FAR VIOLATIONS CAN HAPPEN
EVEN WHEN YOU DO EVERYTHING RIGHT
Have you been charged with an FAR violation yet? Violations are like gear up landings, there are those that have, and those that will.
My violation happened more than twenty years ago, on a sunny day in Florida...
Ernie was building a Coot amphibian. We were both members of EAA Chapter 133 in Ft. Lauderdale, and he had heard of a Coot under construction near Tampa. One beautiful Saturday we set out in my Mooney to visit the project.
That Mooney was my first airplane. A 1960 vintage M20, the last year of the wood wing Mooneys. I dearly loved that aircraft. Manual gear and flaps, 180 HP Lycoming, lean and mean and didn't eat too much.
We flew across Florida and landed at Vandenberg, just east of Tampa. At that time Vandenberg was a sod strip, populated by lots of "real" airplanes like Aeroncas and Cubs and T-crafts and all those other birds that are always owned by such interesting folk. Lots of old and new hangars, lots of pilot talk, it's hard to imagine a more perfect place to base your flying machine. But on Saturday there was no fuel available, the FBO was closed because of their religious faith.
We knew there would be no fuel, and planned accordingly. But it was a hot day, and a grass strip, and Ernie and I were both well beyond the 170 pound FAA spec for typical people. So we came with comfortable fuel to fly on to another field with some reserve, but little more.
The visit to the Coot went well, we grabbed a quick lunch, and we departed Vandenberg. Our chosen fuel stop was Lakeland, about 20 miles to the east. Conditions were typical for a Florida weekend. Fantastic flying, a light breeze from the northeast, and Unicom about eight layers deep. Lakeland was an uncontrolled field, and there were more pleasure fliers and students aloft than we find today. Back then, 122.8 was used by almost every airport and on a nice weekend the result was pure communications bedlam.
About ten miles from Lakeland, we could make out something on runway 9. We thought it was a motorcycle. Thinking back that seems absurd, even in Florida it is doubtful that human vision could pick out a motorcycle at ten miles. But we were watching something on the runway, then off to the side, then back on again. It was maneuvering too erratically for a plane or a car. We discussed that it might be a dune buggy, decided against that too. We would lose it for a minute, then it would be back again.
Given the light NE breeze, I had planned on using runway 4. Lakeland is one of those numerous Florida ex-WWII training bases with multiple long expanses of concrete, there are plenty of directions to land. But when we got closer we could hear that the active was runway 9. OK, I'm a great believer of doing what the Romans do. Those guys must have a reason for using 9, and the breeze was only a few knots anyway, so no problem. But that "thing" we'd been watching was a problem.
It was a helicopter, with a student and instructor working on hovering. About 90% of copter training is hovering and they clearly weren't close to the 90% point. They were all over the place. Frequently setting down on the runway, then jumping up and scurrying toward the trees, then disappearing for a minute, then back on the active again. There were 5 or 6 fixed wing aircraft in the pattern, and some of the comments about the copter were less than complimentary. A Baron was on it's third downwind, it had been forced to go around twice, once at touchdown, and the pilot was getting vocal. The copter wasn't answering, apparently it wasn't monitoring Unicom.
If I had it to do over again I would just land on runway 4 and be done with it. But you know I didn't do that. I joined the pattern, spacing the Mooney comfortably between the other aircraft.
On base leg, we were watching the helicopter and it appeared he would stay out of our way. Which he did, but the straight-in arrival didn't. We hadn't heard him on the frequency, but suddenly he was there. So I tucked the gear back in and went around. The straight in aircraft landed OK, he probably never knew about the copter.
Some of the other planes in the pattern made it, some went around. This was a first-class Chinese Fire Drill. Today we have a much more somber view of aviation but in those days the pure joy of flying hadn't been suppressed and it was easier to just go with the flow. However, our fuel was into the bottom hour now and I was getting interested in putting the wheels somewhere besides the wheel-wells.
Eventually we made it around the pattern again. As we turned base, sure enough, here came another straight in approach. But this one was a couple of miles out and was obviously slower than a Mooney. Meanwhile, the copter was hiding in the bushes or somewhere, he wasn't on the active. It seemed like a good time to land. So we did.
After we turned off at midfield, we looked back and watched the straight in traffic, a C-150, clear the trees, flare, and sit down nicely on the numbers.
