Working for four decades as a professional aviator doesn’t necessarily make one an expert in GA flying. I’ve purchased only three airplanes in my lifetime, but stumbled through the trials and tribulations of ownership like everyone else.
Part of the lesson learned is that thorny issues can be addressed before your name is ever printed on the registration certificate. But since that isn’t easy in the high-stakes game of buying used airplanes, here’s what I’d consider as the top five blunders you should avoid.
Mission blunder
It’s easy to get romantic about a potential airplane purchase. Our heart thumps thinking about the machine that holds fond memories of our flying youth. Some of us even attempt to buy that very airplane. If you must, you must. But I’d resist the urge.
Instead, focus on some soul searching, while asking yourself (and include any partner) some key questions.
- What’s really your purpose for owning an airplane?
- Do you need an airplane for transportation back and forth between your location and your kids’ or your parents’ home?
- Will it be used for business trips or for sampling $500 hamburgers?
- Do you want to use it as a flight instruction platform for an offspring who has professional pilot aspirations?
- Would you like to visit far areas of the country without having to deal with long TSA lines and airline delays?
- Does the idea of landing on grass fields without a control tower appeal to your senses?
Perhaps a combination of all the above is your goal. Most of us store a few potential airplane models in our heads already, but extend the list to the models that would reasonably fulfill your mission(s) within your budget. And have a budget—or at least a price point where you draw the line—because it’s easy to get emotional about a purchase.
And when emotion clouds the decision, walking away from even an overpriced deal can be like walking away from a puppy, especially if you’ve spent time, effort and money traveling a distance to check it out.
If you’re one of those folks who need a spreadsheet, by all means build one. I made a simple list of basic operating and fixed costs. For me, creating a bona fide spreadsheet takes all the fun out of owning an airplane. Don’t get me wrong, I applaud the spreadsheeters, but my philosophy is that the cost of owning an airplane is more about paying for the luxury of its availability rather than stressing over the hourly expenses.
That’s not to say you shouldn’t be aware of at least the approximate operating costs. Let’s be honest, for most of us who typically fly less than 100 hours per year, airplane ownership is just not an economical proposition. But is any toy that provides enjoyment ever economical?
Let’s look at some real-world ownership blunders that I learned from.
Piper Cherokee Six blunder
Remember that part about not getting romantic with an airplane purchase? I failed. Once I convinced myself that a piston twin wasn’t in the cards (more on that later), I leapt into searching for my favorite go-anywhere airplane of my early flying days—a Piper Cherokee Six.
It carried six people (actually seven), their bags and lots of fuel. Like the Post Office motto, “If it fits, it ships.” For me the Six was a small airliner, and its aft-cabin entry door was also a plus. And, I didn’t have to remember to put the gear up and down. What could be better for an airline pilot?
I picked a 1964 300-HP (Lycoming IO-540) model that was actually one of three prototypes for the upgraded engine and originally built with 260 HP. As I would find out later through some extra sleuthing, this Six was initially placed on water floats—I have the picture to prove it. Needless to say, it was an unusual airplane, which should have clued me in that it had the potential for maintenance issues, despite its relatively clean maintenance logs.
Rather than present you with the laundry list of discrepancies that arose during my ownership, I’ll focus on the model airplane itself and why it wasn’t the ideal choice. For instance, occasions arose where we made good use of the plane’s six seats, but most times it was just my wife and me in the cabin. And, a big IO-540 doesn’t sip fuel, so those fly-to-lunch days seemed a little extravagant. It wasn’t the best short field or grass strip airplane, either. While the extra fuel capacity is great for IFR reserves, our maximum human bladder range is three hours regardless of how far the airplane can go.
Because of the airplane’s age, discrepancies beyond just wear and tear were beginning to rear their ugly heads, inclusive of an unexpected engine overhaul. Despite my emotional attachment to this airplane, it was time to cut our losses so I sold it for a reasonable sum. I still debate whether it was the right decision.
Decathlon blunder
Once again under the topic of being honest about the mission, I lost sight of the ball. After the disappointing experience owning the Cherokee Six and having the airplane’s total expense highlighted succinctly by my wife—clenched teeth included—I decided a great alternative would be to romanticize further into my youth by entertaining the purchase of an aerobatic taildragger.
Aside from the fun factor of landing on grass runways in the middle of absolutely nowhere just because, operating expenses would be considerably less … mostly. Rationalizing that it would be operating the airplane for the pure joy of flying reinforced the decision. I would become a low and slow guy.
Rather than torturing you with the iterations that put a Decathlon rather than another model of taildragger in my hangar (which is aptly discussed in the November 2024 issue of Aviation Consumer), I’ll be honest about the purchase.
My enjoyment of the Decathlon masked the fact that I still craved a machine that could go places, and at least faster than 120 knots. And one that could comfortably carry my favorite copilot and our baggage.
So, I sold the Decathlon after a year of grinning while landing on every grass field within 100 miles of home base. If my wife had agreed with my pilot math that two airplanes for different purposes were not that expensive, I probably would still have the Decathlon.
