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Path: utzoo!watmath!clyde!cbosgd!ihnp4!houxm!vax135!cornell!uw-beaver!fluke!ssc-vax!wanttaja
From: wanttaja@ssc-vax.UUCP (Ronald J Wanttaja)
Newsgroups: net.aviation
Subject: Deadstick-  Straight-Tail 150 Engine Failure
Message-ID: <322@ssc-vax.UUCP>
Date: Tue, 29-Oct-85 00:36:33 EST
Article-I.D.: ssc-vax.322
Posted: Tue Oct 29 00:36:33 1985
Date-Received: Wed, 30-Oct-85 07:22:23 EST
Distribution: net
Organization: Boeing Aerospace Co., Seattle, WA
Lines: 119

Yup, and the score is aviator 1, cost/damage 0.

Today I flew to a nearby airport to refuel my 1965 straight-tail 150 at a
cheaper (Huh!) source.  Upon checking the fuel after refueling, I noticed
strange bubbles in the samples.  They stuck to the sides of the tube, not
rising or falling.  I asked my CFI, who was working there that day, about
them, and he didn't know what they were either.  I took off for the 8 mile
flight home.

I was nervous.  I blasted up to a higher altitude than I normally use for
the short flight (1000 ft agl) and kept a more serious watch for possible
forced landing points.

Three miles from home plate, the engine started running rough.  Carb heat,
mags, nothing seemed to make a difference.  The engine couldn't mantain
power.  I passed over a 500 foot ridge 2 miles from home, which gave me
more altitude to play with (the home drome is in a valley).  I was
approaching from the south, and the wind was southerly.  I was still plenty
high when I entered downwind leg.  Then, the engine started having serious
problems.  Considering the position, if I undershot in a upwind landing,
I'd hit high tension lines, but if the undershoot occured in a downwind
landing (a lower probability) I'd crash right next to Auburn's brand new
fire station.  Nuts to a nice conventional pattern.  We started a 270 degree
turn to set up on base for a downwind landing.  I chopped the throttle
(altitude 1200 ft agl, on 1/2 mile base) and, in my best Chuck Yeager
voice, called:

"Auburn traffic, Cessna 09T turning base for downwind landing on 34, I've
got engine problems so I'd appreciate it if you folks would clear the
runway down there."

Now, one thing I haven't mentioned yet... I had a malfunctioning airspeed
indicator.  One reason I'd gone to the other airport was to have my
mechanic look at it.  He wasn't there.  Sigh...

Anyway, there I wuz, on high base.  I dropped partial flaps (bless those
mechanical flaps- when I want them down, they are down NOW!), and, as I
turned final, dropped the full 40 degrees.  As I crossed the boundary road
and started my flare, the prop stopped... it had just been windmilling.
Landing, except for the quiet, was entirely normal.  I turned off at the
second turnoff, past a gaping-jawed student in a 152, and coasted to the
gas pumps (fill'er up, please :-) ).

I immediately called the place I had refueled, and they confirmed later
that the device that is supposed to cut off fuel flow when water was
detected didn't work.  They were extremely relieved that I was OK, and very
thankful that I had called them.

I pulled out the old trusty tester, and took a sample from the right tank.
100% water.  Second sample... 100% water.  Finally, using a clear tube and
a old oil can, I drained *at least* a full gallon of scummy water from the
fuel tank before red 80 octane appeared.  I started using the sampler
again, and, 10 minutes later, I was getting pure samples.  I remembered the
C-182 AD note about "Rock and Roll" preflight fuel checking, and waggled
the wings.  50% water.  I took ***2 1/2 HOURS*** to completely purge the
water from the fuel, using the "Rock and Roll" method, and the small
sampler.

The FBO had traced down the only other airplane that had refueled that
morning.  It was a Bonanza based at that airport, and had refueled after
landing.  They filled a three-gallon bucket with water from its tanks.

Some lessons learned:

1.  In my early days of flying, in dry North Dakota, I used to just squirt
a bit of gas from the drains before flying.  When I started flying in damp
Washington, I bought a sampler and checked the fuel.  Small water droplets
were detected and expunged.  These water drops were obvious, and I
think I got a little complacent about detection.  The little bubbles in the
contaminated fuel must have been water in suspension, caused by the
turbulence of the filling-up.
Lesson #1:  Let the fuel stand for ten minutes or so before sampling... let
that water settle out.

2.  I taxied the 150 back to its tiedown, after purging most of the water,,
because I had to get back to work (What?  Your airplane's engine quit?
Come on Ron, you can think of a better excuse than that! :-) ).  I finished
the job that night.  I had purged the gascolator before taxiing.  Later, after
finishing the tank purge, I took a samples from the gascolator.  The first
sample was good, but the second sample showed contamination.
Lesson #2:  Take more than one gascolator sample during preflight

3.  Another guy pulled up in a 150 and asked what I was up to.  I drained a
100% water sample.  His response?  "Yeah, I use autogas, too."
Lesson #3:  Autogas might be cheap, but so are pine boxes.  It may seem
silly to pay 50 cents a gallon for some red dye, but it does make SEEING
the water easier... or telling the difference between a sample of fuel and
a sample of water.  Autogas is clear, just like water.

4.  The main pucker factor period was the point where I was vaccilliating
between running a normal pattern and making a shorter approach to a
downwind landing.  Once I decided, I was a lot calmer.
Lesson #4:  Make your decision, then stick with it unless there are
definite reasons for change.  Once you are committed, confusion disappears
and you fly better.

(Pucker factor?  Hell, I was dragging the damn seat cover behind me when I
got out of the plane :-) )

5.  I mentioned that I was a bit nervous when I took off after fueling...
but then, I'm often nervous.  "Automatic Rough" is a common feeling, for
me.  But I guess it isn't a bad thing.
Lesson #5:  Space under your ass is like runway ahead of you and like
(uncontaminated) fuel in your tanks.  They're all equal to TIME.  The more
you have, the more breathing space you'll have for a decision, or to fiddle
with the engine, or to abort the takeoff, or look for an landmark.  Or more
gliding time and distance, in my case.

Lesson #6:  I will *never*, *never*, take off until I am convinced the fuel
in my tanks is as pure as Mother Theresa.

                                                 Ron Wanttaja
						 (ssc-vax!wanttaja)

But then, I have wrestled with the great
Aviation Ubismo, Engine Failure, and have wrested
a small victory.  Next time, it won't be "What's happening
to me???"  It'll be... "What!  Again!"  And I'll have
a higher probability of survival...