Sunday, January 17, 2010

New Aircraft Models to be introduced this week

Wichita went through a real cold spell in November, December and January. It was a difficult time to develop and test new aircraft models, but that's exactly what we did this winter. We'll put out official news releases tomorrow morning, and they are chock full of information on our two new aircraft models.

One is a tricycle gear model, and we are calling it the 'Trike'. How original!

The other is a very high performance ultralight, and we are calling it the 'Superlite'. Both were developed in response to the multitudes of feedback we've received on our classic Belite 254 ultralight aircraft.

Both are loads of fun to fly!

I had the joy of doing first flights and test flights on them. The Superlite was easy -- it flies exactly like our Belite 254, only on steroids. The Trike was a little more eventful -- since it used a new tail design, I found our first rigging was off and the first test hop required constant firm forward stick pressure. That was easily corrected, and the Trike turned into a flying (and landing) dream.

I just uploaded a video to our youtube channel, with an in cockpit view of flying the new Trike. Later this week, we'll have a video of the Superlite, especially showing its 'best in the world' takeoff performance. Yes, that's a big statement, but this little airplane can compete with the many of the best certified aircraft for takeoff performance and beat them.

Our aviation publicist guru Dave watched the Superlite takeoff yesterday and tried to take pictures, but he kept framing his takeoff shot, then have the plane disappear out of frame as it shot upward. You'll enjoy reading the news release.

You can visit the youtube video post of the Trike here: and if that doesn't work, just go to youtube and search on Belite Aircraft.

Ever since the start of the year, the number of purchase inquiries on our aircraft have increased considerably. That's probably due to a number of things: we've kicked up our advertising a notch, and we've gotten good press in a variety of magazines, both here in the US and in Europe.

Here's a little bit of weight information on the new Superlite.

SUPERLITE Weight in Pounds, then Kilos:

Aircraft with CF Wings: 142.2 64.9
Windshield: 4.5 2.0
Brakes: 6.0 2.7
HIRTH 50HP 2 Cyl: 78.0 35.5
Engine Mount: 4.0 1.8
Wood 2 blade 60 x 36: 4.5 2.0
BIG Tires: 15.0 6.8
Standard 5.0 gallon: 4.3 2.0
BRS Parachute: 21.0 9.5

Weight Totals in pounds and Kilos: 279.5 127.0

The astute reader and follower of Part 103 regulations will notice two things:

1) The weight is 1.5 pounds more than the maximum for a Part 103 ultralight with a parachute (277.99 pounds). Yes, I know. We've got a few things left to do before this new airplane is ready to deliver: swap the elevator to carbon fiber, swap the tail spring to composite, perhaps remove the tubes from the tires. This will shave the necessary weight. We could also swap out the BIG tires to smaller ones and achieve the weight saving objective, but the big tires look awesome and must be kept.

2) The engine is a 50HP powerhouse, and as a result, the aircraft cruises at greater than 62mph. The legal solution per part 103 is to reduce the engine power via a ground adjustable power stop, and we will do this for our Part 103 customers. But anyone who builds and registers it as an experimental can ignore this and fly it full throttle. When configured this way, you have a 50HP engine with a 280 pound airframe. Do the math, it's an amazing power to weight ratio.

Tomorrow morning, I get in a truck and will be driving these two new aircraft designs down to Sebring, and they will be on display at the airshow there. Hopefully we'll fly one of them as well.

I will also be posting pictures of both aircraft to my Flickr account:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/beliteaircraft/

BTW, we've also changed our production from the red plastic fuel tanks to really good looking spun aluminum tanks. They are more durable than plastic, and weigh about the same. We like them a lot!

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Shearer

“Shearer”
© 2009 by James Wiebe

[Jason]
My friend Jason weighs 235 pounds. He is tall (nearly as tall as me) and strongly proportioned, far more so than me. If he was a football player, he would be a wide receiver. He used to wear a beard that made him look like Abe Lincoln. In fact, when he was pointed out to me many years ago, the mutual friend told me to look for the man who looked like Abe. I found Jason easily, and we became lifelong friends.

[1996 – summertime – at Shearer, which is somewhere deep in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness]
I am staring at Jason as he runs at full gallop across my field of view. Just like Indiana Jones, each step he makes is kicking up dust, and it is hard to imagine someone as large as him running as fast as he is. Why is he running so fast? He is running from my left to my right.

