The Junk Drawer, Revisited

Not so junky now.

Junk Drawer ReorganizedIf you saw my office, you’d never believe that I truly like to be organized. I hate clutter, I hate piles of junk lying around, I hate not being able to find things.

So it was with great pleasure that I cleaned out my junk drawer the other day and reorganized it with some dividers. The photo here shows the results.

I don’t have time to blog about this in detail right now. And let’s face it — who really wants to read about it? The picture shows all. We made the dividers with a divider kit I bought at The Container Store in Scottsdale the other day.

Now if only I could reorganize my office!

Helicopters 101: Weight

Gross Weight ≠ Center of Gravity.

Articles in the Helicopters 101 series:
Flight Planning
CG
Weight
Hover Charts
Ground School

I was recently pointed to a blog post by Tim McAdams, AOPA’s helicopter blogger. [A side note here: It’s nice to see that AOPA has finally realized that the first “A” in its name, which stands for aircraft (not airplane), does indeed include helicopters. I’ve been waiting more than 10 years for this. But I digress.] The post, titled simply “Gross weight,” is a brief discussion of helicopter gross weight and an accident caused by a pilot attempting to fly over max gross weight.

Commenters Miss the Point

Many of the comments following this post mentioned Center of Gravity (CG) or Weight and Balance (W&B). At least two commenters offered links to their Excel worksheets to perform weight and balance calculations for the aircraft they fly. (I also have my own Excel solution for my R44.)

It seemed to me, however, that they were missing the point. The article wasn’t about CG or W&B. It was about weight. You can do the calculations in your head for that:

+ Helicopter Empty Weight (including oil and unusable fuel)
+ Weight of Fuel On Board
+ Weight of pilot and Passengers
—————————————————
= Gross Weight

Take my helicopter, for example. Using the above formula for a flight with half tanks of fuel, me, and two people weighing 150 and 200 pounds on board, the formula would be something like this:

+ 1500
+ 150 (that’s 6 lbs x 25 gallons)
+ 500
————————–
= 2150

Because the max gross weight of my aircraft is 2500 pounds and this total is less, I’d be flying within max gross weight limitations. This does not mean I’m within CG — that’s a different calculation.

This is not higher math. A pilot should be able to make this calculation in a matter of seconds without a piece of paper — and certainly without a computer.

In my opinion, this should be the first calculation a pilot makes when planning a flight. If you’re over max gross weight, don’t even bother doing a W&B calculation. You’ll need to offload some of that weight — fuel, a passenger, cargo — before you can even consider whether it’s loaded within CG limitations.

Max Gross Weight

Although the blog post was titled simply “Gross Weight,” what McAdams was really talking about was max gross weight — the maximum allowable aircraft total weight on takeoff. The two stories he related in his post dealt with aircraft that were likely over max gross weight on takeoff. One flight was uneventful; the other ended in a crash.

There are two aspects to a helicopter’s max gross weight:

  • IGE Hover

    IGE Hover Chart for a Robinson R44 Raven II. According to this, a helicopter may be able to hover in ground effect at max gross weight at 6,000 feet when it’s 95°F out.

    There’s the max gross weight for the aircraft, which is something you should never — in a perfect world, anyway — exceed. The manufacturer has created this limitation for a variety reasons and the ability to lift off or hover may not be one of them. For example, it could be structural. Would you want to fly a helicopter over max gross weight if you knew that every time you did, you could be putting additional stress on the airframe/blades/etc. that could lead to a failure in a future flight? I wouldn’t.

  • There’s a practical max gross weight as it applies to high density altitude. Look at the performance charts. Can you maintain an IGE hover at max gross weight when the LZ is at 6,000 feet and it’s 95°F out? I do a lot of high density altitude flying in Arizona and I’ve experienced a wide range of weight and density altitude situations. I can assure you, max gross weight might be a limiting factor at sea level, but it’s an optimistic number at high DA.

I flew at the Grand Canyon one season and got to know the operation very well. Some helicopters simply weren’t as powerful as others — even within the same make and model. For example, on a hot day, if I were flying a certain ship, I wouldn’t take a load that put me within 200 lbs of max gross weight. To the company’s credit, they knew which ships were the “dogs” and tended to load them lighter. I distinctly remember being asked over the radio while waiting on the pad if I could take 4000 pounds in the ship I was flying that day — one of the dogs. It was over 90°F and the ship had been flying sluggishly since noon. When I said no, they shuffled the passengers around to lighten my load.

