Yeah, I’ve run into that mentality before. Here’s the problem with your scenario – under Part 91 (and probably 135 as well) no one is really going to care as long as everything goes well. But if there is an accident or incident and the FAA starts asking questions I’m sure that you will end up spending some “quality” one-on-one time with one of your friendly local feds. Among other things, the discussion would center around FAR 91.13 (Careless and Reckless Operation) and several other potential violations.
I don't mean to sound paranoid, but flying is nothing more that an exercise in risk management. You take acceptable risks and eliminate or at least minimize unacceptable ones. I only earn my money on those very infrequent days that I have to tell my boss "no". When the weather is good and when the equipment is operating correctly it doesn't take much of a pilot to do my job. It's when we have to deal with "difficult" weather, "belligerent" equipment, and/or "challenging" airports that I earn my money. In other words, I get paid to say "no". However, they expect me to have the skill and experience to only say "no" when it is the only safe option. Inexperienced pilots get into trouble when they say "no" and it wasn't necessary or when they don't say "no" when it was.
I love guys who advocate the philosophy that "if we loose an engine, we'll just close the other throttle and land straight ahead - just like if we were in a single." That's fine, and in many cases, it’s a viable option. However, you need to consider the effect that the heavier weight of most multiengine aircraft has on the survivability of an off field landing...
The FAA mandates that all certified single engine aircraft have a stalling speed no greater than 61 knots. (There are some exceptions to this rule, but it requires special equipment and certification.) There is no such requirement for multiengine aircraft. A few multiengine aircraft are light enough to come in with a stall speed less than 61 knots, but many designers will take the opportunity to take advantage of higher wing loadings to increase a light twin’s performance. What you end up with is aircraft with stall speeds significantly higher than the equivalent single engine airplane. Take the Beech A36 Bonanza and the Baron 58. Essentially, they are single and multiengine versions of the same airframe, with more or less comparable performance and capabilities. The Bonanza has a stall speed of 59 knots and the Baron, a stall speed of 73 knots.
So, what’s my point? If you double the stall speed, you multiply the kinetic energy four times. The survivability of a crash is a function of how quickly the kinetic energy is dissipated. What you end up with is a scenario where, in the event of an off field landing in a twin, you have nearly twice the kinetic energy to dissipate. If you’re lucky you’ll have a flat smooth surface, but throw in some rocks, trees, etc. and you quickly see why survivability is a big question. The same principle applies when you start trying to rationalize taking a plane like a KA-200 off the runway or trying to horse it into the air too early.
Personally, operating an airplane in the manner you described is “Faith-Based Aviation” – you’re betting your life (and the lives of your passengers) that an engine won’t quit during takeoff and for a certain period afterward. Personally, I believe that is an unacceptable risk.
I really don’t think that operating an aircraft with in its performance capabilities is limits their utility. (No more than saying that you shouldn’t fly single engine aircraft over weight is limiting, but there will always be those who are willing to ignore the W&B envelope and fill all of the seats, load the baggage, top off the tanks and go. To me, this is exactly the same principle.) We had a similar discussion a while back at FlightSafety. We occasionally have to deal with the same mentality in the corporate world – “The engine isn’t going to quit, why shouldn’t we load our passengers with enough fuel to make it to ‘where ever’ without having to make a fuel stop…” or (this is my personal favorite) “They build in a big enough safety margin that we can ignore the charts…”
So what if a lot of people operate their aircraft in a way that that leaves them “exposed”? Let’s assume that they have done it for hundreds of hours and have never had a problem – does this mean that the operation is safe or are they merely lucky? What do you think? You can fail to plan for your eventual engine failure and place your trust in the laws of probability. But remember, if you choose this path, the danger doesn’t go away, it merely lies in wait and when the inevitable occurs, the laws of physics (and gravity) take precedence.
As I said earlier, I believe that flying is essentially an exercise in “risk management” – you accept reasonable risks and try to eliminate or, at least, minimize the rest. Can you make flying totally risk free? Of course not, no more than you can make any other activity that we do risk free. However, if you go about it properly, flying is as about as benign an activity as you can possibly do. I have a framed photo of an old biplane hung up in the limbs of a tree. (You’ve probably seen the one I’m talking about; they’re in just about every pilot shop in the country.) The photo’s caption reads, “Aviation in itself is not inherently dangerous. But to an even greater degree than the sea, it is terribly unforgiving of any carelessness, incapacity or neglect.” I agree with that statement.
Remember, it’s all too easy to let bad operating practices creep into our day-to-day flying. Like the guy said when St. Peter met him at the Pearly Gates, “It never killed me before!” Oh well, I better get off my soap box.
Lead Sled
