It is a big deal, and I feel like I've failed to communicate my attitude towards it properly.
First, when adversity strikes, I've always looked at it, learned what I could from it, and then moved forward.
Endless second guessing and "what ifs" are, in my experience, useless endeavors. Could I have been killed or seriously injured? Absolutely. Should I let that fact alter my goals and aspirations? For me, that's a no. I'm just not built that way.
Second, I always look at what's still good when faced with adversity rather than focus on what's bad - not just in this matter, but in all matters.
It's easy to look at my poor little Nieuport and give a list of all the things that were broken - longerons, gear, cowl, etc. - and throw up one's hands.
It's just as easy to take a second look and see what's still good - a lot of tubing, the elevator push-pull rod, nuts and bolts, two wings, tail feathers, instruments, and on and on - and work from there.
In the strip down process, if something looks remotely questionable, into the scrap pile it goes. If not, why not re-use it?
The aircraft design itself is sound, and there are hundreds of examples (including the Graham Lee versions) that have flown and are still flying. Indeed, where one might see a mangled mess on the side of the road, I see and aircraft that - thanks to it's tube and gusset design - crumpled nicely to protect me from serious harm. The fact that there has been only one fatality in type (flight number one, with a bunch of factors involved) went into my decision to build it in the first place.
Would it be safer to build a Carbon Cub or an RV-7? Dunno. Maybe. But neither fit what I want an aircraft for.
The facts of the matter are that I somehow went through seven gallons of fuel in thirty-five minutes, which screams fuel leak (at least to me and the FAA man), leaving me 3,000 feet up with a stilled propeller. I did that which was required to ensure my safety and those on the ground the best I could - and since I'm here typing, it serves to validate my decisions on landing point. Say what one will about my abilities as a pilot - I never shy from the fact that at 135 hours behind a stick I'm still learning - but on that day I was on my game.
Was I lucky? Yes and no. I sure put a lot of my chips into the "lucky" column to where the outcome of the forced landing was going to be in my favor.
I flew her all the way down and landed on top of that tree. The plane had almost no forward momentum when she came down from it, and when she did, she was level to the ground (though pinwheeling a bit).
I put her down next to a road that had light traffic on it. Should I have needed serious assistance, help was a cell phone and an ambulance away; there would be no searching for me.
I let the design of the aircraft work for me. Having two big ol' collapsible wings making a cage around me as well as fuselage that would likewise collapse goes a long way to reducing G forces on a sudden stop. Where one might look at a Z shaped landing gear strut and cluck, it warmed my heart to see it.
Light, collapsible design + low momentum = "luck."
Indeed, rather than looking at the picture and saying "wow, maybe a different design is in order," my thoughts are "wow, there is no way I want to wreck in anything else."
Know what would have been unlucky? Taking on the power lines or the road with traffic on it. Shooting for a remote field with a fence across it. Trying to extend or shorten the glide for a marginally better landing spot. Trying to stretch to Pell City and winding up in the lake.
As to an aircraft with "a history of crashes," well, I'm not looking for resale value. When I'm done with her, she'll either be donated to hang from someplace's ceiling or recycled into beer cans.
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And will I improve the fuel system to prevent what we suspect happened (that in high turbulence I most likely kicked the barbed fuel fitting at the bottom of the tank, which is placed to where that can happen)? Most definitely. I was wearing my steel toed work boots that day, so I could do that without feeling it. Then again, judging from the dents at the bottom of the fuel tank, those boots probably saved me from broken toes.
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Originally Posted by Frank Giger
