|
North
American's Navion
Budd
Davisson
When we start talking about "fixing up"
our light plane for the new season,
there aren't a heck of a lot of types
that give us a choice between dressing
them in fatigues or civvies. There's the
Cub/L-4 and the rest of the grasshopper
series and you could probably repaint
your early King Air as a C-12. Even the
lowly Twin Bonanza could be passed off
as an L-21, if you have a well-developed
sense of humour. There are, however,
very few airplanes tht fit the "fix-em
up" category and combine a khaki
personality with serious civilian
utility. One of the leaders in that
narrow aero niche is the North
American/Ryan Navion, also known as the
L-17A, B or C.
The Navion/L-17 is a
series of extreme contradictions. For
one, it's an airplane people either
ignore completely or idolize as some
sort of flying diety. There seems to be
no in-between. I am one of the ignoring
crowd. I don't really dislike the
airplane. I just don't normally notice
it. Don't ask me why, I don't know. The
Navion just doesn't jump out and grab
me, which is a serious mistake.
I found out just how
serious a mistake when I recently
dropped in on my good compadre Jim
Clevenger in Marion, North Carolina. Jim
lives on one of those grassy valhallas
we all know exist, but never seem to
find. He strolls out of his house
directly to his SNJ or Swift or C-210
or...well you get the picture. We always
have a helluva good time down there
between burning up .45 ACP and Avgas. We
also spend a lot of time hangar flying.
At Marion that means shooting the breeze
about everything with everyone who walks
by. Naturally airplanes are on the top
of the conversation list.
The "manager" of the
Marion airport is Gene Padgett. Gene is
also the quintessential airplane trader,
having owned God-knows how many Swifts,
Luscombes and Navions. He runs in
streaks and I've never known him to have
less than two of any given airplane.
When he decides to leap on a particular
type, he leaps in waist deep. The last
trip, he was into Navions. He always
start talking about his current
aeronautical passion with, "...well, you
know, it's just a darned good old
airplane." If he owned a Custer Channel
Wing, he'd start the conversation that
way. So, I smiled when he started on his
Navion sales pitch. I nodded politely
and then remembered Gene had excellent
taste in flying machines and he knew I
wasn't going to buy anything. So, his
sales pitch had to have a modicum of
truth.
Probably the deciding
factor to get out of the chair and leave
the cool shade of the hangar was that
the Navion he kept pointing at wasn't a
Navion but an L-17A (yes. it's actually
a Navion, but military fatigues give the
plane a more macho air). I can only
remember climbing up on a Navion once
before in my flying career No make that
twice, if you count helping extinguish a
flaming engine on one. The last two
times I didn't spend 30 seconds looking
at the airplane, so I missed a lot of
the finer points that make the Navion
what it is,
One little detail I
found immediately interesting was to
foreshadow my overall evaluation of the
airplane: The welded step that dangles
down in front of the wing is not only
made of steel, but the step portion is
of diamond pattern boiler plate! Yep,
that said as much about the airplane as
anything. Every little piece of the
airplane was built to give service for
the next several hundred years. The
canopy rails look to be bullet-proof.
Knocking on the wing leading edge
results in a dull "thunk," like
knuckling the edge of a kitchen sink.
Sliding the canopy forward results in a
rumbling sound like rolling a piano
across a hardwood floor. Solidity
personified.
All this beef results
in an empty weight (according to my
trusty William Green
everything-about-airplanes book) of 1782
pounds. Well, the Navion shouldn't be a
featherweight. The useful load is just
short of 1000 pounds. That's impressive!
Let's see, four standard issue lard
butts total 680 pounds and the 40
gallons of fuel (20 more in aux. tanks)
adds 250 pounds, which leaves 70 to 100
pounds for baggage. No wonder the Air
Force took the little bird down off the
civilian shelf and put it to work.
A fact picked up
courtesy of Gene Padgett is that the
bird wasn't originally aimed at the
military. It was another of those
airplane-in-every-garage postwar
daydreams. Newly civilianized pilots
were supposed to gobble up the airplanes
and the sales would keep North
American's airplane plants busy. Only it
didn't happen that way. Civilianized
pilots were gobbling up Chevrolets and
getting the baby boom started. Had it
not been for the military stepping in
with their check-book, the Navion might
have wound up right next to the
Aeroflight Streak or the McKinnon 165 as
a still-born infant of the boom that
didn't happen. The military did step in,
in a very big sort of way.
Apparently they were
looking for something a general could
climb into as a passenger and feel as
comfortable as he did in his limo. The
same general could also fly it and not
break his out-of-practice neck. He would
also have to work awfully hard to break
the airplane. The combination must have
appealed to a general somewhere because
North American delivered over 900
airplanes to the government before
selling the license to Ryan Aeronautical
Corporation. Ryan delivered another 158
airplanes to the government and updated
some of the earlier airplanes. It seems
North American didn't need the work
because of an airplane named Sabre and a
place called Korea.
