the pattern and practiced some low approaches to make sure I could keep the airplane straight on landing. A nose-wheel airplane can take a poorly executed crosswind landing, but Dan explained that a Luscombe must be landed almost perfectly straight with no side load or drift. Luscombe 8s have a weakness where a landing gear can crumple and fold on itself if the wheel is pushed too far toward the center of the airplane.
To teach crosswind landings to students, Dan explains how the wing, controlled by the ailerons, is the only tool that can fight a crosswind. The stick must be steadily held into the wind to counter it. If the airplane is off the centerline, the stick needs to be pushed harder and harder toward the centerline until the airplane behaves; the pilot uses the ailerons to control side-to-side movement. This applies in the air and on the ground. The sole job of the rudder, on both approach and landing, is to point the airplane parallel to the centerline. The stick and the rudder therefore have two very different and distinct jobs but are used in tight conjunction to ensure a straight landing.
To first practice landings, we started on the grass next to the asphalt runway. Dan kept me off the pavement until I could tame the Luscombe on the more forgiving grass. We started with three-point landings: a full stall landing touching down on all three wheels simultaneously. I then graduated to wheel landings, where the pilot flies the airplane onto the runway with just the main gear touching first. This type of landing requires some extra finesse and nerve since the pilot must push forward on the stick just as the wheels touch to kill the wing's lift. As airspeed decays, the tail settles onto the runway on its own.
The idea of pushing forward on the stick right as the airplane was landing did not sit well with me at first. I would either forget to push, not push enough, or push too late. I finally got a few wheel landings right and felt a small sense of accomplishment. We broke for lunch and Dan talked more details on the Luscombe with me and my friends. Afterwards, Dan took both of my friends up for an introduction to tailwheel flying and then I got back in and got to embarrass myself even more—this time on the pavement. The wind had just started to pick up which made landing equal parts more difficult and more rewarding.
I unfolded myself from the Luscombe’s small seat that afternoon with an even stronger determination to master the airplane than I had getting in. In calm winds, I could only comfortably handle three-point landings on grass and that was about it. I didn't have wheel landings figured out yet and the whole business of managing a crosswind was out of the question until I could get the airplane to gently touch the ground without a bounce.
Dan jovially invited us to come back soon as my friends and I got back in our Cessna, duly humbled but eager to return to Clemson to fly the Luscombe again.
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