Weather Patterns

Our local cable TV provider offers an invaluable service that they make available even to their lowest cost customers on basic cable: they have a channel that does nothing but show Nexrad weather radar. The audio channel is used to transmit recorded weather forecast data. Lately it has sounded something like this:

“And now for the weather patterns affecting the Central Ohio Region: crappy, unflyable weekend weather followed by five glorious days that will taunt and frustrate you during the work week.”

This week, though, was a little different. We had a torrential downpour during the Friday homeward bound rush hour that slowed the commute significantly, but at least I wasn’t in the Miata with the top down this time. Saturday was forecast to be nice, and Sunday was promised to be even better. This weekend was planned to be another attempt at the trip to Niagara Falls with Wingman Ted, but unfortunately the bad weather we had on Friday reached the Niagara Falls region just in time to prompt yet another cancellation of the trip.

With fairly decent weather Saturday but the promise of better on Sunday, I decided to fly on Sunday and fill Saturday with a few hours of driving practice for Co-pilot Egg. Unlike when I was a teenager learning how to drive, the State of Ohio now has a requirement that a new driver log fifty hours of driving before being allowed to take the test and receive a license. We’ve been knocking out an hour here and there, most notably during our week at Oshkosh.

For her first ten to fifteen hours I’ve been very selective about the conditions she would be driving in. On our morning commute from West Bend to Oshkosh, I’d have her exit the highway for a driver change just before we reached a road construction area just south of Fond du Lac, for example. Yesterday I decided to up the stakes a little bit and let her try her hand at a more hostile environment: dealing with Saturday afternoon shoppers. But first, I let her try a few laps around the neighborhood in the Miata. I’m a firm believer in the idea that everyone should know how to drive a manual transmission. I’ve heard from others that weren’t taught how to drive a stick that it is very hard (bordering on impossible) to find someone to teach you later in life, so I thought I’d start broaching the subject with Egg.

That went about as well as you’d imagine, assuming you remember your first try at it. Once you learn it and get to the point that it’s as automatic (heh!) as using the turn signals, you tend to forget how difficult and confusing it was when you were first learning it. And to be perfectly honest, you probably shouldn’t try to teach someone else how to do it in a car that you care about. Having a sentimental attachment to the vehicle might lead to exchanges like this:

“Erika, you have to use the clutch if you’re going to stop with it in gear!!”

“I DID use the clutch!”

“Then, pray tell, why is the engine no longer running???”

So, yeah. That might have happened. Twice.

Still… after about the fifth lap of the neighborhood she was starting to get it. I think she’ll get a lot better at it with practice, but I don’t think we’ll try it on the roads quite yet.

Once done with that, we transferred to her preferred car. She seems more comfortable in the Forester than either of the other cars and with the challenges lying ahead I though there’d be great benefit in having her use the car she likes the most. The target of the driving challenge was a busy road full of strip malls and restaurants. And although this confession will likely spark a conflagration of “Why would you do that!” statements from the Co-owner, I told Egg that we could stop at CarMax and look at used cars in her price range. Hey, why should I be the only one harboring secret, unattainable dreams? With me, it’s the goal of building a plane; with Egg it’s the idea of owning her own car.

Speaking of building a plane, I really did some damage to that dream last week. It was a stupid thing to do, but it had to happen eventually: I measured the cellar door from the basement up to the back yard to see if an assembled wing would fit through. Well, it would fit through the door, but it wouldn’t fit the steep climb up the stairs. That pretty much kills the dream of building a plane. The only other way to do it would be to use two of the three bays in the garage. Those bays, inconveniently enough, are currently used to garage automobiles, and the idea of leaving one of the cars outside (the other would just be moved out as needed) for the three to five years it would take to build an airplane is unlikely to sit well. I’ve heard anecdotally that an arrangement like that causes significant friction. So, that’s that.

Although… I’m still tempted to build an RV-12 tail kit. That’s small enough to be built in the basement. Even if I never went on to build a full airplane, it would be easy enough to sell at cost. According to the guy for whom the garage situation is anything but anecdotal, all you lose when selling an in-work project is the cost of your time. That seems a good trade to me. I want to spend the time on it.