In total,
nearly 1100 Navions were built for the
military. Another 1100 were built for
the civilian market so, by 1951, over
2200 in total had taken to the air.
Probably the most important fact about
the Navion's longevity is that about
1400 of the machines are still listed on
the civil' register as being flying
airplanes. That is a survival rate of
about 60%, which may be the highest of
any airplane ever built - . . some of
these airplanes are 40 years old. What's
the survival rate of the rest of the
class of 1947? Doubt if it's that good.
The original
airplanes used the 205 horse Continental
E-185-3 engine with several different
propellers screwed on the front. You'll
see lots of variations but the most
common and the one Gene had on his
airplane is the original Hartzell
controllable, which is a "variable
pitch" prop. It isn't constant speed
since, at a given prop setting. moving
the throttle also moves the rpm. If the
pilot resets the prop, he can maintain
the proper manifold pressure/rpm
relationship.
The airplane got a
shot in the arm in 1951, when a geared
Lycoming was hung out front and the
horsepower rating jumped to 260.
Throughout the 1950s and early 1960s
someone was always reviving the Navion.
It got a bunch of different engines
shoehorned into the nose and even gave
up its sliding canopy when it became the
Rangemaster. Also, a dead stock Navion
is almost a rare bird since so many of
them have been modified. The most
popular mods get rid of a bunch of bars
in the canopy side glass but there are
dozens of other major changes in the
airplane as the result of the love
affair so many pilots have with the
machine. With the exception of the
canopy glass, Padgett's L-17A replica
was nearly a stock Navion.
Boarding a Navion is
a truly unique experience. I don't know
of another airplane that you climb over
the leading edge via the aforementioned
sturdy step. To steady yourself, a
handle which looks like it should be
pulling open a drawer full of wrenches
in your shop is fixed to the upper cowl
region. It really is a straight drawer
pull with no attempts to hide or
streamline the unit.
Once up on the wing
(and you are really "up;' about five
feet off the deck), the first impression
of the cockpit is that it is a yawning
pit the size of a 1000 gallon watering
trough. Getting in is a simple matter of
stepping over the sill into the broad
(and we do mean broad) area between the
front and back seats. It's almost a
silly feeling . . . walking around bolt
upright in a four place airplane isn't
possible! A short stroll between the
front seats is necessary to get to the
flight deck, where the pilot takes his
seat as if he was sitting down at a ball
park .. - all very civilized and very
different. This method is a great
arrangement, unless it happens to be
raining cats and whatever.
While climbing into
Gene's airplane and settling down into
the seat, it was impossible not to
notice the size of the instrument panel.
It was one of the very widest I've seen
in an airplane this size. And the
visibility? It's terrific!
A jab with the
throttle, a tap on the starter and the
engine cranked over and burst into that
characteristic harsh (sort of
agricultural sounding) exhaust tone. As
we taxied out to the runway, I made a
mental note as to my approximate height
above the ground because I knew I'd have
problems finding the runway when we
returned. Before dropping the hammer.
Gene explained the hydraulic system,
which is much like the momentary systems
on SNJs and early AT-6s, except it stays
on when actuated. The system has to be
activated by pushing down on a centrally
mounted button/lever which gives
hydraulic power to retract or extend the
gear. No push, no retract. If you throw
the gear lever down without activating
the hydraulics, nothing serious will
happen since the gear will unlock and
free fall into position.
We elected to go with
no flaps, but Gene showed me how the
book says to set them for takeoff,
should I need to know, Just twist the
control wheel all the way in one
direction, then lower the flaps to match
the aileron deflection. Great idea!
Unlocking the vernier and pushing in
gave me more noise than acceleration at
first, but then the airplane gathered
its aluminium wits and started down the
runway at a civilized pace. As the
controls felt life was being fed into
them by the building airspeed, the
control wheel was gently loaded which
obediently lifted the nosewheel clear,
letting me run on the mains. I continued
putting a load on the wheel and the
airplane skipped once and then lifted
off into a solid. no sink climb, A quick
punch of the button and moving the gear
lever started the gear up and we were on
our way.
Gene told me to hold
85 mph, which gave about 700-800 fpm,
climb with two people and nearly full
fuel. Even at this early point in the
flight it was easy to see why so many
love the airplane . . . it has an
incredibly steady secure feeling. Put
the Navion on a speed and it stays
there. Drop a wing into a turn, and the
plane will hold the turn by itself.
Once at altitude I
brought the power rack, completely
forgetting the prop wasn't a constant
speed. I wasn't paying much attention to
it until I noticed I was
constantly tweeking the prop control.
