“You haven’t taken me anywhere…. in like…forever!”
“All right, Miss Two Weeks, we’ll do something fun.”
After nearly15 years of marriage, I have finally figured out one thing about my wife; if it has been more than two weeks since we did something fun together like visit a restaurant, take an impromptu road trip, or a see a movie, it might as well have been 20 years. Her “fun memory” self destructs at precisely at 14 days.
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Let’s fly to Wendover.”
Wendover is scant little gambling town, on the way to nowhere, that straddles the Utah/Nevada border. From our home, Wendover is about a one-hour flight in my homebuilt airplane. We both like to go to Wendover periodically to play Blackjack; our game of choice because money seems to burn more like a blow torch than a bonfire.
We were smooth sailing at 8,000 feet when suddenly the engine bellowed a blood curdling scream;
The RPM’s shot past red line. I immediately pulled back on the throttle to silence the screaming. Then without a second thought, I performed a textbook-perfect, calm, cool, and collected turn back to the airport with unruffled grace; a striking resemblance to the likes of Indiana Jones (this is how I remember handling it; of course, Miss Two Weeks has her own version of the story).
For the engine to over-rev like that meant I had lost the pitch in the propeller somehow. I immediately had my suspicions. Even though the design of the prop cable had worked fine for eight years, I never really liked the design.
I nursed the airplane safely back to the airport, all the while waffling back and forth on whether to declare an emergency with the FAA. I was still maintaining altitude and I figured if Indiana could get through this unscathed, so could I.
After landing safely, I investigated the cable and confirmed my suspicions. Sure enough, the clevis design connecting the prop cable to the electric servo had broken. The problem was exactly as I had figured.
I spent several weeks trying to improve the design, which was part of the original airplane kit. I had come up with several versions that were better and stronger, but each version still had some drawbacks. I just wasn’t satisfied. The part was still made of plastic and I wasn’t ready to soil another pair of tighty whities just yet.
Then I decided to take another viewpoint.
I thought, “Let’s start from scratch and throw away the old design. Let’s look at the IFR, the Ideal Final Result. What am I really trying to do? How could I accomplish my task and maximize all the good and minimize all the bad? How can I minimize the time and cost? How could I approach the IFR equation so it got closer to infinity?”
Applying these IFR principles, I wondered how I could connect the servo to the prop with the least cost, least risk, and maximum simplicity. Then I tried to think about my surroundings and other hobbies.
This lead to several solutions, each one better than the last.
Then I hit pay dirt.
I knew from my sailing days that sailboats have all kinds of stainless steel cables that have a clevis as part of the cable assembly, and they look a lot like this design. There is no plastic in sail boat parts, either. I knew even the smallest of these cables were capable of withstanding 20,000 lbs of force; they safely hold sails in even the strongest of winds.
I measured the exact size of the servo and clevis connections, measured the length of the cable I needed, and jumped on the Internet. I found a listing for sailboat cables, did a little comparison shopping, and found the perfect cable for $30. I had already spent 20 times that in personal labor trying to fix the original flawed design.
I FedEx’d the part, installed it, and voila! I had a working cable, and more importantly, I felt confident that my next flight wouldn’t require my best Indiana Jones emulation.
By searching for the IFR, you position yourself to find not only the best solution, but also save valuable time and money. Aim high, and you’ll exceed even your loftiest expectations.