After four days in Corpus Christi, Texas, it was time for Paul and I to return home. As we approached the Fairchild PT-19, I pointed out the drops of oil on the tarmac underneath the engine cowling, “Looks like the airplane left its calling card!”
The Fairchild PT-19 is powered by a 200-horsepower Ranger engine. It is a uniquely designed engine, with six inline cylinders, inverted. Meaning, the crankshaft is at the top of the engine, the cylinders hang upside down, and the camshaft and valves are at the very bottom of the engine. The inline design makes for an impressively smooth-running, bulletproof engine, whereas the inverted design guarantees that it will burn and leak more than its fair share of oil.
I pulled the propeller through several rotations by hand, feeling the compression in each cylinder. Because of the inverted design of the Ranger engine, it is possible for oil to pool at the bottom of a cylinder, depending on where the engine stops when it is shut down. The impulse coupling on the left magneto clicked with each pull. A small glob of oil dripped from the exhaust stack, adding to the stain on the tarmac.
By not pulling the propeller through by hand, you run the risk of hydro-locking a cylinder, causing catastrophic damage to the engine. Thus, it is common practice on World-War II-era aircraft to hand-prop the engine before startup.
Because of the inverted design of the Ranger’s crankshaft and cylinders and the loose tolerances in the bearings, the piston rings can not effectively keep up with the oil system, and as a result, the engine burns oil. The 1930’s-era solution was to install a larger oil reserve on the airplane. So, a standard oil change on the PT-19 requires five gallons of oil - four gallons in the reservoir, and one gallon in the engine itself. Most normal aircraft engines require a teardown and overhaul at a set number of hours, but Ranger specifies, “When oil consumption exceeds one gallon of oil per hour”, a teardown and overhaul is required.
A common joke with Ranger-powered aircraft, “When you land, be sure to fill up with oil and check the gasoline.”
Paul and I departed Corpus Christi Naval Air Station bright and early, followed the Gulf coast to Galveston, and turned north toward Missouri. It is amazing how blue skies and a tailwind can improve one’s mood. The Gulf of Mexico sparkled warm and inviting, and the earth glowed with the fresh green of a new season.
We picked up a 20 mile-per-hour tailwind all the way from Galveston to Cape Girardeau, whereas we fought a 40 mile-per-hour headwind on our flight down. The difference in performance was spectacular: The engine ran smoother, we burned far less oil, and only had to stop once for fuel.
Our route home took us along the same path as our flight to Texas. In Louisiana, we flew directly over Hart. I watched Hart slip underneath the PT-19, and remembered in vivid detail the close call we experienced. I picked out a small municipal airport in Reston, Louisiana, and circled around for a landing. Time to grab fuel, add oil, and since we were making excellent time — treat ourselves to a sit-down lunch.
Our experience at Reston underscores the beauty of general aviation. Aside from filling up with fuel, a municipal airport is a gateway into the surrounding community. Paul and I chatted with the airport crew, who were interested in seeing a unique vintage aircraft. They offered helpful suggestions on where to grab lunch, and issued us complimentary use of a courtesy car. These welcoming community-oriented exchanges are commonplace at the airports that dot the American countryside. The general aviation world is a tight-nit community, and people genuinely watch out and help one another.
The ground crew laughed when I pointed out the oil drips beneath the PT-19, “Hope you don’t mind, the Fairchild marks its territory wherever it goes.” And, “It’s not that the engine leaks oil, it’s when it stops leaking oil that you need to worry.”
Paul and I approached Cape Girardeau very comfortably around 5:00 in the afternoon. The airspace was busy, and we were sequenced in for a landing between several inbound aircraft. When it was my turn to land, on final approach, I radioed the tower, “Hey Cape Tower, Fairchild PT-19 requesting a flyby.”
My flyby was granted, and I buzzed the airport in celebration of a successful and safe journey. “Very nice, Fairchild. Welcome home.” Paul and I landed, taxied, and were met at the hangar with friends offering celebratory cold beers. We pushed the PT-19 into its designated hangar space. As the wheels touched the chocks, the engine cowling stopped directly above a large oil stain. I tipped my head back, savored the coldness of the beer, pointed to the oil stain and remarked, “Well gentlemen — she’s home.”
— Dan Wegmueller is the owner of Wegmueller Farms and his column appears regularly in the Times. His website is https://www.
farmforthought.or