Further to my left is a blue and white Cessna, which is sitting near the end of a wilderness airstrip. Far off to my right is the Selway river. If Jason keeps running as fast as he is, he will run into the river. Jason is running from the airplane as fast as legs can carry a man. I have never seen anything like it.
He stops, and I jog over to him. He is looking at his hand. It has four stings in it. Even in the space of 25 or 30 seconds, the stings are forming considerable welts.

“I was last stung by wasps when I was a child,” he says, “and I may be allergic to these stings.” That’s not good news. We are miles from roads, trailheads, human beings, help, doctors, and civilization. We had just arrived in my Cessna Skyhawk, we had just gotten out of the airplane. Jason was in the process of twisting a tie down stake into the dry, sandy soil so that we could tie the plane down.
He had stuck the stake into a convenient hole in the ground, in order to save a little time, and the wasps had flown out and bit him. Only four made it in the instant of initial attack, and Jason’s quick run had left the balance of the wasp pack behind. But four stings in one hand!

We need a doctor – Oh wait, Jason is a doctor, and he tells me what to do in case things go poorly for him. There really is precious little we can do except watch his hand and pay attention to his breathing. My anxiety level rises.
He and I twist the remainder of the tie down stakes into the ground. We don’t put them into any other wasp nests; no more stings.

There is a small cluster of pine trees alongside the runway which provides an ideal camping spot. We set up our tent.

Jason’s hand is swollen and painful. We have the ideal solution to get his mind from dwelling on the hand: flyfishing. That’s what we are here to do. We can fish, and he can dip his hand in the river anytime to cool it off.

We proceed to fly fish in the Selway river. The wilderness fishing is remarkable; each spot of open water provides a new opportunity to catch more trout. Later, we find a deeper hole. Every time our fly hits the water, another round of fish race toward it. Only one wins; the others return to the depths to await another chance. We catch and release the native cutthroat trout, one after another.

The day wears on. Jason and I hike up and down the river, exploring the wilderness. We return to camp, make dinner, and sit around a fire. The sun sets; I see one hundred thousand stars against a flat black sky. Then it’s time to crawl in our sleeping bags.

The next morning, Jason’s hand is the size of small ham.


[24 hours before the wasp bites]
We had arrived in the small town of Salmon, Idaho, having flown 999 statute miles from Wichita, KS. We were thrilled. I took mountain flying training earlier the same year, and I am eager to deliver Jason and myself deep into the wilderness. Our destination, Shearer airstrip, has been carefully selected from a mountain flying guide. Although I’ve never flown to Shearer before, a qualified mountain flying instructor has agreed to take me specifically to this remote airstrip to train me on its intricacies. Like most good mountain airstrips, it’s in a valley, also along a river, and is a one way in, one way out strip. In other words, you can only approach from one direction for landing, because the airstrip ends in a side of a mountain or some similar impenetrable obstacle. Takeoff is in the opposite direction for the same reason. Prior instruction is a very good idea for the first time pilot. And I had arranged that instruction.

My instructor was used to flying large airplanes, and my airplane was small, and liked to glide well when the power was reduced. This would be a problem.
The approach to Shearer airstrip will fill anyone with awe, first because of the beauty, and secondly, because of the intricacy of lacing the aircraft through the valley and into the airstrip.

At a normal airfield, the proper pattern for landing is a rectangle. You enter the rectangle and trace its outline, you descend in an orderly fashion; you land. This doesn’t work at Shearer. As I mentioned, Shearer is in a valley. There are no rectangular traffic patterns at Shearer.

A proper approach to Shearer requires a descent into the Selway river valley. A good route is to come down Bear Creek, then turn left (upriver) to head towards Shearer, immediately after passing a private ranch, with a private runway; a small oasis of private ownership surrounded by the wilderness. The ranch briefly provides a glimpse of extraordinary wealth – causing an inflective thought as you consider the difficulty of access combined with the beauty of the location; the perfectly green grass runway, the solar cells for power generation. Who could afford to own this? How was it built in this remote location? The ranch quickly recedes behind you.