So, back to the driving with Egg. Having a firm destination in mind helps with the driving in that it provides an opportunity to not only practice driving, but to learn some of the local roads and routes as well. We started out on the highway where Egg capably dealt with a bit more traffic that she’s used to. I also pointed out areas along that route that she will want to remember in order to be in the correct lane. Little tidbits of advice like “stay in this lane because that one is going to be ‘exit only’ in a mile” should help avoid the dangerous situations you see when someone unfamiliar with the roads gets in a panic and tries to make a last second lane change, often with tragic (yet predictable) results.

Picking a destination that’s very hard to get to also afforded the opportunity to show her how to find alternate routes when the shortest way is not truly feasible. In the case of CarMax, getting there the shortest way involves coming off of the highway to a continuous lane, then having to get across three lanes of heavy traffic to make the left turn. Because you don’t have to stop as you come off the highway, people behind you get a little pissy if you stop to wait for a gap to make the lane changes. It’s better to just go down to the next intersection, make a left there, and work your away around the block back to the dealership. And other than some knucklehead pedestrian with a death wish (seriously, this guy just strolled across four lanes of traffic without a glance in either direction, his attitude essentially being “dare you to run me over”), the alternative route worked out very well.

Being a Saturday afternoon, CarMax had all of their sales people prowling around the lot. You don’t get very far without being intercepted. “So, what are you looking for?” is a more common pick-up line than “do you come here often?”

“We’re just window shopping today, but we have three requirements:

– $10,000 or under tag
– no sports cars
– no large horizontal spaces.”

Sales guy: “[LOL] I understand that last one – I have three daughters myself. I suspect at least one grandchild probably came from that.”

Oh, and I told him that Egg was just training and we came all the way up there just to practice difficult traffic conditions, and how we’d gone around the block rather than try to make those lane changes right off the highway.

“I do that too!”

He also told Egg that he had taught all three of his daughters how to drive a manual transmission and that although it may seem impossible now, it would get much easier with practice. And, because he’s a salesman and therefore required to agree with everything I say, he agreed that a Mazda 3 would be a good choice for her.

We weren’t there long, but it was long enough to get caught. I responded to a text message from home requesting that we bring food back with a terse “We’re all the way up on Sawmill Rd.”

To which I received a very predictable reply: “What are you doing all the way up there?”

And here’s where I unintentionally taught Egg a very bad lesson: “Going to Trader Joe’s.”

Which was the truth since I needed to go buy more coffee beans, but not quite all of the truth. Some day I’ll get hoist on that petard. If I’m lucky, at least it won’t involve the inappropriate usage of horizontal vehicle space.

We stopped for lunch on the way back which unintentionally put us in place for another valuable lesson: how to get out of the way of a speeding fire engine. Closely followed by the “what do I do to get around this car wreck instead of sitting here all afternoon” lesson. So, good experience for her. Bad experience for the poor folks that inadvertently constructed the learning opportunity.

Three hours of frantically pushing at a non-existent brake pedal on my side of the car was enough; we called it a day.

Sunday dawned with a very nice Weather-out-the-Window&trade forecast:

The remainder of the day was forecast to have a scattered layer of clouds at 3,500′. Being as flat as Ohio is, we’d be OK just staying under them if we didn’t want to spend the time climbing over them. The winds were expected to be out of the northwest at 8 knots, which is just fine. Departing on runway 22 put the crosswind on our right side, and eight knots of it was pretty much just enough to completely moot the need for the normally required boot full of right rudder. We had a pleasant, smooth, and scenic flight down/over:

We stopped by Rick Gray‘s RV shop, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be there:

He wasn’t, but that didn’t stop us from peaking through the windows. What a great workshop! Color me jealous. From there it’s just a short walk over to the airport terminal where the restaurant is. Now here’s something you don’t want to arrive to:

Closed!! How could that be??? Fortunately, I walked a little further down the hall and found the ‘Coffee Shop’ entrance. They apparently open that on the weekends when they think the whole dining room is too much bother to open. That’s fine, really, but they ought to put a sign on the other door. I wouldn’t have walked down the hall if I hadn’t been going to see this:

I asked Co-pilot Rick if he knew why the bear was waving. He didn’t. Seems obvious to me: “Because he’s gotta split!”

Seriously, I don’t know why he flies with me.

