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Matt Paxton |
One
Saturday after I walked back into the house from my shop reeking of varnish,
my wife said I must be high on the fumes. I wasn't; I wear a good filter mask
when I'm varnishing or doping, but I was on a natural high. I'd just finished
putting the second coat of epoxy varnish on the right-hand outer wing panel of
my Pietenpol Air Camper project. The right wing was finished, except for
covering, which will come much later after major assembly is built. I still
have the 29-inch center section to build, but finishing the right outer panel,
in addition to the left outer wing panel I finished in the early fall, means
that the wings are about done.
That's right, I'm building an airplane. Crazy, huh? I would have thought so
myself a couple of years ago. What made me start? How did I choose what to
build? How did I know I had the necessary skills to build an airplane, one
that I would trust to haul my butt through the air? How have I kept my
interest up and continued to work on it, knowing that it is probably at least
a year or more away from being finished?
All good questions, ones that every builder, particularly a first-time
builder like myself, needs to answer before the first metal is bent or wood is
glued. Some need to be asked of oneself repeatedly throughout the project.
How
did I come to the decision to build? Actually, I kinda crept up on that one.
I've gone to Oshkosh (now AirVenture) and other major and not-so-major fly-ins
for years. I've always admired the homebuilts and the people who built them. I
admire their work ethic, their perseverance and, in many cases, their
craftsmanship. I told myself, only half believing it, that I wanted to build
an airplane "some day."
That "some day" became more definite at Sun 'n Fun in 1999. I was
walking the flight line with friends, looking and admiring, and talking to a
very knowledgeable friend who is both a talented airplane restorer and an
attorney. We got on the subject of building and he said he was starting to
build a Pietenpol. He talked about the history of the design, and about the
wood construction. He mentioned that, although it is a plans-built design —
there are no complete kits sold — there are a number of suppliers of
prefabricated components ranging from wing ribs and metal assemblies to
complete fuselages. He said that the average home handyman who had some
experience working on airplanes could build one with relative ease. All you
really need, he said, was a suitable place to build it, a set of plans common,
woodworking and household tools, and a couple of years. The kicker was when he
said a Piet could be built for a little as $5,000. Wow!
I wasn't so sure about the relative ease part, but I did fit the
description of a confirmed tinkerer and handyman, at least in my own mind. I
did much of the renovation work on our 1870s house over the course of two
years. I've assisted our mechanic on many repairs and alterations to our
Bellanca, including a complete overhaul of the engine last year. I didn't have
$5,000 rattling around in my pocket, but over a couple of years, that was
doable. What I lacked was a place to build, until I remembered an old garage
on the back of my property where I stored old lumber and the yard equipment.
A Place To Work
When
I got back from Florida, I took a good look at the garage. It measured roughly
19 feet by 20 feet, of wood frame construction with a metal roof. It looked to
be about 50 years old. It had no foundation; the bottom timbers were laid on
the ground and the framing nailed to them, and the old bottom timbers were
long rotted out, especially on one side of the building. Above the rotted
area, though, the building was in pretty good shape. The roof was sound. There
were two overlapping sliding garage doors, both of which could only be
partially opened because the building had settled down several inches. The
garage was full of old lumber, doors, assorted junk and the lawn mower,
shovels and rakes.
I formulated a plan to clean it out, jack it up, build a foundation under
it, replace the rotten wood, pour a concrete floor and bring electricity out
to it from the house. Along the way, I decided to insulate it and to remove
one of the sliding doors. I framed up the opening to include some old windows
and a regular entry door I found in the building. I kept the other sliding
door for easy access. I told my wife I had come to the conclusion the building
needed to be rescued or demolished, and I'd decided it was valuable for
storage — "Oh, and I might put a little workshop area in one
corner." Yeah, right.
I started in June, and by early November, it was finished. I lost 10 pounds
digging out the dirt floor for the slab by hand. After all the sweat, though,
the finished product exceeded my expectations. I had a smooth concrete floor,
adequate electrical power with 10 outlets well-spaced throughout the building,
good lighting from four overhead florescent fixtures, and insulation
sufficient to allow it to be heated with a small electric or propane heater. A
hand-painted sign on the door christening the shop the "Skunk Wurx"
completed the job. By then, I'd come clean and 'fessed up to my wife that my
ulterior motive was to build an airplane in the shop. She just shook her head.