You continue to fly over the river valley at an altitude of perhaps five or six hundred feet off the water. You see crystal water rushing over boulders below you, and you see mountains on both sides of you. They move by with impressive speed; always that feeling of speed in your peripheral vision. Trees rush by. Mountains rush by. You keep the airplane roughly on the right side of the valley, because, an airplane may be around the corner, coming in the opposite direction, and there are right of ways which should be observed, even for airplanes. So you are a little closer to the scenery of the right side of the valley, and it is perhaps the closest you’ve ever been to a mountain, while moving so rapidly through the air. You have to remain observant, because the valley is making slight S turns as the course of the river, the mountains, and the trees moves around.

So here’s the next problem: even though the airstrip is close (perhaps two miles away, upriver), and you are rushing toward it, you still can’t see it. It is in the valley, but the river turns sharply, and that will require the airplane to make a sharp right turn as the river does likewise. The approach is therefore difficult and blind. When we get to the proper ridge, we will turn right, and only then will we see the runway. And it will be right in front of us. And when the runway is right in front of us, we’d better check for elk and deer on the runway. If they block our way, we had best apply power, climb out in a slight left turn, and gain altitude over the river heading upriver. This decision has to be made immediately, because when the airplane is committed to land, it will be impossible to change our mind. (A last moment climb out will simply cause us to hit a mountain which lies at the end of the runway.)

Remember, I’m with an instructor for this first attempt, right? Nothing can possibly go wrong.

The airplane has been slowed to about 65mph, and we have some flaps extended, even though we still can’t see the airstrip. We are fully configured for landing. The ridge appears ahead and to the right. I bank the airplane to turn over the ridge, and I see trees shooting below me as I cross the ridge line.

Sure enough, the runway is there. It is the narrowest, most unimproved slit of ground I’ve ever landed an airplane on. It looks exactly like a jeep trail. The only thing going for it is that it is straight. It rises slightly upslope towards the far end, then the terrain rises even faster into a mountain side.
It is also very short. This makes things a little trickier yet, simply due to the lack of room for error. Don’t land short (there’s no runway – just weeds and mountain pasture). Don’t land long (it’s a mountain, idiot.) Just land at the right spot, and do it the first time, everytime.

We are very close to the approach end of the runway. The instructor had me cut power to the engine, and so we are essentially gliding towards our touchdown point.
My little airplane is a Cessna Skyhawk, also known as a 172. They are fun, sprightly little flyers. They hold four people, and are also commonly used for instruction.

My instructor’s regular job is hauling passengers and freight in larger aircraft, such as the Cessna Stationair. A Stationair will not glide well. My instructor has forgotten that the 172 we are in is NOT a Stationair. My 172 is gliding very well. In fact, it is gliding so well that we are both realzing that the plane will not get onto the ground before we run out of airstrip. And there is a mountain beyond that.
About 2/3rds of the way down the airstrip, the wheels of the plane finally touch the dirt. The instructor and I both press the wheel brakes as hard as legs will press. The 172 wheels grab dirt and sink and skid as the mountain in the windshield gets larger. (We’re skidding towards it). Mercifully, about 75 feet of dirt and sand remains as the airplane finally skids to a stop.
I exhale. So does the instructor.

“I think we should try that one more time,” says the instructor. I agree. We turn the plane around, take off, head downriver, reverse course, and come back in and land one more time. With better speed control, the next landing is perfect, and my instructor tells me that I’m hereafter OK to do it in on my own. We fly back to Salmon, and I’m glad to be done with him.

Jason is waiting for me at our hotel room. He’s been shopping for food while I’ve been staining seat cushions. We will reload the plane and depart for our remote camping destination in the morning.

***

--- James Wiebe

PS I've been super busy working on stuff. Hope you enjoyed reading this little interlude from my past. It's basically an uncompleted true story -- I started to write a book about these experiences several years ago and this would have been one of the chapters. My friend Jason is awesome. We've done many adventure trips over the years.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Belite Aircraft Announces Kits!

I've been so busy getting our kits ready. Here's the release which was just posted a couple of hours ago:

Wichita, KS -- Belite Aircraft is now offering several kit configurations of its single-seat Part 103 compliant airplane at prices starting below $8,100, well below others in the market. These kits may also be built as a homebuilt, experimental aircraft. Subassemblies and components, many of which can be used on other types of homebuilt and ultralight aircraft, are also available so that builders can construct their aircraft in stages.