It’s Up to the Pilot

McAdams’ first story explains how one pilot refused to take a heavy load while another stepped right up and took over. He quotes a non-pilot bystander as saying “Now there goes a real pilot.”

This is the attitude that’ll shorten a pilot’s career — and possibly his life. The attitude that says, “I’m a better pilot because I can handle the heavy load that this wimpy pilot won’t try.” The attitude that ignores aircraft limitations and flying conditions just to prove you can do something that a wiser pilot won’t attempt.

You know about old pilots and bold pilots, right?

[Another side note: When I flew at the Canyon, late in the season, the last fight of the day for one of the routes had the pilot facing right into the low-lying sun at a critical point in the flight: just as we were attempting to climb up the side of a canyon wall in a relatively confined area to fly over the North Rim. My eyes are extremely light sensitive — which is why I just about always wear sunglasses outside — and I simply could not see in front of me when I flew this part of the route at this time of day. So I asked the lead pilot to not put me on that route for the last flight of the day. Although he was obviously pissed off, he complied –probably because there were at least eight other pilots on duty who simply didn’t care and would do the flight without question. My point: don’t fly beyond your comfort level.]

Real Weights

McAdams’ second story, about the crashed heavy helicopter, relates how the pilot estimated weights: 150 lbs per passenger. Ah, if only our passengers were that light!

The FAA’s estimate is closer to 190 per person average.

In a perfect world, we’d be able to weigh every single passenger, fully dressed and holding their carry-on things, moments before the flight. Those weights would be used in our calculation. This is exactly what they did where I worked at the Grand Canyon, so they never loaded a ship over max gross weight and always had perfectly accurate numbers for CG calculations.

Nowadays, most of my flights are booked by phone and I have to trust passengers to give me accurate weights when they book. But I don’t. I add 10 pounds to each person. If the caller is estimating the weight of another passenger, I add 20 pounds. It’s better to overestimate the weight than underestimate it.

Center of Gravity

One more thing: being out of CG and being over max gross weight are two separate things. While you can be in both conditions, you can also be in either condition. This means that you can be within max gross weight limitations but still be out of CG.

But I’ll save a discussion of that for another post.

The Storm

Frightening at night.

Arizona is known primarily for one thing: its brutally hot summers. To be fair, it’s only 110°F + for a few months and only in the lower elevations of the state. The rest of the state has much milder weather — at least in the summer. In the winter, places like Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon can get the same kinds of winter storms that caused me to flee the New York metro area years ago.

Our house in Wickenburg is at a slightly higher elevation than Phoenix: 2200 feet vs. 1000 feet in the Valley. Because of this, we get just about the same weather as Phoenix, although we tend to run 5°F cooler year-round. (This is one of the reasons I escape to northern Arizona or Washington State every summer.)

The autumn, winter, and spring weather, in general, is a monotony of perfectly clear sunny days. In the height of winter, nighttime temperatures might dip to below freezing, but it general climbs back up to the 60s or even 70s once the sun rises high into the cloudless sky. Rain is a welcome treat. Storms are a rarity.

We had a storm yesterday, however. A low came in from the Pacific coast, dragging along tons of moisture as it moved in from the southwest. We had low clouds all day long — it was one of the 10 or so days each year when it’s impossible to fly VFR. The rain came and went — a good, soaking rain that the desert really needs. The radar showed various shades of green throughout our area, with pink and blue (icy mix and snow) in higher elevations just 10 miles north.

It got dark and the rain continued into the night. Then the wind started. The weather forecast warned of a Wind Advisory with winds gusting as high as 58 mph throughout the area. It even suggested that vehicles stay off of I-10, which runs from the Los Angeles area through Phoenix and then south to Tucson before turning east again toward New Mexico.

I was alone at home last night with Jack the Dog and Alex the Bird. Jack wanted no part of the outdoors yesterday and it was tough just getting him out there long enough to do his business. We closed up the house around 7 PM, shutting off the lights downstairs so Alex could sleep. I watched a movie on our DVR while the wind started to whip up around the house. By the time I climbed into bed to read, the storm was in full swing.

It was the sound of the wind that prompted me to write this. I want to remember, in the future, how it sounded, so I figured I’d write it down in my journal — after all, that’s what this blog really is.