Then I remembered and let
everything stabilize before trying to
match the prop with the manifold
pressure. At 4000 ft MSL and 21
inches and 2100 turns, the airspeed
settled on 125 knots. Gene then said
something about ". . . does a great
barrel roll." This I ignored, although
there was some fairly noticeable
turbulence shortly thereafter that took
some unusual attitude recovery
techniques to tame.
There isn't much to
say about droning along in a Navion
except it does just that...drones along.
The Navion's roll rate is fairly
leisurely and the control pressures are
surprisingly light (like a Beech
product) and smooth, but otherwise you
could be cruising in your '51 Packard,
Honest! That's the only comparison I can
think of. No modern four place airplane
has the size and comfort of the Navion
and the panel, although not as jukeboxy
as many pf its peers, is remarkable only
for the amount of gear you could stuff
into the broad surface. With a little
forethought and modern instruments and
avionics, this thing could be set up
like a 757 and have room left for a
glove box. And yes, it would make a hell
of an instrument platform. Gene didn't
opt for the avionics, but he did add
little arm rests on each side of the
cockpit that are perfectly placed to
rest your arm while lightly holding the
control yoke I wouldn't have thought
such a small addition could do so much
for an airplane's cross-country comfort.
Coming back
into Marion I just dropped the nose and
let the airplane burn off altitude while
the speed built up to 150 knots or so.
As we came smoking into the pattern, all
it took was pulling the power and a
tight turn to bring us down to 100 mph
so I could get the gear out. And, yes,
at first I did forget to hit the
hydraulic button, but caught myself at
the last second.
Gear out, the Navion
didn't take much trim to hold it and I
went for half flaps on a wide base.
Turning final I stopped the flaps just
short of full and forced myself to bring
the airplane down to 70 mph which seemed
unbelievably slow for an airplane that
flew so much like a big airplane. It
wasn't until we were on short final that
I realized the Navion has the rock
steady characteristics usually
associated with much heavier airplanes.
We were obviously a little high and Gene
urged me to just drop the nose and let
it sink. This was done and the airspeed
didn't seem to know the difference since
we didn't gain 2 knots in what should
have been a 10-knot manoeuvre. With
everything hanging out, the machine has
enough drag you can get away with that
type of manoeuvre within certain limits.
All the way into the
airport Padgett kept telling me.
"...just land it like a Skyhawk, just
land it like a Skyhawk:" What he didn't
know was I couldn't remember the last
time I landed a Skyhawk. Drawing on dim
memories of forgiving machines which
like to have energy burned off before
hitting ground effect. I broke the glide
and started looking for the ground. Pull
it, pull it, hold it off... thunk! We
had arrived! I doubt if I've made a
first-time landing in any airplane that
was so easy. The nose was simple to hold
off, while we slowed on the mains, and I
had complete control over everything as
I let the nose come down. Gee, if a
Skyhawk is this easy to land, it must be
a sweetheart.
Like I said, it is a
serious mistake to ignore Navions. Here
is an airplane that has familiar names
like Delco Remy stamped on most of its
parts, making the airplane one of those
that relies on common sense, not super
sophistication, to support.
All of its systems
are ex-military, so they were designed
to be maintained by 19-year-old privates
who didn't want to be there in the first
place. Also, most of the systems are so
overbuilt, those same 19-year-old
privates couldn't screw them up and the
50-year-old generals couldn't break
them. If we want to start talking about
airplanes that are a fantastic basis to
start building from, then the Navion
should be one of the first discussed.
Paint it in the most bizarre civilian
scheme you can imagine and that's okay.
Or go to the other extreme and polish
the living hell out of it, throw on a
few stars and bars, then stand back and
salute the final product. What some
airplanes are all about is building them
to suit your own taste. That's
definitely what the Navion is all about.
specifications
|
Engine
make/model:
Horsepower @
RPM @ altitude:
Horsepower for takeoff:
TBO hours:
Fuel type:
Propeller make/type:
Landing gear type:
Max ramp weight (lbs):
Gross weight (lbs):
Max landing weight (lbs):
Empty weight (lbs):
Useful Load (lbs):
Payload (full fuel)
(lbs):
Usable fuel (gals):
Oil capacity (qts):
Wingspan:
Overall length:
Height:
Wing area (sq. ft.):
Wing loading (lbs/sq.
ft.):
Power loading (lbs/hp):
Wheel size (in):
Seating capacity:
Cabin width:
Cabin height: |
Cont. E-185
185 @ 2300 @
SL
205
1500
80/87
Variable
Pitch
Tri/Retr.
2850
2850
2850
1785
1065
705
60
10
33 ft. 5 in.
27 ft. 8 in.
8 ft. 8 in.
184
15.5
15.4
6.00 x 6 in.
4
47
47 |
|
aircraft database