Kits and Parts can be purchased on the online store, accessible through the Belite website at www.beliteaircraft.com. Many different Part 103 and experimental aircraft can use the parts and subassemblies available on the Belite webstore.

Belite also concurrently announces its new carbon fiber ‘hybrid’ tailfeathers, which are lighter, stronger and less expensive than steel equivalents. Quoted kit prices include these new tail feathers. Original steel tailfeathers are also available at higher prices.

For those builders seeking to register their airplane as experimental, Belite kits are expected to comply with the FAA’s new experimental aircraft ruling, AC 20-27G. Belite expects a favorable ruling in the first quarter of 2010. (Part 103 assembly does not require compliance to the new FAA ruling.)

Kits include required parts and subassemblies for a Belite 254 aircraft, firewall aft. Carbon fiber wing options are available as well. “Belite’s pricing, which starts at $8,095, makes it one of the finest values in experimental or ultralight aircraft kits available today. A kit with a complete finish welded fuselage, along with an excellent VFR instrument panel, is available for a little less than $13,000, as well,” noted James Wiebe, Chief Executive Officer of Belite. “With some careful shopping of our kits and the used/new engine market, it’s possible to have a homebuilt taildragger for anywhere between $10K and $17K, depending on engine and panel,” Wiebe added.

Kit subassemblies are also available for Tail Feathers, Wings, Landing Gear, Fabric, Fuselage, Panel/Electronics, Flaperons, Windshield, Flight Control, Fuel System, Struts and Composites, as well as Powdercoating and Crating.

Specific features, pricing and availability, as well as additional features can be obtained by contacting Belite Aircraft at www.beliteaircraft.com or by calling 316-253-6746. Photographs and additional details of both versions of the aircraft are also published in James Wiebe’s blog, www.jameswiebe.blogspot.com, which may also be accessed through the Belite website.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Track 12

“Track 12”

By James Wiebe, CEO

Belite Aircraft

© 2009 James Wiebe

For reprint rights, contact the author:

James ‘at’ (that’s ‘@’) beliteaircraft.com

Chapter 1: Scrubbing a flight

I stare at the concrete ramp in dismay. There is a leak by the quick drain on the tank. Every 5 seconds, another drop hits the concrete, a steady drip, coming from the general area of the quick drain on the fuel tank. The day’s flight is scrubbed. The tank needs repair.

I could swap the tank for another, I have two more back at the shop. But those tanks either have no fuel sender installed (the device which determines the quantity of fuel), or their fuel sender is not compatible with the one installed in the panel of this particular plane. In other words, I’d be flying blind on fuel consumption, and I’m not eager to do that.

Been there, done that, it shouldn’t happen, but I’m cautious. So the flight is definitely scrubbed.

Chapter 2: Flint Hills, again

My mind wanders as I drive on I35 towards Emporia KS, to a fly in at the Emporia airport. The grass in the hills remains luscious and green even though the season is late September; the valleys that are within the hills fall into the distance, and the turnpike wanders around through it all. I see cattle, many ponds, and the crest of hills and fade of valleys. Even though the elevation gain and loss from the Kansas ‘flint hills’ is not large, the majesty and mystery of what I see in these hills makes me feel awed.

While driving, I consider a recent email I received from a potential dealer for our Part 103 ultralight, the Belite 254:

“My first ultralight was an eye opener! Training and reliability was a joke. If I wasn't already an experienced pilot (and pretty good at that time), I would have never survived. Several years ago, when I jumped back into the FAR par 103 ultralight word, much progress had been made. My new bird was incredible in many ways but still elementary in others.

One of the things I never could accept was the attitude of the management at the company I bought it from. This merits some explanation but please understand it is merely the opinion of one person, perhaps not the majority of their dealers.

The factory never showed any genuine interest or trust in their dealers. To even get a plant tour or basic product information took major effort on the part of the dealer... it was almost as if you were considered an outsider or even an industrial spy. No training or indoctrination was available from the factory. Even worse, they didn't even try to encourage dealer interaction.... we didn't have a clue who covered various areas or who to refer customers to other than the factory. Bottom line is this. It is impossible to take pride in something and work to continually improve when there is no team spirit or leadership from the company brass. Frankly, I have never experienced anything like it unless they were trying to fail.

Now that’s an honest email!