We departed out of Parkersburg and headed west along the river:

As we started heading northwest towards Bolton, we found ourselves just under the promised puffy clouds at 3,500′. Puffy clouds mean bumpy air, and bumpy air means it’s Rick’s turn to fly. I busied myself with diddling around with the Garmin 396 checking weather observations. Bolton was reporting sky clear while Rickenbacker, just a few miles away, was reporting a ceiling at 1,900′. Both were wrong. I guess I have to learn to take the XM METARS with a healthy grain of salt. Here’s what it looked like the whole way:

It’s neat to fly below the clouds. We have to stay at least 500′ below them to comply with the federal regs, but that’s still close enough that they lend a real sense of speed that you normally don’t get. The RV was cooking along at 140 knots, so that visual indication of just how fast that really is was pretty cool. But yes, it was a little bumpy.

I took over the controls from Rick after I accidentally put a wingtip two feet into the Columbus Class C (a fact that the Garmin dutifully informed me about post haste) and managed a pretty good landing at Bolton, considering the conditions. Sometimes entering on the base leg as we did today will result in me being a little high on final, and today was one of those days. It happened at Parkersburg too, but with the hostile terrain down there and the very-long runway, that’s no big deal. It’s actually a good thing.

But back at Bolton, the effort to rid myself of inconvenient altitude ended up making me fast on final too. The flaps were able to absorb that excess potential energy, but I allowed them a little too much latitude. By short final I was at 70 mph and dropping like Paris Hilton’s pants (ooh, sorry about that one!). Landing a short-winged plane like the RV-6 in an energy state like that is similar to an auto-rotation landing in a helicopter: you have enough energy for one, and only one, attempt at the flare. You’d better get it right the first time!

I did.

Of course, it’s not like the engine wasn’t running – I could have added a blip of throttle if I didn’t get it right. Still, good practice.

As I pulled into my driveway at a little before noon, I couldn’t help thinking that I probably would have stayed home if the Weather-out-the-Window&trade had looked like this:

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Another option for the "Planes I’ll Never Get Around To Building" list

I’ve been leaning towards the RV-12 mostly due to the benefits of the Light Sport rules, but I’m not convinced that it is the plane to have if I ever realize my dream to move to the mountainous areas of the southwest. I’d really like a more rugged, bush-flying type of plane for that region. There are a number of Citabrias and Aviat Husky options, but those are store bought and therefore more expensive to acquire and maintain.

Image shamelessly purloined from EAA Chapter 57’s web site

I’ve always thought the Glasair Sportsman would be a good choice, and I really like the idea of their Two Week to Taxi program, but with the recent regulatory review of homebuilding rules by the FAA, I was concerned that the program would be shut down. Naysayers in the homebuilt world are vocal about their disdain for the program, and strongly believed that it went against the grain of the regs.

That appears to no longer be a disqualifying issue:

Two Weeks To Taxi Approved
By Russ Niles, Editor-in-Chief

Glasair’s controversial Two Weeks To Taxi program, in which builders of Glasair Sportsman aircraft build an almost-complete aircraft in two weeks at Glasair’s facitlity in Washington State, has been endorsed by the FAA’s Production and Airworthiness Division after a week-long audit. “The FAA’s on-site team found that the “lean manufacturing” processes employed, combined with the provided educational assistance, accelerates the Sportsman build time significantly without violating the spirit or intent of Part 21, Section 21.191(g),” the company said in a news release.

More than 100 Sportsmans have been built in the program, in which company staff lay out tools, round up the necessary parts and provide instruction to customers who, according to the FAA’s findings, do at least 51 percent of the work. “We have worked very, very hard to develop a program that makes aircraft building more accessible, more organized, and as efficient as possible, while staying within the letter and spirit of the amateur built rule,” said Glasair CEO Michael Via. The company says it will expand the program. The decision would seem to set the tone for the current discussion by the FAA’s Amateur-Built Rulemaking Committee, which is reviewing the level of participation required by builders in all aspects of the construction of their aircraft. Among those auditing the Glasair program was Frank Paskiewicz, who heads up the FAA’s Production and Airworthiness Division and is a key member of the 51 percent rule committee.

The biggest issue with the Glasair remains the same, though: it costs at least three times what an RV-12 would cost. When you consider that the RV-12 is about 13 1/2 times more expensive than I can afford in the current economic client, well, you can see my dilemma. But long term? It seems like it would be an incredible two weeks, and you one great mountain/travel plane out of it too. For now it’s just good to know that it’s still an option.

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Why do we fly?

