28 MAY 2020 ÇPlane&Pilot
three hours, and we were ready to proceed to our first
stop in Tampa. Actually, that’s not completely true. I
was ready, but my wife had decided she wasn’t getting
back in that airplane.
It took my best sales job to convince her that it was
safe. I told her I had flown thousands of hours since I was
16, and my dad even more in his 60 years of flying, and
nothing like this had ever happened. It was a million-in-
one occurrence and would never happen again.
Reluctantly, she finally agreed and climbed aboard,
and although we arrived at Tampa Bay Executive Airport
after dark, it was a pleasant and uneventful flight.
After a couple of days at my brother’s house on
the water in New Port Richey, we took off, heading to
Key West.
It was a beautiful day, so we flew VFR, enjoying the
view along the coast. I avoided Victor Airway 225, which
routes you directly from Fort Myers to Key West. It takes
you several miles off the coast. We weren’t in a hurry,
and we could jump across a much smaller stretch of
water by crossing the Florida Bay to Islamorada. It’s also
a much prettier flight, especially flying along the keys
from Islamorada to Key West.
After several days in Key West, we
headed home. Again, we planned to stop
and visit my brother and his wife for a
couple of days.
We reversed course and flew back
to Tampa Bay Executive Airport and
enjoyed ourselves for a few days in New
Port Richey, including dressing up for a
seniors’ Halloween costume party.
We chose another beautiful day for our return flight
to Rome, Georgia.
Departing Tampa Bay Executive, we leveled off at 6,500
feet on a course that would take us directly to Columbus,
Georgia. The route paralleled the coast a couple miles
off shore for several miles until coming back over land
in the vicinity of Cedar Key.
We were just past Cedar Key when it happened again.
Not believing my nose, I asked my wife, “Do you
smell smoke?”
Sure enough, we were losing oil pressure just like
the week before. I knew immediately we had blown the
other external oil line.
Turning back toward Cedar Key airport, I estimated
we were about 10 miles away, so I began a search on the
map to determine if there might be a closer airport.
It appeared the area was marshy and void of decent
landing options, so I focused on Cedar Key and looked
up their Unicom frequency.
Once on Cedar Key’s Unicom frequency, I heard
another aircraft announcing it was inbound to Cedar
Key. I keyed the microphone and announced to the Piper
Cherokee that I was Bonanza N19FL, 10 miles northeast,
inbound to Cedar Key with an engine-out.
He responded immediately, saying he would stay
clear of the airport. I remember him asking me if we
would be able to make it, and I replied, “I hope so.” To
this day, I don’t know why I responded that way as I knew
we would make it. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic. I
didn’t know I was so inclined toward drama, and I’m
not proud of it. Also, my dramatic retort scared the hell
out of my wife, who once again was as quiet as a mouse
as she listened to the exchange with the Cherokee and
the screaming alarm.
Even though I had regrets from the previous week
for not reassuring my wife that everything was fine, I
did it again. I never said a word to her after asking her
if she smelled smoke.
As we approached Cedar Key airport from the north-
east, I determined we didn’t have enough altitude to
enter downwind and land on runway five, even though
that was the runway favored by the winds.
But I was going to be too high for a straight-in
approach for runway 23 unless I killed excess altitude
by slipping. As most pilots know, slipping is a great tech-
nique to burn off altitude without gaining speed, so once
I was set up on final approach for runway
23, I lowered the landing gear, dropped
my flaps and waited a few seconds to
determine how my descent looked. I saw
that I was still too high, so I applied full left
aileron and full right rudder for about 10
seconds before neutralizing the controls
and reassessing my glide path. I was still
too high, so once again I applied full left
aileron and full right rudder, this time
for only about five seconds to ensure I wasn’t losing too
much altitude. I remember repeating the slip four or five
times before I was satisfied our glide path would get us
to the first third of the runway.
The closer we got to the airport, the easier it was to
determine the correct glide path. We ended up landing
just past the numbers, with enough momentum to clear
the runway on the far end.
After I pulled the airplane to a tiedown using a tow
bar, a good Samaritan flew us in his turbine-powered
Cessna Caravan to Ocala, where we rented a car and
drove home.
A week later, my dad rescued the Bonanza by plug-
ging the oil ports, bypassing the external oil filter, and
flying it to St. Augustine.
My wife never flew in the airplane again. I blame
myself for terrorizing her twice. I’m puzzled why I didn’t
have the presence of mind to reassure her. Some have
suggested I must have been so focused on getting us
down safely, but the truth is I never was concerned. The
idea of a dead-stick landing is far scarier than actually
experiencing one.
A few months later, I reluctantly sold the airplane,
which, as I mentioned before, was a real beauty. PP❯ ❯ “We were just
past Cedar Key when
it happened again. Not
believing my nose, I
asked my wife, 'Do you
smell smoke?'”