He’s describing one of the many bruises that the FAR 103 ultralight industry has taken over the last 3 decades. Manufacturers who fell into the role of being manufacturers, not because they planned and managed, but because they had a nice design, and regular guys said they wanted to buy it.

Obliging young businessman providing new ultralights to eager customers. Seems easy, correct, natural, right?

I’d been there, in my first major company, Newer Technology. I was young, the company had a hot product, we didn’t have a clue how to produce or build it reliably in high volume. We ended up taking more than 25,000 orders for a $200 product, thus selling the product at a pricepoint that could not reasonably be expected to earn us any money, and then we delayed product shipments for 6 months, just to make sure the customer base appreciated our incompetence.

We were incompetent. OK, maybe not all of us, maybe not everyday, but we blew it on the big decisions. I learned lessons, I changed as a result.

Newer Technology was occasionally called ‘Never’ Technology, and we deserved the unfriendly moniker. We ended pissing off our dealers and sales representatives. We snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Bankruptcy and failure. I like to describe the Newer period of my business career as how I obtained my ‘Masters of Business Administration’ degree, the hard way.

(Read more on Newer, written by my friend Roger Kasten: http://www.xlr8yourmac.com/feedback/NewerTechFarewell.html )

Chapter 3: Two cell phone towers

I’m still driving down the turnpike, and I see two cell phone towers. They are, in fact, the same two cell towers I had spotted from a distance several weeks ago, when my plane and I spent an eventful afternoon broken down. http://jameswiebe.blogspot.com/search?q=blue

This time, I’m seeing them from close up. They had provided the cell phone link which was my lifeline.

Back to reflections from the email:

“Aviation is an inherently risky venture, especially if you are not always working hard to do the correct thing and establish the right attitudes and habits. It is almost like the FAR Part 103 ultralight community knowingly sweeps mistakes and problems under the carpet (probably for liability reasons) rather than being open and above board to discover weaknesses such that they can be addressed intelligently. Even the FAA seems complicit in this regard with their hands off approach (especially in ultralights) even when they have reason to know negative trends exist in certain product lines. Getting valid information regarding accidents is especially hard to come by since many problems are simply not reported and are not appropriately investigated by trained personnel. Consequently, mum is the word so as not to hurt the reputation of anyone involved. Meanwhile, problems do not get addressed on a timely basis.

OK, I’ll think about FAR Part 103 accidents for a few minutes. No one is publicly talking about or reporting ultralight incidents or accidents (with my little flint hills experience apparently a rare exception) and no one in the FAA is paying attention. Really! No one is paying attention.

At Oshkosh a few weeks ago, I had the chance to talk with someone at the FAA who used to be in charge of a lot of FAR Part 103 paperwork. He said he’d see an application cross his desk every couple of days. This was years ago; eons ago. I asked him who or how many now in the FAA tracked Part 103 aircraft these days. Nada, Zilch. No one. He told me that the FAA doesn’t have anyone working on Part 103 issues. “That would be a Flight Standards issue… he says”. In fact, this FAA employee flies ultralights, and he’s hunting our booth, trying to find help getting some struts for his bird. I try and help him.

If a tree falls in a forest, does it make any sound?

If an ultralight falls out of the air, does any part of the industry or government really care?

Hmm.

No, not really. No one cares.

When I started Belite, I bought a used Kitfox Lite ultralight, to help me figure out how to build a Belite.

That bird had its fair share of safety and regulatory issues: A) one of the rod end bearings had a serious bend, with the resulting upcoming failure certain to cause a loss of control. B) the engine reduction bearing block had six bolts, of which four were cracked and lying in a cavity in an engine casting. C) it was 40 pounds over legal flying weight. I considered how to publicize the first two problems to the community; I knew that plane had been flown regularly, but with neglected maintenance. ( As for the third point, the story of the weight reduction was the cover story for the September issue of Sport Pilot.)

Other anecdotes about old ultralights float through my mind. Thousands of planes with worn out sails; old engines, bad engines, coats of dust, no upkeep, mice living in the rear of the pilot’s seat, under the cracked fiberglass chair. Most of these old ultralight aircraft will never fly again.