Piper Arrow mission success
Although I made another blunder during the prepurchase process, a friend’s suggestion brought me to the Piper Arrow that we currently own. I didn’t blunder in the mission department. Putting aside my ego of downsizing from the Cherokee Six mini airliner, the Arrow became the more economical answer to our desire for traveling.
The 200-HP Arrow It isn’t especially fast—140 knots—but its Lycoming IO-360 engine sips fuel at half the consumption rate of the IO-540 in the Cherokee Six. The retractable landing gear adds a little sexiness, and the associated auto-extension system assists with slightly lower insurance premiums.
With just two of us, full fuel and baggage loaded in the cargo compartment and on the aft seats, no mission is a problem. I have to really work hard at overloading the airplane unless the back seats are filled with hefty people, inclusive of full fuel. Exceeding CG limits, fore or aft, has never been an issue. Apparently, consistent good landings are not part of my repertoire, but I blame that on the stiff gear and by no means operator error.
When the decision was presented to my wife in overhauling the interior, she asked if we were going to actually keep the airplane. Without hesitation, I responded in the affirmative and not just because her approval was important, but because the Arrow had become an affordable retirement airplane that accomplished our mission.
Twin or single blunder
This could be a simple answer if you don’t have a multi-engine rating. But if a multi-engine rating is in your wallet (and the insurance coverage you need is available), then the question deserves serious consideration. As an airline pilot, my professional life was entrenched in redundancy being built into almost every system, so purchasing a twin-engine airplane was my initial strategy.
Risk would be mitigated not only with the obvious redundancy of a second powerplant, but with the redundancies of other systems, i.e., alternators, voltage regulators, fuel pumps, hydraulic pumps, etc.
The not-so-endearing adage of “the second engine just brings you to the crash site” can’t be totally dismissed. Single-engine performance with some twins is meager at best, especially at low speeds during takeoff. That said, the second engine can certainly prevent (or delay) the inevitability of a landing off-airport.
Some twins can be purchased at seemingly low initial costs, but there is a reason. With redundancy comes the expense of repairing more systems, notwithstanding maintenance on two engines. I’ve never found a definitive data-driven review comparing expenses of a twin-engine airplane versus a single-engine airplane, but that’s probably because it’s difficult to compare so many apples to so many oranges.
In portions of one article, AOPA does make some cost comparisons between a Bonanza and a Baron. In addition, the organization has an online calculator to determine operating costs for almost every model of airplane; the more data that is inputted, the more accurate the answer. But the calculator doesn’t offer comparisons. Anecdotally, the number usually bantered about for operating a twin versus a single-engine airplane is three times the cost.
I eventually changed my strategy to purchase a single-engine airplane based mostly on the reward versus the cost of mitigating that risk in a twin. The argument can be made through accident reports that an engine failure in a single-engine airplane usually terminates at lower impact speeds, and thus fatalities are less frequent, whereupon twin-engine airplane accidents sometimes involve a delayed reaction in completing the appropriate tasks while the airplane rolls out of control.
In other words, a lot more critical procedures are involved with a twin after an engine failure. With a single-engine airplane, the procedures are simpler—get the nose down to an attitude that will correspond to best glide speed, quickly attempt a restart via checking the basics of fuel and ignition and then land somewhere safe.
It’s certainly your choice, but make the decision factoring in the risks, rewards and the extra cost of maintaining and flying a twin.
Prepurchase blunder
In my estimation, passing on the prebuy evaluation is tantamount to violating FAR 91.13, careless or reckless operation. Fortunately, in my world most potential airplane buyers consider the inspection a requirement. Although it will cost time and money to arrange, if you have to walk away from the airplane because of mechanical issues think of all the money you might have flushed down the toilet had you not completed the inspection. If the final outcome becomes a purchase, consider the inspection cost as an investment in the airplane.
No used airplane is immune from discrepancies. Even if the seller is a trusted friend, she isn’t aware of absolutely every discrepancy with the airplane. The regular mechanic may be a great source for overall information, but that’s not who should perform the prebuy inspection because that mechanic has a loyalty to the current owner. Find a neutral mechanic either at the airport where the airplane is located or have it flown to another airport, preferably within an hours’ flight time distance.
Oftentimes, the prebuy inspection is a moment for honest reflection. Do I take the airplane as is, do I negotiate with the seller or do I simply walk away from the deal?
Cherokee Six prebuy blunder
As my first airplane purchase, a prebuy for the Cherokee Six was an absolute must. Fortunately, I was accompanied and supervised by my A&P/IA friend. We had to fly commercial in order to reach the airplane’s location. Although the inspection was straightforward, a couple of discrepancies got our attention.
My mechanic friend was uncomfortable, but not enough to challenge its airworthiness. He left the decision in my hands. But I was a neophyte idiot at that time, so I pulled the trigger to purchase. After all, the airplane was a good price. But I should have listened to the hairs that were standing up on the back of my friend’s neck. The Six spent a lot of its time in the shop and that was my blunder. I’m writing off the ownership as a life lesson, but my wife … not so much.