The wind had an otherworldly sound. It was the low frequency moan of a male voice, almost ghostly, rising and falling in pitch as as the wind’s intensity rose and fell. Rain pelted the flat roof and big windows. All this noise was accompanied by the rattling of the french doors that lead from our bedroom to upstairs patio and the pulsating of the window panes. More than once, I got up to check the doors to make sure they wouldn’t suddenly blow open.

Sometimes I heard a deep rumbling sound off in the distance. I’ve read time and time again that tornadoes sound like freight trains. I wondered whether there was any danger of that. Nothing in the forecast; I told myself not to worry.

Occasionally, the house shook on its foundation. It made me wonder what the wind speed really was. I dialed up the AWOS for Wickenburg Municipal Airport (E25) and listened to the automatically generated recording. Winds from 220 at 26 gusting to 39. I thought about how hurricane force winds would sound and feel against the house. I resolved yet again not to move into an area likely to get hurricanes or tornadoes.

I grew tired of reading and turned out the light. But I lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds around me, comforted by the steady drone of the heat pump keeping the upstairs warm until its set-back time at 11 PM. Just as I was thinking about how unusual it was that we hadn’t lost power, the power failed. The heat-pump went quiet and the ambient light from my neighbor’s yard went dark. Now the only thing to hear and feel was the wind and the vibrations on the house.

I fell asleep a while later and slept remarkably well until 4 or 5 am. I woke suddenly and looked out the bedroom door toward the big window facing southeast. A bright splash of moonlight illuminated the shelves and floor there. The storm had cleared out. The waning moon, approaching its last quarter, was shining like a beacon over the desert.

Outside, the wind still howled. I fell back to sleep.

I Don’t Care How Many Return Address Labels You Send Me

I still won’t donate to your religion-based charity.

Christmas LabelsThis year, I received a bumper crop of pre-printed return address labels. I got some with autumn colors and decorations (leaves and pumpkins), some with Thanksgiving themes (turkeys and cornucopias), and plenty with Christmas themes (Christmas trees, snowmen, candy canes, and wreaths). I kept them all. After all, I still do send out the occasional piece of mail, and it’s nice to have a colorful return address label to put on it.

I also got a bunch of religious-themed ones (crosses, Mary, baby Jesus). I threw those away. I’m not a religious person and certainly don’t want anyone to think I am.

Of course, all of these return address labels came with a pre-addressed return envelope and donation form. I threw those away, too.

Religious-themed or not, every single return address label I received as a “gift” was from a religious charity. If I’m not a religious person, why would I donate money to a religious charity? There are so many other non-religious charities that are just as noble — if not more so — than ones waving a religious banner.

I have Covenant House to thank for all of these labels. Last year, at the request of an author who had given me an autographed copy of his book, I made a $20 donation to his pet charity. It wasn’t until after I made the donation that I realized what the charity was all about. Yes, they do help battered women and children, etc. But they do so in their special Christian way. That way obviously includes using a direct mailing campaign to nag the hell out of anyone who has ever donated a dime so they keep sending money. I get at least one mailer a month from them, despite multiple requests to get off their list. That way also includes selling my name and address to all the other religious charities they know so they can pester me as well.

Of course, they do send those useful labels, so it isn’t all bad.

I believe that many people donate when they receive these “gifts” because they feel guilty if they don’t. Like God is going to strike them dead or sick or something. Or they’ll just get bad karma.

But the way I see it, a “gift” is a gift. It doesn’t require anything in return. I didn’t ask them to send me these labels. I don’t really need them. Why should I pay for them?

Think of it this way: If someone were to park a new car on your driveway and then ring your doorbell, hand you the keys and a clean title, and ask you for $25,000, would you pay him? Other than the perceived value, how are the labels any different?

And wouldn’t it be wasteful to throw all those pretty labels away?

The Junk Drawer

And what I found there.

We keep our stamps and batteries in a drawer in a built-in desk in our kitchen. Sadly, that’s not the only thing kept in that drawer. Over the years, our cleaning person used it as a catch-all for little things she could fit in there. And we apparently added our own things.