Last weekend, I spoke with a gentleman who had a couple of ultralights, one needing repair before flight. He called the manufacturer, and was told to take a hacksaw to his plane and cut it up. (They were only partly serious; the parts he needed were available – with shipping costing more than the parts. He asked if that was because they wanted him to buy a new plane, and they said yes. Fair deal.)


Chapter 4: the Emporia fly in

I arrive at the Emporia airport. To my delight, another of my friends, Craig Sooter, is there. We exchange greetings; he has to leave almost immediately. (Craig took the photo of the Belite 254 CF which ended up on the cover of Sport Pilot magazine; he was in a Cessna 172 chasing my Belite. How he got slow enough to take photos is a story for another time…)

I head inside the hangar, and I find even more friends. Terry Alley is there, along with another friend, Paul Fiebich. Paul flew to Emporia in his Airbike, and Terry flew in his Kitfox Lite. The weather is perfect; very light winds; lots of sunshine. The temperature is in the 70’s, the pancakes, coffee and orange juice are less than four bucks. A nice lady take my money, and I join Terry and Paul over at a table. Terry’s $100 breakfast probably cost less than $20, roundtrip, including breakfast and gas.

I am disappointed by the turnout. I see maybe 70 or 80 people, along with maybe 3 dozen planes on the ramp. A group of powered paragliders are clumped together on the grass. All sport ‘for sale’ signs on them. Prices range from below $10K to $18K or $19K. I see ‘make offer’ signs posted as well. I am surprised that on such a beautiful day, the proprietor has chosen not to fly his inventory. None of the paragliders are moving. In fact, they look like they are huddled together, a little discouraged, talking about flying tales from 2 or 3 years ago.

A few more words from the email provide a counterpoint to the low crowd count:

“The ultralight crowd is usually a gregarious bunch of people with social ties. This should be encouraged and exploited in my opinion. Birds of a feather flock together so it makes sense to go with the flow rather than ignore the natural tendency. This can be done intelligently with training and skill building in mind (RV get togethers come to mind) rather than mindless partying and unstructured interactions. This can be a unique opportunity to differentiate one company from its less creative competition (RANS seems to work this angle well).

That seems obvious, I agree.

Musing to myself: In the last few days, I had the opportunity to walk around several private airstrips. I feel privileged. All are grass; one is a glider port, another is a strip mowed out of a hayfield, and the third is an airpark. The runway at that one is gorgeous, with manicured grass, generously wide active runway, homes on both sides, and a hayfield off the departure end of the runway. Power out on takeoff?? No problem… just coast into the next field. I see an older gentleman who is working on his airplane collection. At this level, aviation is clearly vibrant and alive!

I was oblivious to all of these hidden airport places, before I started flying ultralight Part 103. Each has a story to tell, each has some community. One of these places is a glider port, and it hides a couple of very small businesses; it has an individual building and selling helicopters, another restoring classic sailplanes, sailplane instruction, a dozen ore more sailplanes in storage trailers, and more.

Someone from the glider club is always at the local airshow, handing out brochures, encouraging rides, and generally talking up the joy of sailplanes.

I landed a new Belite there a few days ago. The A&P was working on the helicopter. He came out and looked at my very competent little plane, and so do several other folks. Everyone seems delighted. He notices a loose jam nut on a rod end bearing and scurries off to grab a wrench. A moment later, the problem is fixed.


Chapter 5: Track 12

On the drive back from Emporia, I’m playing my CD player; I like a couple of the tracks that I like and play them over and over. One is Track 12. It grabs my attention. It talks about ‘having a long long way to fall’.

No, I’m not musing about falling out of an airplane.

I am musing about how the ultralight aircraft industry had done so well, and is now doing so poorly.

I talked with one of my vendors. He recalled better days for Part 103, when volumes of aircraft sold were hundreds or even thousands of units. He mentions having supplied parts to one company in volumes to support 2,500 aircraft sales. I am pretty impressed. My sales goal for 2010 is a tiny fraction of that number.

Why so poorly now?

Quick observations:

1) Products were priced below the cost of production. Of course the product was a bargain – the vendor had agreed to ship dollars with each airplane. He just didn’t know it at the time, nor did the purchaser. The purchaser thought he got a great, but fair deal. A year or two later, the seller and his accountant determined the error in selling price (too low).

2) Factory support and dealer networks were abysmal.

3) The product killed a lot of customers.

