Life with a Luscombe: Commuting to "Work"

It was a typical after-work evening and I had a flying lesson with one of my instrument students. Since we were planning to fly while it was still light out, I elected to take the Luscombe over even though it added a ton of time to my travel; as they say, “Time to spare? Go by air.” I drove to Ocean Springs, changed, then pre-flighted the airplane. I didn’t bother to check the gas with the stick since I had flown only an hour after my last refueling on the way home from Clemson but I still checked the visual gauge in the back wall of the cockpit. The indicator was between ½ and ¾ tank—perfect.

A Luscombe Fuel Site Gauge Off a Model A Ford

I hurried through the rest of the pre-flight since I was about ten minutes behind schedule. I pulled the airplane out and tied it down at the tail to start. The cold start procedure worked and it started on the first blade after I made the mags hot. I ran back around to the cockpit and brought the engine down to low idle, checked the oil pressure, and carefully untied the tail.

Gingerly climbing into the cockpit, I got everything set before taxiing out and performing the runup. The winds were out of the southeast at about five knots and I made my call then gave the Luscombe the gun. I was up and away by midfield and made my turnout to Trent Lott at about 400 ft.

The hop over to Trent Lott was quick and easy although the controller misunderstood me when I called up from the southwest. He thought I was due south of the field but I corrected him and got an appropriate pattern entry. Checklist complete, I was cleared to land and made the usual hard slipping turn down to the runway. My airspeed got down to 60 at one point which scared me at first but I reminded myself to always stay on top of the airspeed in a slip, especially so close to the ground. Even with a 30 degree crosswind I made a decent wheel landing and taxied in. I shut down and both Todd, one of my commercial students, and Carrie came out to see the airplane.

I got her buckled in, instructed Todd on when to untie the tail and then pulled it though on hot mags with the throttle cracked—it started on the third blade. We taxied out and did a runup and controls check. The takeoff roll started with the stick all the way back and to the right to account for the approximately six knot crosswind. The crosswind input didn’t come out quickly enough and as the Luscombe broke ground we ended up drifting into the wind a little. Carrie enjoyed the short flight down to the beach and back. The landing was one of those too slow wheel landings that quickly turned into an ugly three-pointer. At least I had accounted for the wind and didn’t hurt the airplane.

We taxied back in and did a hot switch with Tod now taking the copilot's seat—another shortcut so that I wouldn’t have to prop us off a third time. By now, you may have noticed that this had turned into a “cutting corners” flight. These are the kind of flights that end up damaging airplanes and killing people. Unfortunately, the shortcut string of events wasn’t over yet.

Carrie and I flew her 182 for an instrument lesson, practicing ILS approaches, and then headed back into PQL. Eager to get my day VFR-only Luscombe back over to Ocean Springs, I assumed that the Luscombe was fine without a preflight since it had just flown, another dangerous chain of reasoning. I elected to just check the oil and then hop in and go. It started right up with the hot-start procedure and I was away. Upon clearing the Class Delta, I tried checking my airspeed indicator by flying the four cardinal headings and averaging the GPS ground speeds together. It came out within one mph and I was pleased. The sun was getting rather low by this point but I figured there were still a few minutes left to play. Noting that the western edge of the bayou between Pascagoula and Gautier was clear of the Delta, I pointed the little Luscombe’s nose down and enjoyed several minutes of chugging over the curving deserted rivers at 500 ft.

A Pretty View and a Pretty Tense Situation

As I turned around to head for home, I glanced back at the fuel gauge. It was below the ¼ tank mark! I went into a mental panic and realized I had flown the airplane home from Evergreen, commuted to Trent Lott, gave two rides, and was messing around over the marsh with nary a clue of exactly what my fuel situation was! I turned direct for Ocean Springs and pulled the power and the airspeed way back to head for best range speed. I was only seven miles from Ocean Springs but was still as tense as a tick. Checking the tach log, I had about 2.3 hours of time since the last refuel. Knowing that tach time is less than actual Hobbs time, I wasn’t confident and was constantly searching for landing spots all the way home.

Horrible thoughts ran through my head of losing this beautiful airplane and all the shame, financial loss, and potential bodily harm which could come from running the tank dry while still airborne. A Cessna was in the pattern ahead of me and he made a full stop and easy exit off the runway as I turned final. I was finally within gliding range and the tension eased. I made an okay wheel landing and then made a less than graceful turn on the runway to taxi back to the hangar. After shutting down, I immediately checked with the stick and it was halfway between the 5-gallon mark and the bottom. I guessed I had between two and three gallons of fuel which matched with the post-refueling gallon total. I made a mark for this new low on the stick and then pushed the airplane back into its nest to fly another day.

Home Again - Safe and Sound