Keeping the nose down
until we had 85 mph on the clock, I waited
until we had 300 feet before cranking the
landing gear up. The handle is mounted on a
covered bracket between the two pilots at
the front edge of the seat. The polished
wooden grip showed it had been used plenty
and, as I grabbed it, I was mindful of
holding the landing gear handle with one
hand and the yoke with the other and I
imagined doing a push-me pull-you routine
that would result in a sawtoothed climb
profile. I was counting as I cranked but
there was no tendency to porpoise the nose.
As I counted into the
teens, my shoulder reminded me how torn-up
cartilage hated this kind of activity. By
the twenties I told Carl I was going to name
the article "Fly a Cruisair... if You're Man
Enough!" By that time the gear was going
over centre and moving easier. It wasn't
until the late thirties that the handle
stopped moving. Finally! It took 37 turns to
get the gear retracted. The screw jack
mechanism is its own up-lock and the
over-centre arm locks it down. There is no
internal gear position indicator. The pilot
knows if the gear is up or down by looking
at a half inch piece of painted metal
sticking through the surface of the left
wing root. The top is painted white, and
that's all that's supposed to be showing if
the gear is down and locked.
By this time, the
airplane was moving away from the ground at
about 700 fpm and not straining a bit. With
some airplanes, it feels as if climbing is
work but with that long wing, the Cruisair
didn't even break a sweat.
Carl and I talked about
this and we agreed that with some flying
machines, it takes a long time in them to
feel comfortable while others seem to fit
together immediately. The Cruisair fit
before it was even off the ground! For one
thing, the smallish cockpit seemed to get
larger as soon as we left the ground. More
importantly, the input of the controls and
the response of the airplane was perfectly
matched. The Bellanca seemed to know how I
wanted an airplane to feel. In a Cessna or a
Piper there is no doubt you are manipulating
a machine that flies. The mechanics of the
machine are always there to remind the pilot
that his thoughts and actions are translated
by a bunch of levers and gears that
eventually becomes flight. Not so the
Bellanca.
We're talking real
intangibles and possibly more than just a
little personal taste.
Whatever it is, the Bellanca has something
found in relatively few light airplanes.
That "just right" feeling doesn't happen
often - and almost never in four-place
transportation machines. The ailerons are
not only light, but response is immediate
without being twitchy. The breakout forces
exactly match the control forces so the
lateral control is a syrupy continuum, that
is the trademark of all Bellancas. When no
rudder is used, there is an amazing lack of
adverse yaw which would be expected with
wings that long. And the rudder and
elevator? They mix in so naturally with the
ailerons that little thought is given to how
they actually feel.
The Cruisair is a
40-year-old airplane and things like the
gear retraction system and elevator trim
reconfirm that age. The trim is mounted in
the middle of the top of the wind-shield and
faces the wrong way. . . the crank is
pointed forward. This is even worse than the
old Piper system. Fortunately the trim is
reasonably powerful, so the second it is
moved there is no doubt whether it is being
moved correctly. Exactly 50 percent of the
time I was wrong.
At altitude, I pulled the
carb heat and then the power, holding the
nose just above the horizon. Slowly the
speed bled off until I was sitting there
with the yoke against my chest, the airspeed
at 50-52 mph and the nose barely bobbing up
and down. The VSI read 700 fpm down. With
flaps the speed was well under 50 mph. We
didn't try stalls with the gear down because
I didn't know how much shoulder was left.
Most of the time we were
cruising around at 2400 rpm which gave an
indicated of about 132 mph. We wanted to do
some speed runs, but the St. Augustine area
isn't exactly flush with cornfields and
section lines so we had to content ourselves
with some two-way runs down St. Augustine's
8000 ft runway The results were a little
disappointing... 125 mph. In such a short
distance, any changes in altitude or heading
really affect the outcome.
At this point, a
discussion of speed is important. The
Bellanca Cruisair is an example of an
airplane that gets most of its speed out of
aerodynamics, not horsepower. The fuselage
is carefully designed to be an airfoil that
carries its own weight. The wings are long
and made to be slippery.