4) Maybe, just maybe, the fact that you don’t need a pilot’s license is not a good thing. I talk this over with Kathy, my wife, and she agrees. We shouldn’t sell our aircraft to people who don’t have minimum training, and we’ve just concluded that means you should have a license. (But we’re eager to sell aircraft to folks who’ve lost medicals – we can put a grounded pilot back in the sky, legally, even with a denied medical, and with no rationale reason not to fly again.)

Even more from the email:

“Professionalism and competency seems to be inconsistent or totally lacking in much of the ultralight community. Many of the people I worked with didn't have a clue how to work on essential components of their aircraft. This should have been a major source of concern but to my amazement it didn't seem to be an issue. If I were trying to stake a claim in this arena, I would give this some serious thought and use it to differentiate my company from the others. It may help justify higher price points and highlight quality and performance issues without using high pressure sales tactics. Simply put, it is hard to promote the joy of flying (in your brand) when your customers are dropping like flies. Or put another way, I'd rather have a business plan based on thoroughness, quality & safety than one of low price and minimum involvement.

I realize I have some additional insight into the coma that Part 103 finds itself in.

I happen to own a Light Sport Aircraft (LSA): a delightful Flight Design CTLS.

I haven’t flown it in four months.


Chapter 6: Part 103 as a counterpoint to Light Sport Aircraft (LSA?)

LSA were supposed to make it possible for everyone and all to fly in cheap aircraft. These aircraft were supposed to provide performance superior to a Skyhawk, on half the fuel burn, and also with one-fourth the price point. All we had to do was agree to a modest performance limitation (120Kts) and two folks on board. No problem, right? This was supposed to be the end of Part 103.

Except a funny thing happened: LSAs ended up costing 75% of a Skyhawk (mine was nearly $150K) and most all of them sold so far have been high end versions with high end pricetags. The very lowest cost LSA that I’m aware of is $60K, and it’s a stripped ugly thing. (YMMV).

I had lunch with someone at Cessna. He told me what they went through to gather customer feedback on aircraft pricing. Fascinating! Most folks who want to buy new aircraft expect them to be less expensive than what they know they cost to build. Is that surprising, amusing, or both?

This suggests that the pendulum which swung hard towards LSA will swung hard in the opposite direction as the disenchantment grows. For that group, Part 103 remains the best choice.

Chapter 7: Red car

As I approach the turnpike entrance out of Emporia and back towards Wichita, I notice a small red car has pulled into the automated lane for entering the Kansas Turnpike. It’s called the K-Tag lane. They clearly don’t have the electronic tag, and the gate won’t open. I pull in behind them, and my K-Tag sensor causes the gate to open. They drive through, oblivious, and I follow. I wonder what will happen when they get to their turnpike exit, without a K-Tag or a paper turnpike coupon.

I pass them a moment later. I discover that there is a sole occupant, and she is talking non-stop on a cellphone, oblivious to the micro-drama she created at the turnpike entrance. 10 minutes later, she passes me. She is still talking on a cell phone. I really, really want to see what happens when she exits the turnpike somewhere down the road. Unfortunately, she eventually disappears.


The email continues:

“Many ultralights start out with some obvious strikes against them. Their pilots are likely not the most experienced or trained in any aspect of aviation. The aircraft itself may have deficits compared to its heavier brethren. Reliability, crash-worthiness, durability, marginal operating envelopes, low power-to-weight ratios are but a few areas of concern. Somehow all of this needs to be addressed successfully such that the participants can enjoy their passion for flying and live to tell about it. Risky sports abound but that is no excuse to accept loss rates brought on by complacency and ignorance.

Agreed, agreed, agreed, agreed, agreed, and more.

Epilogue

I like flying my Belite 254, but this morning, I’m glad I had a fuel drip. Slowed me down to think.

After I return to Wichita, I swap the leaky fuel tank out and fly the bird closer to home base. I fly for a total of 2.3 hours before I call it a day. It is a beautiful day, and I have absolutely total freedom to barnstorm. I am joined by a friend, and we fly formation. He slowly passes me, but I don't feel too bad because I'm flying one of the birds which has just 30HP. In a couple of weeks, I'll have a 45HP version done as well and I will pass him. The skies are beautiful, the cut grass fields are green, and it is a joy to be flying.

James Wiebe