Decathlon prebuy success
Once again I was fortunate to have the supervision of another A&P/IA for the Decathlon prebuy inspection. The only issue discovered was that the logbooks had a period of time when the airplane wasn’t flying—almost a year. The explanation was that the owner had shipped it back and forth to Israel as part of an Israeli air force flying club. The airplane hadn’t been flown much with the flying cub, so it sat idle.
In general, the Decathlon was in great shape. The bonus was that the engine was newly overhauled by the engine shop who was selling the airplane on the owner’s behalf. So, one of the most important parts of the airplane actually had a warranty.
Arrow prebuy blunder and success
The blunder part of my saga with the Arrow is that I didn’t involve a completely neutral mechanic to perform the prebuy. The seller volunteered to fly the airplane to a shop he’d used infrequently, which was conveniently located at an airport that my airline flew regular service to.
The chief mechanic of the shop claimed they had done some minor maintenance on the airplane and that was the extent of their involvement. The chief mechanic sealed the deal by conveying that he would be working for me and not the seller. How could I argue with that statement?
The seller’s broker was proactive in emailing photos of the airplane and logbook entries prior to my visit. He was also forthright in highlighting damage history involving a hard landing that had been repaired. Although I was well aware that damage history had a negative connotation, the Arrow was priced accordingly, notwithstanding that my lowball offer was accepted. The market had limited inventory at the time—none with the avionics equipment in this airplane.
The good, the bad and the ugly part came after flying the airplane for 25 hours. It was discovered that the hard landing repair was completed inadequately such that my mechanic friend deemed it non-airworthy. The good part was that after deciding to move ahead with the purchase, I had requested that the chief mechanic continue with the favorable prebuy inspection and transform the process into an annual inspection.
When I called to convey the inadequate repair situation after owning the airplane for a month, it didn’t take the shop long to realize its liability of having deemed the airplane airworthy after the annual inspection. With credit to the integrity of the shop, the broker and the seller, we reached an amicable compromise that involved a replacement wing without uttering the word “attorney.” Would the inadequate repair have been discovered by a neutral mechanic? Maybe—but I’ll never really know.
So, should you turn the prebuy into an annual inspection? Not unless you’re absolutely committed to buying the airplane and are willing to take the risk that a major maintenance item could be discovered. My airline pilot rationale for the Arrow was that I could start at ground zero with a fresh annual.
You get what you pay for blunder
An airline pilot fantasy is finding the airplane of your dreams at a bargain-basement price with the idea that renovation costs will remain within its market value. Upgrading the avionics, overhauling the interior and painting the airplane are just some of the strategies. Unless you hold an A&P certificate or have appropriate skills or have a friend who is willing to perform pro bono work, the plan usually isn’t viable. Why?
It’s the hidden costs that aren’t found on the prebuy inspection that start to add up first. And then the estimate to add those avionics or to paint the airplane is usually more than originally planned. At some point you’ll most likely chase a squirrel or two when issues are discovered while the airplane is being dismantled.
Unless you’re prepared for such contingencies, it is usually best to pay more for an airplane up front that another owner has already upgraded with their hard-earned finances. You’ll reap the benefits without the heartache and frustration. Even if the airplane is nearer the high end of the market, it’s a good bet that it will still be cheaper in the long run. If it’s a project airplane you desire, then by all means enjoy the process. Just be prepared to reduce your checkbook balance beyond what you had originally planned.
Aircraft logbook blunder
Reviewing an airplane logbook is a cross between art and forensic science. If it’s a task you’ve never performed, my suggestion is to look over the shoulder of your prebuy mechanic.
As a retired airline pilot, my experience with logbook reviews— which I conducted before every flight—was to read the discrepancy entered by a prior crew and then read the mechanic’s remedy, the vernacular being called a sign-off. But in a GA airplane logbook, only the sign-off is entered. So, by virtue of the maintenance entry, you may have to guess at the actual discrepancy if the verbiage isn’t obvious like an annual inspection.
Many examples exist of logbook gotchas, but consider the following common scenario: The airplane you’re contemplating for purchase has only 500 hours of total time indicated on the engine. But between the most recent entries and the prior entries, a time lapse of three years exists. Why was the airplane idle? Was it a matter of the owner having health or financial issues, or was a major problem found on the airplane that isn’t documented in the logbook?
And do you want an airplane that has been neglected? Perhaps if the time lapse has a plausible explanation, it can assist your prebuy mechanic to be on the alert for certain items like corrosion. I actually enjoy logbook reviews because it tells a narrative about the airplane and can reflect owner diligence. It takes practice, so don’t rush the process. Approach the review like you would a good novel.
It happens, so learn from it
At the end of the day, we have all blundered as airplane owners. The list of mistakes is certainly longer than five. The important lesson is that we continue to learn from those mistakes so we can move on to new blunders. But isn’t that the fun part of the process even if it does involve your Mastercard?