At the FBO, there was only one topic of conversation. That damn helicopter. Some pilots were talking about filing charges, the Baron owner was particularly upset. Others took a lighter view, a go-around is easier and cheaper in some planes than others. We paid for our fuel (100 octane was about 32 cents a gallon), and headed back to Fort Lauderdale.
And that was all there was to it. Until a few months later, when I found a note from my mailman that said I should pick up my registered letter at the Post Office. It seemed that the feds were investigating a matter that had occurred at Lakeland, all they wanted to know was the name of the pilot of the Mooney. So I told them.
Many months passed, then the note in the mailbox to take off work again and go to the Post Office. This time it was a notice of violation of FAR 91.9 (now 91.13), and 91.67 (now 91.113), it proposed a suspension of my pilot license for 90 days. And it gave me 5 days to reply.
Wow! Even with the violation notice in my hand, I couldn't believe it. I assumed that someone had gathered up N numbers of planes that were involved with the copter, and some fumbling federal functionary had thought my N number belonged to the rotary wing.
But it turned out that wasn't the case. I had indeed been charged, and nobody wanted to hear about the helicopter. At this point more than a year had passed. I talked with the FBO but they couldn't help me locate any of the other pilots. I tried to call Ernie and found out why I hadn't seen him at chapter meetings. He had been transferred to Japan. Coot amphib and all!
I visited a prestigious Miami aviation attorney, he suggested settling for the minimum suspension I could get from the FAA. Or, for thousands of dollars he could do the same. (You gotta be kidding. I own an airplane, I don't have thousands of dollars!)
But I wasn't going to give up without a fight. So I learned a lot about administrative law. We know about civil law where one person sues another. And we know about criminal law where people are found guilty and sent to prison. But there is this largely unseen third branch, administrative law. Basically, you throw away any ideas of constitutional rights or protections, none of that exists here. I wasn't able to face my accuser, or even learn his name. I wasn't able to appear before an impartial judge, nor was I presumed innocent. Imagine combining Alice in Wonderland with the legal system. That's administrative law.
It turned out that the straight in aircraft, the one I landed in front of, was carrying an instructor and a student. And the lesson for the day became an exercise in how you file charges against another pilot. I'm not joking, the instructor felt his student needed to know this before he could be licensed to fly an aircraft.
So I lost, and I appealed. A couple of times. At one point thirteen months elapsed before the next note in the mailbox, again I had five days to reply. Eventually I appealed to the NTSB, they ruled in my favor, and the FAA decided not to pursue it any further. Today FAA wouldn't give up that easily but those were simpler times, even for the feds.
In thirty years of flying, I do not have a violation on my record. But it's not because they didn't try.
In case you don't have a copy of the FARs at hand, 91.9 [now 91.13] is the catchall section they use against everyone. It says "No person may operate an aircraft in a careless or reckless manner so as to endanger the life or property of another." Section 91.67(f) [now 91.113(g)] is more specific. I learned a lot about flying by reading this section untold times. "Aircraft, while on final approach to land, have the right of way over other aircraft in flight...." It goes on, but that's the important part. Straight in traffic has right of way. Honestly, I didn't know that before. I'd learned to fly ten years earlier, in the pattern. I think most pilots learned in the pattern. If there is traffic, you don't pass, you allow proper spacing, you never cut in front. And straight in approaches were strongly discouraged because they don't allow the pilot the best opportunity to mix with the other traffic or observe the windsock or spot any obstructions on the runway. Didn't we all learn that the pattern was the right way to fly?
Then the feds popped up with this FAR that said straight in was the legal way to fly. These are the same feds that put on safety meetings where they tell us that we should fly the pattern. The same feds that approve the training courses utilizing patterns. The same feds that could be watching helicopters.
I tried for a long time to get FAA to define "final approach". After all, those words are in the regulation, they must have a specific meaning. Is an aircraft three miles from touchdown on final approach? Certainly in the IFR world he is, but what about a busy VFR situation like that day at Lakeland? What about 5 miles, or 20, or 1000? If you can land straight in, were you on final approach all the way across the country? Needless to say, FAA never had any answers.
Regular readers may have noticed my lack of absolute respect for the FAA or their regulations. Well, now you know where it began. I believe in flying safe, and I believe in the utmost courtesy and respect for the other pilot. I certainly respect weather and the laws of nature, one of these days I'm going to devote a column to why I'm so respectful of airframe ice. But respect for the feds? No, thank you.