In fact, the entire
airframe is made to be slippery. Now, show
me one 42-year-old beauty that doesn't have
to work just a little to be slippery. Years
take their toll. Wing skins are wavy.
Fairings not tight. Maybe the wings aren't
rigged just right. In this particular
Cruisair, a little right aileron was needed
to keep it headed straight. On most
airplanes that would be no big deal, but on
a low powered. made-to-be-clean air-frame
like a Bellanca. the results are disastrous.
The boys who spend all
their time tinkering with Bellancas say it
takes only attention to detail and rigging
to get book speed numbers. And then, there
are a number of mods available that take
even more advantage of the airframe design.
Done with our speed runs.
I steeled myself for lowering the landing
gear. Bringing the speed down to 100 mph, I
started cranking and found putting the gear
down was much, much easier than bringing it
up. Something having to do with gravity, I
suspect.
On a tight downwind, I
reached way forward under the instrument
panel and found the flap handle, pulling it
back one notch for half flaps. The speed
stabilized at 85 mph with practically no
trim change. The same was true when full
flaps was selected on final and the speed
allowed to settle on 80 mph.
Approach was a simple
matter of pointing the nose at the numbers
and watching as the ground came up. Power
off, we settled into a groove that shallowed
out as I broke the glide and started feeling
for the ground. In earlier landings Carl had
found that with only two people on board the
airplane ran out of elevator in a three
point which put the Cruisair on the mains
with the tail several inches up. I knew no
way to prevent that, so I just concentrated
on the edge of the runway. keeping the
airplane straight and toying with the yoke
to keep just dear of the runway. By this
time the speed must have been (I was too
busy to look) in the low 50s and everything
was happening in slow motion. Then, I felt
the yoke hit the stop and at the same time
the gear squished on to the pavement. If the
tailwheel wasn't touching, I couldn't tell
because the touchdown was so slow and soft,
the plane just melted onto the runway.
We had reversed direction
on the runway and were landing opposite to
the direction we had taken off, so the wind
was from the left. And I knew it was there.
The wind and gear geometry called for
nailing the right rudder against the floor,
while the airplane ever so gently and slowly
moved to the left. This was happening in
slow, slow motion and I kept pleading for a
little right brake from Carl, but he sat
there heckling me for not being able to keep
it straight. Eventually, we coasted to a
stop and that was that. The airplane is very
low demand, as taildraggers go. Sort of like
a fat Citabria, only easier.
Normally, I would have
wanted to make a bunch more landings to get
comfortable in the airplane, but something
told me this wasn't necessary. Every single
part of the flight had been under total
control because the airplane had done
everything I asked. If the pilot asks the
Cruisair to do the right things, the flight
will always be a good one. And the critical
areas - such as takeoff and landing - happen
at such slow speeds. the pilot doesn't need
to be a Pitts type tail-dragger driver to
stay ahead of the Cruisair.
When we were sitting
around on Aero Sports' famed front porch (it
might as well have score cards to hold up
since everyone grades the landings so
vehemently) Carl and I both had the same
thoughts: The Cruisair airframe is a hell of
a good place to begin building a totally
useful. classic cross-country airplane. If
completely restored, the Cruisair would give
the pilot a classic machine that is every
bit as useful as anything available. And
with subtle, mostly invisible modifications,
the Bellanca could be a real hummer. It does
have some drawbacks, the condition of the
wood wings be-ing one and the smallish cabin
another. But those things are all livable.
Sitting in the back seat. I found my head
brushing the headliner but the unusual
windows gave the best view I've ever seen in
the back seat of an airplane.
This is not an every
person's airplane. To a lot of pilots, it
would be too classic and they wouldn't want
to worry about the fabric and the wood. They
might not like the tight cabin or the skill
requirement - small though it may be -the
tailwheel demands. These might overshadow
the air-plane's delightful handling and its
vintage charisma. For those pilots, there
are plenty of the more traditional choices
and that's understandable. Every pilot
should fly a Bellanca, any Bellanca. at
least once so they know what kind of choice
they are making. They should know what they
are missing. If they don't buy a Bellanca,
however, that's okay because it leaves that
many more of them for the rest of us!