Why A Pietenpol?
And What Engine To Hang On The Front?
Based
on my Sun 'n Fun conversations I had already decided to build a Pietenpol Air
Camper, even before I started the shop renovation project. Why did I choose
the Air Camper? I wanted a simple, fly-for-fun airplane. The Piet, with its
open cockpit, slow speed and vintage look fit the bill. I wanted a project
appropriate for a first-time builder, preferably with the major structures
built of spruce because of my familiarity with woodworking — again the
Pietenpol met those criteria. And, I needed something that would fit in the
shop. The Pietenpol's plank-like wing can be built in three sections with the
longest being a shade over 13 feet. The fuselage will also fit, but after
engine installation, it will have to be angled in. Finally, cost was a factor.
Mine won't come in at $5,000, but I have a shot at keeping it under $8,000.
Early on, I decided not to power my Pietenpol with the classic Ford Model A
engine. I live in the mountains of western Virginia, with few suitable fields
for forced landings. I'm a longtime glider pilot and have scouted many of the
landable fields in the area. Many of them are tight for a glider, and I didn't
want to increase my chances of ending up in one with the Pietenpol. The
conversion of the Ford engine includes a single magneto ignition and
modifications to the oil system to provide lubrication allowing the engine to
run at sustained RPMs never envisioned by Henry. This, coupled with the fact
that on a good day, a Ford "A" engine will yield about 50
horsepower, made me look elsewhere.
In the 1960s, Bernie Pietenpol build an Air Camper powered by a
six-cylinder Chevy Corvair engine. I'm told the Corvair-powered Piets fly very
well, with a lot better performance than the Fords. But, I found a Continental
A-65 engine at a nearby airstrip that had been in storage for a number of
years. It needs to be opened up and thoroughly checked out, but was running
fine when it was removed from the dinged Aeronca it came out of. A deposit is
holding it until I need it.
Resources
Now
it was time to buy a set of plans. I got in touch with Don Pietenpol, the son
of Bernard Pietenpol, who designed the Air Camper back in the 1920s. Don still
sells the plans originally drawn by his father and a young draftsman assistant
back in the mid-1930s. The first Air Camper flew in 1929, and is generally
credited with being the airplane that started the homebuilding movement. Plans
were published in the 1932 Flying and Gliding magazine, and people have
been building the little square-cornered monoplane ever since.
About the time I was buying the plans from Don, I began to find a number of
resources for Pietenpol builders. One group, the Buckeye Pietenpol
Association, had a Web site and regular newsletters, but they appeared to go
out of existence about the time I started building. I did find an excellent
web site that contains a wealth of information and links to suppliers.
And, I found and quickly signed up for a Pietenpol builders' list-serve. Over
the past year, the list-serve has put me in touch with a lot of builders
asking the same questions I have, and providing answers to many of them.
From the aircamper Web site, I got a recommendation on a spruce supplier in
Canada. The owner was supposed to be very knowledgeable about Pietenpol
construction, and would sell the wood for the entire plane, or for the wings
only or fuselage and tail feathers only for those on a budget. The quality of
his wood was reported to be outstanding, and all the spruce came precut to the
proper dimensions.
Doing It
I
decided to build the wings first, still unsure about some of the details of
the fuselage, particularly whether to build the long or short fuselage
version. This would allow me to postpone that decision and research the
ramifications of the two options. A cashier's check went to Western Aircraft
Supply, and a week later, I got a phone call saying the spruce was on its way
to Richmond, Va., via Northwest airfreight. Amazingly, all the wood for the
wings fit neatly into a ten-inch-by-14-feet heavy cardboard tube. On November
29, 1999, I drove to Richmond, paid the airfreight bill and cleared the
shipment through customs. When I unpacked the shipment later that night, I
could tell that the reports were right — the spruce was of top quality and
expertly cut.
Over the following year as I progressed on the wings, the quantities of
spruce in the various dimensions almost always came out exactly as needed.
Other than a few additional pieces of quarter by half-inch capstrip, the only
other wood required was aircraft grade plywood in varying thicknesses. On
December 1, 1999, with a cold rain falling outside and a space heater warming
the shop, I cut my first spruce.
Next — building the wings ...
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