Today, sick of dealing with a drawer I could often not close, I emptied it as a prelude to cleaning it out. Here’s what it looked like neatly arranged on my kitchen’s center island:

My Junk

Here’s what I found:

  • A set of 6 precision screwdrivers with 3 of them missing.
  • A screwdriver that does not belong to the above set.
  • 3 small padlocks: 1 with keys, 1 with combination known, 1 with combination unknown.
  • A “Jet Fuel Only” sticker, which is kind of odd because none of our vehicles takes JetA.
  • A small plastic ruler.
  • 3 promotional pens, all working. Why they aren’t in the pencil cup on the desk is a mystery.
  • 4 black wooden pencils with erasers, only one of which is sharpened.
  • A pencil sharpener.
  • Numerous sheets of return address labels with various holiday themes, all received in the mail by charities that thought I’d pay for them when I never asked for them. (Wrong.)
  • 2 broken sterling silver bracelets, badly tarnished.
  • An empty Tylenol purse size bottle.
  • Part of a AA battery charger, but not the part that actually plugs into the wall.
  • An exposed roll of 35mm film.
  • A small red square plastic filter.
  • A single-hole punch.
  • A wooden clothespin
  • A small black plastic protractor (think elementary school).
  • An iPod belt clip.
  • An embroidered Ducati patch.
  • 2 round adhesive-back pieces of Velcro, both soft side.
  • 2 pennies
  • 2 rolls of quarters
  • 1 roll of dimes
  • A Garden State Parkway toll token
  • A bottle of Plexus 2 plastic polish
  • A bottle of stamp pad ink
  • A First Class Mail self-inking stamp
  • A telephone jack splitter
  • A tiny of green tea flavored “mints”
  • 2 black binder clips: 1 small, 1 large
  • Several dozen paper clips, 5 of which are preconfigured as Macintosh floppy disk removal tools. (Long-time Mac users know exactly what I mean.)
  • A handful of rubber bands, half of which are dried, cracked, and unusable
  • The “start” pin for a light timer.
  • A tube of dark red lipstick.
  • A tube of Blistex.
  • 2 rings for hanging bird toys in a cage.
  • 8 key rings, empty
  • A key ring flashlight with AAA battery still working
  • 3 partial rows of staples
  • A contact lens case
  • A small round sponge
  • An envelope slitter
  • Multiple screws, including two screw-in hooks
  • A rubber foot for some kind of stand
  • A wooden peg for our futon
  • A wooden peg that looks like it came from a game
  • A lapel mic clip
  • 3 black beads, 2 of which are almost identical
  • 3 promotional pins: 2 Feedburner logos and 1 QuickBooks heart Mac
  • 2 WINGS program pins
  • A tiny safety pin
  • 5 various sized wire ties
  • A sprayer nozzle
  • Magnet-backed promotional 2002 calendar from an out-of-business local mechanic
  • A rock with bits of green color
  • A SanDisk neoprene zippered media card holder
  • A bookmark with Mount Rushmore pictured on it
  • The manual for a Sony cassette recorder
  • A pocket calculator, not solar-powered, with installed battery still functioning
  • A piece of masking tape marked “Do Not Open” with the adhesive dried up. I have no idea what this was affixed to, but recognize my handwriting. (I hope I didn’t open it.)
  • A Bed Bath & Beyond Gift Card, likely never used
  • A package of drapery pins
  • My “captain” pilot stripes from the summer of 2004, when I flew at the Grand Canyon
  • A Newton rechargeable Battery Pack
  • 7 D cell batteries, 2 of which are in an unopened package
  • 2 loose C cell batteries
  • 43 loose AA cell batteries: 6 lithium, 17 alkaline, and 20 rechargeable (4 nickel-cadmium, 15 nickel-metal hydride, and 1 unknown)
  • 8 AAA cell batteries in an unopened package
  • 2 9-volt batteries, both rechargeable nickel-metal hydride
  • Numerous postage stamps in the following denominations: 1¢, 2¢, 3¢, 4¢, 20¢, 27¢, 41¢, 42¢, 72¢, $1, $3, $3.85, $4.80, $4.95, “forever” (current First Class rate)

No, I did not find a partridge in a pear tree, despite the season.

The batteries pose a problem. The rechargeables are likely all dead for good, but there’s no place to recycle them in Wickenburg. The other loose batteries are probably at least half spent, which is why we don’t use them. The lithiums likely came out of my SPOT Messenger, which requires lithium batteries. When they’re too used to rely on them in SPOT — which I need to have fresh batteries — they work great in my handheld GPS and most other devices. The fact that we have so many loose batteries amazes me. It’s probably because they kept sliding into the back of the drawer and we kept buying more.

Anyway, the drawer is now empty. My next tasks is to clean it out — with soap and water — and then put back in the things that are supposed to be in there: batteries, stamps, and a few things likely to be in a regular desk drawer.

The rest of this crap? Who knows where it will end up?

And I wonder what’s on that roll of film…