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Wunper
7th Aug 2002, 08:14
Just rxed this I dont know who the author is, but he knows the game , I think it should be on the ATPL(H) syllabus!


Wunper ;)



______Forward Header_____________________
Subject: HOW TO OPERATE A HELICOPTER MECHANIC

Date: 7/2/02 6:56 PM


A long long time ago, back in the days of iron men and rotor blades, a ritual began.

It takes place when a helicopter pilot approaches a mechanic to report some difficulty with his aircraft. All mechanics seem to be aware of it, which leads to the conclusion that it's included somewhere in their training, and most are diligent in practicing it.

New pilots are largely ignorant of the ritual, because it's neither included in their training, not handed down to them by older drivers. Older drivers feel that the pain of learning everything the hard way was so exquisite that they shouldn't deny anyone the pleasure.

There are pilots who refuse to recognize it, as a serious professional
amenity,no matter how many times they perform it, and are driven to distraction by it.

Some take it personally. They get red in the face, fume, and boil, and do foolish dances. Some try to take it as a joke, but its always dead serious.
Mostpilots find they can't change it, and so accept it and try to practice it with some grace.

The ritual is accomplished before any work is actually done on the aircraft. It has four parts and goes something like this:

1. The pilot reports the problem. The mechanic says "There is nothing wrong with it."
2. The pilot repeats his complaint. The mechanic maintains, "It's the
gauge."
3. The pilot persists, plaintively. The mechanic maintains, "There all like that."
4. The pilot, heatedly now, explains the problem carefully, enunciating
carefully. The mechanic states, "I can't fix it."

After the ritual has been played through its entirety, serious discussion begins and the problem is usually solved forthwith.

Like most rituals, this one has its roots in antiquity and a basis in
Experience and common sense. It started back when mechanics first learned to operate pilots, and still serves a number of purposes. Its most important function,is that it is a good basic diagnostic technique. Causing the pilot to explain the symptoms of the problem several times in increasing detail, not only saves trouble shooting time, but gives the mechanic insight into the pilots knowledge
of how the machine works, and his state of mind.

Every mechanic knows that if the last flight was performed at night, or in bad
weather, some of the problems reported are imagined, some exaggerated, and some are real. Likewise, a personal problem, especially romantic or financial,but including simple fatigue, affects a pilots perception of every little rattle and thump. There are also chronic whiners and complainers to be weeded out and dealt with. While performing the ritual, an unscrupulous mechanic can find out if thepilot can be easily intimidated. If the driver has an obvious personality disorder like prejudices, pet peeves, tender spots, or other manias, they will
stick out like handles, which he can be steered around.

There is a proper way to operate a mechanic, as well. Don't confuse
"operating" a mechanic with "putting one in his place." The worst and often most repeated mistake, is to try and establish an "I'm the pilot, you are just the mechanic" hierarchy. Although alot of mechanics can and do fly, recreationally, they don't give a dam about doing it for a living. There satisfaction come from working on expensive and complex machinery. As a pilot, you are neither feared nor envied,
but merely tolerated, for until they actually do train monkeys to fly those things, he needs a pilot to put the parts in motion so he can tell if everything is working properly. The driver who tries to put a mechanic in his "place"is headed for a fall. Sooner or later, he will try to crank with the blade tied down. After he has snatched the tail boom, around to the cabin door, and completely burnt out the engine, he'll look across the way and see the mechanic standing there sporting a funny little smirk. Helicopter mechanics are indifferent to attempts at discipline or regimentation other than the discipline of their craft. It is accepted that a good mechanics personality should
contain unpredictable mixtures of irascibility and nonchalance, and should exhibit at least some bizarre behavior.

The basic operation of a mechanic involves four steps:

1. Clean an aircraft. Get out a hose or bucket, a broom and some rags, and at some strange time of day, like early morning, or when you take your afternoon nap, start cleaning that bird from top to bottom, and inside out. This is guaranteed to knock the sourest old wrench off balance. He'll be suspicious,but he will be attracted to the strange behaviors like a passing motoring to a road-side accident. He may even join in to make sure you don't break anything.
Before you know it, you'll be talking to each other about the aircraft while you are getting a more intimate knowledge of it. Maybe while you are mucking out the pilots station, you will see how rude it is to leave coffee cups, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, and other trash behind to be cleaned up.
2. Do a thorough pre-flight. Most mechanics a willing to admit to themselves that they might make a mistake, and since alot of his work must be done at night or in a hurry, a good one likes to have his work checked. Of course he would rather have another mech to do the checking, but a driver is better than nothing. Although they cultivate a dead-pan, don't give a dam attitude,mechanics have nightmares about forgetting to torque a nut or leaving tools in
inlets or drive shaft tunnels. A mech will let little gigs slide on a
machine that's never pre-flighted, not because they won't be noticed, but because he figures the driver will overlook something big some day and the whole thing will end up in a pile of smoking rubble anyway.
3. Don't abuse the machinery. Mechanics see drivers come and go, so you
won't impress one in a thousand with what you can make the aircraft do. They allknowshe'll lift more than max gross, and will do a hammer head with a half roll.
While the driver is confident that the blades and engine and massive framemembers will take it, the mech knows that it's the seals and bearings and rivetsdeep in the guts of the machine that fail from abuse. In a driver, mechanicsaren't looking for expensive clothes, flashy girlfriends, tricky maneuvers andlot's of juicy stories about WW Vietnam. They are looking for one who willfly the thing so that all the components make their full service life. They also know that high maintenance costs are a good excuse to keep salaries down.
4. Do a post-flight inspection. Nothing feels more deliciously dashing than to end the day by stepping down from the bird and walking off into the sunset while the blade slowly turns down. It's the stuff that beer commercials are made of.
The trouble is, it leaves the pilot ignorant of how the aircraft had faired after a hard days work, and leaves the wrench doing a slow burn. The mechanic is an engineer, not a groom, and need some fresh, first hand information on the aircraft's performance if he is to have it ready to go the next day. A little end of day conference also gives you one more chance to get him in the short ribs. Tell him the thing flew good. It has been known to have the faint dead away. As you can see, operating a helicopter mechanic is simple, but not easy.
What it boils down to, is that, if a pilot performs his pilot rituals religiously,in no time at all he will find the mechanic operating smoothly. I have not attempted to explain how to make friends with a mechanic, for that is not known.

