The following happened about a month ago, and after some internal debate, I decided the board might find it interesting. Sorry about the length, but I wanted to tell the whole story, for pilots and non-pilots alike.
After Christmas, due to differing schedules and impatience to get started, my teenaged kids decided take our small plane to Grandma’s and let the oldsters follow later in the car. After a few days of visiting, my son needed to return to his job, so he flew home alone leaving everyone else to ride home with me.
On his way, he landed in various towns to see old friends, and didn’t arrive at our home airfield until after dark. This was when he realized his car keys were still at Grandma’s.:rolleyes: His GF had spare keys, but was unfamiliar with the DFW area, so he agreed to meet her at still another airfield, and took off again for a short night flight.
At this point his evening got a lot more interesting.
Midway across the city (S of DFW airport) the windshield began growing blurry and hazy, beneath a thin film of something. As he puzzled over this, he said he began to notice a growing “burning oil smell” (his words). Sure enough, when he glanced down, the gauges were showing a drop in oil pressure. Informing ATC of his plight, he turned around and headed for the nearest airport. By the time he’d reversed course, the windshield was nearly covered, and the hot oil smell was getting stronger. Another check of the gauges showed even more decline in oil pressure, and he decided the engine might not last much longer. He called ATC, declared an emergency, and then began a climb to gain altitude while the engine was still developing power. He later told me he was imagining a scenario where oil was spraying lord-knows-where in his engine compartment; perhaps onto a red hot exhaust manifold. After reaching what he reckoned to be a sufficient altitude and fearing a fire, he shut down the engine. At this point his windshield (and the side windows) had become almost completely opaque.
Now at this point, the poor kid is all by himself; at night; almost blind, and gliding to an airport that he hopes is somewhere ahead of him in the darkness. As he recounted the story to me, he said all he could think was that he was glad he was the only one on board.
Using his nav instruments, and with help from ATC, he reached a point where he figured he was at the right altitude and position for an approach to the runway, restarted the engine, and lowered the landing gear. Remembering his training, he unlatched the side door in case there was a hard landing. This promptly caused all his charts to blow out of the plane, but was more of an embarrassment, than a real problem.
Since the door is on the right side of the plane, he couldn’t see out of the crack where it was open. The only opening he had was the pilot’s “storm window”, a small hatch about elbow level, used for talking to ground crewman. Using opposite aileron and rudder, he put the plane into a sideslip and slouched way down in his seat. Since he was now flying sorta sideways, this gave him a small view of what was in front of him, but the sideslip caused all 3 landing lights to aim away from his flight path. Using the left-side runway lights, he brought the plane as near to the centerline as he could guess, lined it back up with the rudder and let it touch down on the runway. Once he was sure he was on concrete he slammed on the brakes (he joked later that since he’d saved the plane, he figured I could spring for some new tires).
After getting it stopped, the tower controllers guided him by voice off the runway and onto a taxiway. Clearing the runway, he shut down the engine and they sent a tug to tow him to the ramp. He said he was calm throughout the ordeal, but started shaking once the engine was off and he knew everything was OK. I assured him this was probably a reaction to adrenaline (at least I think what happens after a fight or flight response). Seeing the plane in the lights at the terminal, it was covered in oil, all over the windshield, cowling, belly, nosegear and even some of the inboard section of the wings. Obviously, something important let go in the engine compartment.
The aftermath:
First, hats off to pullinSon, for a masterful job of flying, and for his quick thinking in getting on the ground post-haste. Thankfully, no one was injured although I think we had a few sleepless nights, thinking about what might-have-been.
The mechanics had to spend quite a bit of time washing down the plane before they could search for the source of the leak. They drained the remaining oil, and discovered there was still enough left in the sump that the engine was unhurt, and according to the A/P, it probably would have run for another 20-30 minutes, before seizing up. They quickly found the leak in the prop governor, which is on the rear of this particular engine model. It apparently had a broken seal, which will pump out a nice spray of oil when under pressure. Due to the rearward location of the leak, no oil ever got near the exhaust, so there was little to no danger of fire (although my son couldn’t know this at the time).
Anyway, everything is now repaired (and carefully inspected). And although pullinSon showed a marked fondness for ground transportation for a few weeks, he’s back in the air again. And I’m getting those calls at work again (“Dad, are you using the plane Friday?”) All’s well that ends well.
For non-pilots, I found a google pic of a storm window. This one’s on the right side of the plane (ours is on the left), but it gives you an idea of the size.
A/P – Airframe and Powerplant mechanic
ATC – Air Traffic Control
Prop Governor – device that uses oil pressure to adjust the angle of the propellor blades.