While the Weather-out-the-Window(tm) forecast is still a critical determining factor regarding whether or not I fly on any given day, its primary decision-making power of late has been usurped by the How-do-I-Feel-Today(tm) forecast. The cold that I came down with a couple of weeks ago lingered around like grungy February weather and had pretty much the same effect that weather like that has on my ability (and desire, for that matter) to fly. Which is to say: I don’t fly. As one would expect, the actual Weather-out-the-Window(tm) for almost the entire two weeks was incredibly nice. I had to satisfy myself that I was extracting at least a modicum of benefit from what is likely to be the last nice period of weather for the next three or four months by sitting on the front porch reading with Brave Sir Hogarth. He doesn’t read, of course, but he enjoys the company when we sit out there together. His entertainment comes from sampling the scents in the light breeze flowing by, and watching for other dogs to walk by.

The head and chest cold that had plagued me for far longer than I had hoped it would finally broke mid-week, not coincidentally on the exact same day the fine weather ended and was replaced by high, cold winds and a general sense of winter to come. Today, though, we finally had a confluence of reasonably good weather and good health. The winds are light, but there’s a pretty solid layer of clouds at the 6,000′ level and about six or seven miles of visibility in light haze. And just as importantly, it’s forecast to stay that way. The forecast last night, as it turns out, was pretty accurate in that regard, so I had a chance to pre-arrange a flight. I usually use a pre-plan option like that to give rides to folks that have expressed an interest.

This time around, the next on the list was an offer made by the Co-owner. While she doesn’t fly with me all that often, she does take quite a bit of pride in PapaGolf. In fact, for most of the year she drives the Subaru that has the AOPA and EAA decals on it along with the nifty RV decal that a previous rider gave to me as a thank-you for the ride. She had the Subie in to the dealer for an oil change when one of the service representatives asked her about the decals. As they chatted, he mentioned that the other representative (Ann) was a student pilot and would really like a ride in Papa. The Co-owner carries a few of the nifty little business cards that I had made for the blog with her and gave one to Ann, along with a promise that we’d call and arrange for a ride.

Last night, when the forecast indicated that I would more than likely be able to get in at least a morning flight, we called and checked to see if she’d be interested in taking a ride and if so, would be available. It turned out that early morning worked best for her schedule which, as we all know, fits my preferences perfectly. We arranged for an 0800 meeting at the airport gate. It wasn’t until later that I got to thinking I probably should have made an affirmative confirmation that we were talking about the new 0800 rather than the previous EDT version, but that turned out to be a non-factor. Bright, shiny, and right on time – those are the pax that I like the most! The early start time had the additional benefit of allowing me to get out of the house prior to Co-pilot Egg and two fellow members of the Junior Varsity All-Girls Giggling Club emerging from the den of last night’s sleepover. Bed head on teenage girls is a sight to be avoided whenever possible as far as I’m concerned. Plus there’s always the remote risk that I might get tagged to make breakfast. Not worth chancing, iffen ya got the option.

As it turned out I was a little later than normal getting out of the house, even with the additional Congressionally mandated extra hour working on my behalf, so I had only gotten as far as getting the hangar door up (I have to confess, I really missed my hangar frog) when I saw the big maroon pick-up heading down the airport driveway, right on time. We parked our vehicles and chatted a bit as I did the preflight inspection. Naturally, I had a lot of questions about how her pilot training is going, where she’s doing it, what she’s flying, and how far along she was. And, of course, the ubiquitous “How’d you two meet?” question: what made you decide to start flying?

That last question prompted a lot of discussion which I’ll share later, so I’ll just bullet the curriculum vitae for now:

• Less than 10 hours, pre-solo
• Flying out of Delaware County, about 22 miles north of Bolton as the Cleared-through-Class-C-airspace crow flies.
• Flying a Tecnam Bravo, a nifty little high wing LSA:

Tecnam Bravo

I’m very interested in LSA airplanes these days as I continue to ponder the trade-off between the LSA’s benefits of not requiring an FAA physical and relatively low operating costs aspects and the 155 knots on tap with PapaGolf. If it wasn’t for the 45 knot difference, the choice would be obvious. Interestingly, Ann’s plans are to pursue the full-blown Private license rather than the LSA rating. I saw it’s interesting mostly because she said that it took a few months of FAA frustration to get her class III physical because needed a waiver for some previous medical issues, and she wouldn’t even needed a physical to fly the LSA plane that she’s training in now. That said, if your ultimate goal is to have the enhanced privileges that come with the full rating, it certainly pays to know you’re going to be able to reach that goal before starting down what is inarguably a long, expensive path.

