I've had the airplane (a Pitts S-1S) in my hangar for nearly a month, but I finally flew it yesterday. YESSSS! After returning from my Pitts tune-up training in Phoenix last Thursday, I was anxious to get right out and fly the airplane before all that good learning drained out of me. But the weather gods were not cooperating, and a snowstorm arrived in New Jersey about the same time as me. My plans for a quick first flight were buried under six inches of snow. As it happened, the airport was plowed out within a day or two, but then the winds kicked up a bit and forced me to exercise the muscle that keeps you on the ground in the face of great temptation to fly. I had gotten no significant exposure to wind on this last Pitts training session, so Budd recommended that I stay away from crosswinds for a while. The forecast showed that the wind was to die down by Monday, so I made my plans for the first flight then.
It was just about the coldest day of the year yesterday (~20 degrees F), but at least the wind would not be a problem. I got out to the hangar to preheat the engine at around 9:00AM. I fired up the electric blanket, which was wrapped around the cowl, and a small electric space heater, which I placed under the engine (away from the fuel system!). Since the airplane has not lived in a cold climate before, I decided to be extra nice to the battery and give the preheat plenty of time- I left the Rube Goldberg setup in place for a couple of hours.
By the time the preheat was done, I had been joined by a fellow aerobatic pilot, Ron, who has been mentoring me through the buying-a-Pitts-and-then-flying-it-without-breaking-anything process. We pulled the airplane out of the hangar, and I zipped up all my layers of clothing, hopped in, and strapped down. I was surprised at how easily the engine started up.
After letting the engine smooth out for a minute, it was time to make my way to the runup area. Taxiing around in this airplane is a trip all in itself, because it has a Haigh locking/swiveling, non-steerable tailwheel. For those unfamiliar, the tailwheel locks in the in-trail position for going straight ahead, but casters around like the front wheel of a shopping cart when it's unlocked. Actually, the effect is more like turning a shopping cart around backwards, then trying to run down the aisle with it. I zig-zagged around the airport property, eventually making my way to the runway threshold.
I did my runup and other pre-takeoff checks. Then, waving to Ron, who was by now standing in the snow with a handheld radio, I pulled out onto the runway. After making sure the tailwheel was straight, I set it to lock in place. I went over the takeoff procedure once more in my head: stick back, feet awake, full power, count to five, forward stick to pick up the tail, then hold attitude and let the airplane fly itself off. Well, after I opened the throttle, I got about as far as two or three in the five-count, and the damned thing was off the ground!
I figured on climbing out at something like 110 MPH, which is a good 15 MPH faster than we had done in the training sessions. But I couldn't bring myself to pitch up enough to get the speed down below about 120 MPH! The ground was WHOOSHing out from under me- not just falling away, but WHOOSHing away. Between that and the steep pitch angle, it quickly became clear that Budd and everyone else were right- this little airplane really is a rocket! Now, I'm not normally a real demonstrative kind of guy, but I couldn't stop myself from yelping over the UNICOM like Slim Pickens riding a nuclear bomb! I reached pattern altitude before crossing over the departure end of the runway.
After flying out a few miles to get the feel of the controls, I re-entered the pattern for my first landing. It, um, didn't go very well, so I availed myself of the throttle nice and early, rather than let a bad approach turn into a worse landing. Next time around things were lined up a bit better, but I still kept the go-around option toward the front of my mind (as everybody keeps saying, there's not much that a straight left arm can't fix!). When it was time to break the glide, I decided that I could try to make a full-stop landing out of this approach. The airplane touched down a little firmly, and the spring-steel main gear chattered a bit before settling down. The noise level of the small main-gear tires and the even smaller tailwheel made me wonder if I had broken something, but everything continued to work as I corrected a couple of small swerves and gingerly applied the brakes. As I slowed and turned off the runway, Ron's voice on the radio reminded me that it was OK to breathe again- advice which I needed!
I did four more landings on that flight, including one fairly nice one where the tailwheel touched just a hair before the mains. It was a very good day.
Tom P.
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I believe it was more of a, "WHOO HOO HOO HOO!" thing.
