It can be tricky sometimes to be both an aviator and an environmentalist, but it's getting easier all the time. Every week we're seeing more stories about biofuel research and electric-powered airplanes. The effort to fly Solar Impulse around the world may not deliver practical technology for GA right now, but it wouldn't surprise me if 10 or 20 years from now we're seeing photovoltaic cells across every airplane's wings, even if they're only there to power some iGadget that you can't live without.

And it's a good trend to see more GA OEMs marketing their aircraft as fuel-efficient. With an iffy economy and uncertain fuel prices, efficiency is not only good for the environment, it's good for sales and good for pilots' finances.

But there's another way we can help to reduce GA's environmental impact and at the same time make it available to more people. That would be more and better shared ownership options.

While we're used to thinking of the environmental impact of emissions, we don't usually hear about the impact of the machines that produce those emissions. Cars, for example, represent a huge environmental cost. All those materials that go into the vehicle and its engine and tires come with a life-cycle impact -- mining, transporting, manufacturing, disposing -- that can wreak all kinds of havoc on ecosystems along the way. All for a vehicle that sits idle for probably 22 hours out of every day, just taking up space.

All things considered, that life-cycle cost for airplanes seems to me less egregious than for cars. Especially when we look at the light end of the fleet -- a two- or four-seat airplane weighs less and uses fewer materials than a comparable car. And most airplanes probably are used for more hours per day than the average automobile. But still, maximizing the use of each airplane just makes sense for minimizing both the environmental impact and the economic costs.

So programs like LetsFly that aim to make it easier to share ownership are good for your bank account, but they are also good for the planet. You can have a quarter-share in a Legend Cub for as little as $2,900 down, and fly for $400 a month and about $28 per hour. Fuel burn is under 6 gph, so at 100 mph that's about 17 mpg. Not great, but better than many gas-guzzlers on the road, and a lot more fun than sitting in traffic.

But the real advantage is that instead of building four airplanes, you've built only one. That might seem less significant when we're talking about a simple and light airplane like a Cub -- and personally I can't imagine that we'd ever have too many Cubs in the world -- but when we're talking about transportation systems, fewer units, used more intensively, makes more sense.

Let's face it, whatever you think about global warming, fossil fuels are a pretty lousy sort of energy to build an economy on. They're dirty, inefficient, hard to find, bulky, and difficult to transport, to say nothing of the geopolitical baggage. The emissions are full of toxins that persist in the environment and are probably carcinogenic to boot. We can do better.

So the future looks a little brighter -- and a little bit closer -- every time a pilot takes off in an airplane that pushes that green envelope.

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As readers of this blog know, I am no wall flower when it comes to complaining about bad customer service. There's a lot of it out there, which makes those rare examples of exceptional service stand out all the more. Today's blog is about one of those.

The economics of publishing and aviation being what they are, I rarely have the pleasure of flying a light airplane on an editorial assignment. Usually, the only choice is a quick airline flight out and back. This week had its shining example when I had one day to get to Philadelphia, shoot photos and video for an article, and return that evening. I left the house at 5 a.m. and got back at 2 a.m. the following day. No complaints. That's just the way it is sometimes.

I normally fly out of Tampa which is, by my lights, one of the world's great airports. The architecture is perfectly suited to the task, the location is good, fares are competitive, the terminal has free wireless—a huge plus for me—and there are laptop workstations in some waiting areas. Whoever runs the place cares enough to keep it sparkling clean.

Contrast that with Philadelphia where the power outlets in the concourses either don't work or hang out of their boxes and the bathrooms sometimes make a military latrine seem like a five-star hotel. Tampa has a cellphone lot, Philly has cops who chase people away from idling on the feeder route shoulders.

Tampa has a great economy parking garage, but it has one glaring weakness: the automated terminals to accept credit payments don't work very well. You stick your card in the slot and either nothing happens or the automatic gate won't open. This week, I experienced the mother of all malfunctions, requiring about a dozen cars to back up to reposition into other lines to find a working terminal. Only one terminal finally did, after numerous tries. This is the last thing I want to be doing at 1 a.m. So I complained.

Within hours, I got an e-mail from the airport authority to call them. (What's this, some kinda hoax?) Nope, the airport authority's David Gavenda questioned me at length about what happened and when. We talked for 15 minutes and he pledged to look into it and get back to me. This strikes me as exceptionally competent public management and good customer response.

Try that in New York. Or Boston. Or Philadelphia. Now I can hear the excuses forming up already—those airports have far more humanity streaming through them than Tampa does, so you have to expect them to be filthy and staffed by people who tend toward the surly. If you think surly doesn't apply to Philly, you haven't visited recently. And by the way, Philadelphia ranks 17th in enplanements, while Tampa is 26th. Not that much difference.

I submit that customer orientation has less to do with size and everything to do with how the airport managers view their job. Do they take pride in their facility? Do they care what people think of it? That sort of thing is somehow encoded in the cultural DNA and businesses that have it are just standouts.