The Tecnam itself turned out to be the impetus for her deciding to learn to fly in the first place. She and her husband had taken advantage of the Mustang fly-in and airshow hosted at nearby Rickenbacker AB last year to go out and see some airplanes fly. The Air Force Thunderbirds were there (although we both agreed that the Navy Blue Angels typically put on a superior show and with me being a former Air Force guy, that’s saying something) along with the hundred-plus P-51s that gave the show its name. Apparently there was also a display of the Tecnam owned by a local flight school, and something about it inspired them to both get licenses and work towards the long-term goal of owning an airplane. It was decided that she’d get her license first, with his to follow. The Tecnam is based at Delaware (KDLZ), which is why why she started flying there rather than at the much-closer-to-home Bolton Field.

With that baseline, I was able to point out the things that would be different from what she’s used to with the Tecnam. The low wing of the RV versus the high wing of the Tecnam was obvious, of course, but less obvious was that the engine would be turning at about half the RPM of the geared Rotax in the Tecnam. I’m in the habit of providing directions as to how to put on the seat belt and shoulder harnesses, but the last two times I’ve flown with a young female rider, I haven’t had too. If you remember, Pretty Girl was taking lessons in a similarly equipped Cessna. Ann too needed very little assistance because they were “just like the ones in my race car.” Now, as you can imagine, that’s the kind of statement that opens a whole nuther line of conversation. We’ll get to that in a bit. In any event, it was time to determine a destination. I had planned for a breakfast at Urbana, but if her time was tight we could just fly around the local area. The breakfast plan was approved.

All saddled up and strapped in, we cranked Papa’s engine. I only primed three strokes, although I was tempted to add a fourth in consideration of the cooler temps and two week layoff from flying. Three got it done, but it was a five blade start rather than the one or two that are more typical from the ever eager Papa. Flying out of Delaware, an uncontrolled field, Ann hadn’t had any experience with working with a control tower and in retrospect I probably should have done more to describe what was going on. We had plenty of more interesting stuff to chat about, though. The winds were light out of the northeast, so we had the long trek down to runway 4 to fill with conversation. The run-up complete, we took to the newly painted runway for departure.

When flying off of runway 4, I like to use the mile of runway and beneficial attributes of ground effect to get up a good head of steam before a brisk climb to pattern altitude and a turn towards the open fields west of the airport. If I remember correctly, it was during the post liftoff climb and turn that Ann fully realized the difference between an RV-6 and a Tecnam Bravo. I’m basing that assumption primarily on the roller coaster “Wheeeee!!” that was piped into my headsets, which I think is usually a pretty reliable indicator. Once we were away from the airport and close enough to our planned cruising altitude of 3,500′, I offered her the stick so she could try her hand at flying. I’m always curious about how people will respond to their first handful of that luscious RV handling; half will over control, the other half are very, very gentle. Ann was in the latter half.

She flew awhile and then, as is my wont, I took over to show her how an RV can handle some of the maneuvers she will be making later in her training. Steep banks and such feel far more natural in the RV than they do in airplanes that are designed and engineered for the more sedate life of a trainer/rental. My experience is that people either really get a kick out of a steep bank in a full canopy airplane, or they don’t. If they don’t, the remainder of our ride is as smooth and gentle as the ambient weather conditions permit. Those that do enjoy the aggressive air work are welcome to more of it if they’d like. Ann liked it, so we spent a few minutes exploring a wider flight envelope in both the pitch and roll axises. Experience has shown that this is the kind of thing that is better experienced on the way to breakfast rather than on the way back. Trust me on this. Again based on the sounds in the headset, I think the E-ticket ride was the perfect choice and well accepted.

The RV Grin

Urbana traffic was pretty light when we got there, with only an RV on downwind and a Velocity behind us. We fit easily into the flow and arrived with a slightly bouncy landing that I’m going to score as an ‘8’. It wasn’t too bad considering the recent layoff and the mild chop of the 6 knot crosswind. Over breakfast we delved deeper into the reasons to pursue a pilots license. Ann, as a self-described gear head, has very similar interests to mine. There are a number of reasons to want to fly, ranging from the desire for fast travel to the appreciation of the natural beauty visible only from the air to the desire to master the challenge of the operation of a complex piece of equipment in a complex environment.

