by
Darryl Phillips
OK, I blew it. No apologies, no excuses, I simply blew it.
At Oshkosh each year one of the high points for me is the "Meet the Administrator" session, where we mere mortals get to fire questions at the head of the FAA. Depending on who is administrator-of-the-moment, we are either rewarded with the best honest answer a guy can expect, or else treated to two hours of the slimiest obfuscation Washington has to offer.
Now I should admit right up front, I like David Hinson. This guy is one of us. Unlike so many other administrators, Hinson has a General Aviation background, and when we voice complaints he knows where we're coming from. He may not be able to do anything about our problems (after all, he is only the boss) but at least he comprehends the questions.
Probably half the audience was ready with the Bob Hoover question, but not me. I had my little blue notebook with my subjects jotted down.
The Bob Hoover subject never had a chance. Hinson knew the audience was loaded for bear, and he began his opening remarks with a statement, no doubt crafted by his legal department and delivered with some visible anguish on Hinson's part. It was classic Washington. The matter is before the courts, so FAA cannot make any comment whatever. None. Zero. Zilch.
It didn't make the audience happy, but the only thing that would have made us happy was an announcement that Bob Hoover could have his medical back, and that wasn't going to occur. At least the two hour session was now free for other questions.
My strategy was to go with the flow. Only one question is allowed, and I wanted to play as strongly as possible on what had come before. Since I had no idea what subjects might arise, I was ready with several questions. Subjects important to personal aviation.
The opening remarks continued. Too long, I was thinking. The natives were getting restless. He expounded at length on the new Experimental Aircraft Association program to improve the safety and success of test flights of homebuilts. Twenty percent of homebuilts crash on their first flight, he quoted from the colorful EAA brochure he was holding. Several times he came back to that statistic, twenty percent on the first flight! I doubted the figure, but it was stated with such authority that it began to sound possible. Builders tend to put all available time and money in the project and flying skills get rusty. The first flight finally arrives, the builder climbs into his sleek and slippery bird and proceeds to kill himself. Twenty percent of all crashes happen on the first flight.
Woah! What did he say? I was listening intently, trying to take as few notes as possible because I lose track of what is being said while I'm writing what already has been. Then he said it again, twenty percent of homebuilts crash on their first flight.
Hey guy, I'm thinking, there is a big difference between twenty percent of the planes, and twenty percent of the crashes. Lots of those beautiful planes never crash at all. Most of them, in fact, fly for years with nary a scratch. Every homebuilt, just as every other plane, has a first flight, and I do not believe one out of every five crashes. I would believe that one in five of the test phase crashes happen on the first flight. I wanted to shout, to interrupt his monologue, to get some truth injected here. But shouting is against the rules of polite behavior, and if everyone who didn't like something began shouting, we might as well go home. So I reluctantly held my peace.
But my internal pressure was rising. I was well beyond a simmer, and approaching slow boil. Somewhere in this audience there might be a reporter that would repeat that statistic. After all, the administrator himself said it, and it would be a tragedy for this many planes to crash. Perhaps this loss of life is preventable. Maybe we need new rules, new laws, more restrictions, more federal employees..... My mind was racing, thinking what the press could do with this story. They don't like aviation anyway, this would be a good reason to outlaw homebuilt airplanes at the local field. Nobody wants those dangerous machines falling on THEIR house.
Yes, definitely slow boil. And rising.
Mr. Hinson is talking now about the fine work of Air Traffic Control. 54 million IFR movements per day. I notice he doesn't say "flights", just "movements". I don't know what you do IFR except fly, but I'll accept his terminology. But 54 million a day? Bad statistics again. I'm beyond slow boil.
Round numbers, there are 200,000 planes in the United States. I'm scribbling furiously in the little notebook. Divide the total aircraft into the number of IFR movements, and each plane would have to make 270 movements a day, every day. That is every Cub and T-craft wintered in barns in the northland, every Tri-Pacer and C-150 that has never been IFR certified, every last plane in the country. 270 a day? If a pilot was alone at an uncontrolled field in good VFR he might make 10 touch-and-goes per hour, but I've never done it. If he didn't refuel or stop for anything that would only be 240 in a 24 hour day. Not 270. And certainly not with the delays and inefficiencies imposed by the IFR system.
Full rolling boil. And pressure rising. I am trying to recall the old saw about statistics don't lie but liars use statistics. I keep getting it turned around somehow.
There is more monologue, but I'm really not hearing it. I can't wait for my chance at the microphone.
The questions finally begin. Rules are simple. Only one question. We cannot talk without a microphone. Two FAA employees have roving microphones, which they insist on holding. Most of the questions are thoughtful, as are most of the answers. Subjects range all over the place. One aircraft owner complains that FAA inspectors broke into his Cessna and bent the door up. An instructor in a rural area asks for help with the Department of Agriculture. He has a number of farmer pilots who are being paid not to grow crops, they are required to keep the field mowed but if they land a plane on it they lose their federal subsidy.
A pilot asks about "through the fence" operations at the local airport. He's been told by the city and by the state DOT that FAA prohibits aircraft from taxiing off the airport property. Hinson says no, FAA doesn't care. And so the questions go.
My shoulders are aching from keeping my hand raised for an hour. Finally it's my turn. I begin by thanking Mr. Hinson for killing the Microwave Landing System. That gets a round of applause. Then I ask about the statistics. Twenty percent of airplanes, or twenty percent of crashes? He defers to Linda Daschle, Deputy Administrator, and she says that, actually, about 13 percent of the crashes happen on the first flight and another six percent on the second. They just lumped them together, and then rounded 19 up to 20. The matter of the majority of planes that never crash at all somehow gets lost in the discussion, and I don't think Mr. Hinson understands my basic objection.
So I try again, on the 54 million IFR ops per day. No, Hinson replies, he had said "per year". Well, he knows what he said, and I know what I heard. If anyone has a tape recording I'd be interested in which version it contains. I try to make the point that misquoted statistics take on a life of their own, and aviation has enough real problems without carelessly creating more. But my microphone time is over.
All my carefully prepared questions are still in the notebook. I've blown the chance to tell the FAA administrator what Mode S and TCAS are doing to traffic spacing, flight delays, and safety. I've blown the chance to discuss how badly aviation needs to keep Stapleton airport. Dallas kept Love Field when they opened DFW, Denver shouldn't be permitted to give a national treasure to the land merchants. Dallas developers weren't allowed to close the airport and turn it into a shopping mall, but they've made a hundred times more profit from the upscale growth in the surrounding community. I've blown the opportunity to criticize the FAA policy of awarding so many lucrative contracts to Lincoln Labs, considering their dismal record in ATCRBS and Mode S. The list goes on.
Looking back, I really blew it. For this year. But the next Oshkosh is only 10 months away.