Tampa Airport is one of those. And it's worth saying it.

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One thing that's most noticeable in the current economy is that everything is negotiable. Customers can expect some wiggle room on prices from businesses they buy from, vendors selling to businesses are becoming ever eager to play let's make a deal. This is especially true in aviation, where many businesses are struggling mightily to keep the doors open. As the economy retracts, prices soften.

As the air show season gets fully underway, we will soon see if the organizers of these events have gotten that message, especially the food and catering vendors. One thing that frosts me about the big shows is that the cost of food at these events is nothing short of usurious. In flush times, I think most of us grin and bear it, but these aren't flush times and from my e-mail and conversations, irritation with what's seen as abuse of the show goers is likely to rise to the surface. So, will the vendors continue to squeeze us, or will they wise up and roll back prices to something reasonable?

I don't know enough about show economics and business plans to reveal the truth behind $6 hot dogs and $4 bottles of water. For reference, bottled water in a convenience store is under $2 and hot dogs are a third of what they are at a typical air show. Now I understand there's a cost related to setting up a temporary tent, staffing it and breaking it down after the show. But I fail to see why this requires a doubling (or more) of prices. Modify that: I fail to see why just because you've got a captive audience, you feel it to be good business practice to employ market-will-bear pricing on people who just want a nice outing for a day or two.

The aviation industry is flat on its butt. Many marginal participants are on the verge of abandoning it entirely and I wonder how many of them will have that switch flipped by the $40 lunch for four.

So, to the air show industry, this is the year you might want to think about carving the margin down in the food court. We're all trying to save the industry in any way we can, even to the extent of one $4 hot dog at a time.

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Kudos to Lancair International.

Here's a company that is confident in its product, proud of its abilities and honest with anyone who's interested in what they do.

Even when there's a screwup.

Last week, the company flagship Evolution Turbine prototype landed about two feet lower than it normally does. Accidental gear-up landings are always embarrassing and there is no excuse for them.

So it was refreshing that Lancair didn't offer any. In a detailed news release (PDF) which left no doubt how it happened, who was at fault and what the consequences were, names were named, the action plan was detailed and no excuses were offered.

No one was hurt, the plane should be flying by the time you read this and life will go on. Breathtaking.

We ran the story, as did most other aviation outlets, and there wasn't a single misunderstanding among our collective hundreds of thousands of readers as to what happened.

The way these things sometimes go is that someone will tip us but won't have the detail we need to run a story so we'll try to get the information we need from company officials who think the world will end because a distracted pilot forgot the gear (which happens daily, at least).

So, we dig in, we talk to people who may or may not know what's going on and we do the best we can to give readers a picture of what really happened.

The truth is, we probably never get even close to the accuracy of the clear, concise and beautifully honest news release Lancair issued. (Again, the PDF can be read here.)

Thanks.

Sometimes it's easy to present the news.

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When you cover aviation as we do at AVweb, a certain siege mentality sets in. The field is broad, literally and geographically, and as with every other aspect of journalism these days, we work with minimal resources and even less time. So when we venture afield to try a new airplane or shoot a video of a show or a new product, everything is chop-chop, hurry it up, get done, move on to the next thing.

In this hectic environment, it's easy to lose sight of why we fly in the first place, which is often for the pure fun of flying little airplanes just for the hell of it. I am especially susceptible to this because one of my dozens of character flaws is an unyielding adherence to the practical. I expect expensive things to deliver practical advantages that make them worth the money you pay to have them. So I need people like Kerry Richter to rock my world once in awhile.

Richter is president of Progressive Aerodyne and co-designer of the SeaRey LSX light sport amphib. Jeff Van West and I ventured into the heart of steamy Florida yesterday to give the airplane and whirl and shoot some video, which will be posted on AVweb shortly. Seaplanes and amphibs add a dimension to flying that's hard to grasp until you spend a little time flying on and off the water. And boats that fly kick that up a notch or two, in my view.

As we were shooting the video, Richter offered to do some landings close in to the shore so I could get some footage. At one point, he was doing vigorous step taxi turns, engine screaming, geysers of water blasting off the hull, with the airplane's sliding canopies open on both sides. What's left of Van West's hair was blowing in the breeze and the two of them were grinning like six-year-old kids just off a roller coaster. Looking at the video later, I realized that this is an aspect of flying that the LSA community—and especially people like Richter—really have figured out or, more accurately, have never forgotten. The LSA segment was supposed to—and is—carrying the flag for pure, recreational flying.

But to appreciate it, you have to take the time to actually fly any of these airplanes you might actually be interested in. Yes, you can read our reviews or watch the videos, but that's not enough. You actually have to sit in the seat. It's worth the time, effort and whatever money it takes. It's a good enough tonic to coax even a skinflint like me ever close to buying an LSA.

Watch the video and you might agree.

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