We both, as it turns out, fall mostly into the latter category. I have always been fascinated with airplanes; flying them was a natural extension of that. It’s like generations of kids before me that grew up fascinated with railroad locomotives. After all, how fun can it be to drive a locomotive once you get over the initial thrill of not having to stop for railroad crossings? But as powerful, complex machines, they provide a fascination and passion for some folks that is a cousin to my feelings about airplanes. Of course with airplanes, there is a much higher degree of satisfaction whenever you fly one. Mostly, I suspect, because of the freedom one gets from not being stuck to a pair of rails and doing 65 mph. This fascination with fast, high performance vehicles also explains why both Ann and her husband race drag racers. It also explains why my Bucket List has a preponderance of things in it like operate a backhoe, drive a tank, and fly a helicopter.

After breakfast, and secretly hoping for a more gentle ride home.

Being as both Ann and her hubby are gear heads, we spent a little time chatting about options in the airplane ownership world. My suggestion to her was to take a good look at the Vans RV-12. I think they’d get a kick out of building it together, and once it was done they’d have an airplane that is comparable to the performance of the Tecnam at half the cost. It makes a lot of sense for them in the same way that it does for me: the cost can be spread across years, the work is for the most part fun and educational to do, and if you ever decide you can’t finish you can recoup most (if not all) of the money you have invested in it. It’s kind of a shame, though, that you can’t test yourself at a relatively low cost by building a tail kit, the traditional rite of initiation in building an RV.

The flight back to Bolton was smooth and easy, culminating in another ‘8’ landing. I have a follow-up to take care of still: I promised her that I’d send contact info for a good CFI that flies out of Bolton, which would both reduce her driving distance significantly and get her into a Cessna 172 for the same money she’s paying for the Tecnam. If she’s going for the full-blown Private, I think a 172 is going to be a better fit both for training and the type of flying she will do after training. Once I get that obligation fulfilled I’m going to relax and enjoy the glow that I get from flying, a glow that is particularly bright on those days when I get to share the Papa Experience(tm)with someone that really gets it.

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The Bucket List

The new bucket list over there on the right sidebar has listed as one of its items ‘Build an airplane.’ Make no mistake: I am under no illusions as to what that means. Even a “quick build” kit requires years of effort and devotion. My take on the whole thing is that it is a great thing to do if you’re trying to productively fill your time, but not so much if you’re at the stage in life where you have to find time. Keep in mind, though, that my viewpoint on this is heavily biased by the fact that I already have an airplane. I’m afraid my motivation would be in great danger of flagging during the years of effort required to build something as complex as an airplane if I, you know, already had one.

The number of hours that go into a project like this are staggering. For example, Bob Collins is building an RV-7A, and recently completed one part of the canopy that took a total effort of 235 hours spread across three months! As a comparison, the only significant building project I’ve completed (the kayak) took a total of 80 hours, spread across six months. A few minutes of introspection into my working habits, patience, diligence, and competing demands on my available time indicates to me that I will have to select from one of three possible strategies:

– start now, with the goal of completion being very, very far in the future. There is an RV-6 based at Bolton than took 14 years to build. That approach is viable in that it spreads the time and dollars demands to a sustainably thin level, but creates other issues. For example, what if that 14 year builder had decided halfway through that his flying needs would no longer be met by an RV-6, and that he needed some other model? Given that to this very day I cannot decide which plane I would want to build, this path seems rife with risk.

Another problem is that you can’t economically test yourself on a smaller project such as building a tail. The tail kit isn’t hugely expensive relative to the remainder of the plane, but you need a lot of tools to build it. The cost of the tools and building a work shop easily exceed the cost of the tail. And, of course, if you decide not to press forward after the tail you have a lot of tools on your hands, and a tail with no airplane.

– wait until I’m either fully or semi-retired. This would alleviate the time concerns, but exacerbate the funding concerns. Between being on the dreaded fixed income by then and the increased building pace dictated by having more hours to fill, it would be harder to afford.

– Build something simpler than a “legacy” RV. This is where something like the RV-12 would appeal – it allegedly requires roughly half of the hours of one of its bigger, more complex brethren. Still, it has a canopy. Having followed Bob’s progress on his canopy this summer, I’m not sure I could ever get that part done. An open cockpit RV-12? Hmmm.

Well, there is in fact a fourth option: modify the bucket list.

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