Helicopter pilots and mechanics have a strange relationship. Ones job is toprovide the helicopter with love and care, the others is to provide the wear and tear. But, the bottom line is this, there is a symbolic partnership here,because one job depends on the other.

CRAN
7th Aug 2002, 08:44
Brilliant!

CRAN
:cool:

LOOSE NUT
7th Aug 2002, 09:00
Wunper,

Spot on, I am learning this subject at the University of Life, I hope
hope every one else is to. Attending a different school for my flying though (wont plug it).

LOOSE NUT.

sprocket
7th Aug 2002, 11:35
Wunper, that was a good read.

TeeS
7th Aug 2002, 14:22
When I first started at this base, the engineer had three stock answers that handled all situations.

1. "They are all like that"
2. "It's residual"
3. "It's just bedding in"

I have to say that it did minimise tech log entries!!!;)

7th Aug 2002, 15:16
The mechanics favourite song - to the tune of Camptown Races

System tested, no fault found doo dah, doo dah
Cannot reproduce fault on the ground, doo dah, doo dah, day

S76Heavy
7th Aug 2002, 20:19
Excellent stuff. But I hope you mean "symbiotic partnership"?

sprocket
7th Aug 2002, 21:33
TeeS: One more for your list ..... 4. "We're letting it develop!"

Irlandés
8th Aug 2002, 02:06
While we're on the subject... you've all read this before but it rewards multiple readings!!! :)

Irlandés

***************

Qantas
Never let it be said that ground crews and engineers lack a sense of humour. Here are some actual maintenance complaints/problems, generally known as squawks, recently submitted by QANTAS Pilots to maintenance engineers. After attending to the squawks, maintenance crews are required to log the details of the action taken to solve the pilots' squawks.

(P - The problem logged by the pilot.)
(S - The solution and action taken by the engineers.)

P - Left inside main tyre almost needs replacement.
S - Almost replaced left inside main tyre.

P - Test flight OK, except autoland very rough.
S - Autoland not installed on this aircraft.

P - No. 2 propeller seeping prop fluid.
S - No. 2 propeller seepage normal - Nos. 1, 3 and 4 propellers lack normal seepage.

P - Something lose in cockpit.
S - Something tightened in cockpit.

P - Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
S - Evidence removed.

P - DME volume unbelievably loud.
S - Volume set to more believable level.

P - Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
S - That's what they are there for!

P - IFF inoperative.
S - IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P - Suspected crack in windscreen.
S - Suspect you're right.

P - Number 3 engine missing.
S - Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P - Aircraft handles funny.
S - Aircraft warned to "Straighten up, Fly Right, and Be Serious."

P - Target radar hums.
S - Reprogrammed target radar with words.

P - Mouse in cockpit.
S - Cat installed.


Ha ha! :D

Sir HC
5th Nov 2006, 05:44
Just thought I would bring this back to the top, it has been 4 years. Sorry to those who have read it already.

CYHeli
5th Nov 2006, 07:55
It just proves that good airmanship does not only take place 'in the air'.

mustfly1
5th Nov 2006, 08:27
Its the newness wearing off :)

Camp Freddie
5th Nov 2006, 08:31
one more for the quotes list

5. "that oil leak. thats spare oil"

regards

CF

3D CAM
5th Nov 2006, 11:52
"We will see what it's like after the next flight!" or...
"It flew in so it must be o.k." or....
"It was o.k. till you flew it!"

HOGE
5th Nov 2006, 14:58
6. "That'll do another trip".

slgrossman
5th Nov 2006, 16:03
The author of "How to Operate a Helicopter Mechanic" is Willie Dykes. I've never met the man, but after first reading the article some 15 years ago I've adopted it as part of my personal credo. Below is another great article he wrote more recently.

Why You Don't Make Any Money!

By Willie Dykes

Foreword: The article is a little raw. It is an attempt to describe a 37 year love/hate relationship with this industry. The open-endedness is deliberate. Though it's a little hard to see in the exchanges contained in your forum, I have found helicopter pilots to be among the most intelligent, clear thinking, and broad minded people on the planet. They don't need to be told what to do. This problem of ours needs all the creativity and energy we can muster from the boys. If the discussion/debate is kept loud and noisy, the solution will emerge-usually from the least likely source. Your site is the best thing we have going for us. Power to the people.

When I first started flying helicopters commercially, I thought I was going to get rich. After a few years that started to look silly, so then I wanted to earn enough to make a down payment on a single family dwelling and own a two year old car. Since that, too, stayed just out of reach, I decided I just wanted to make as much as a bull cook. As most of you know, a bull cook doesn’t cook. They do all the heavy, dirty, and menial work around a camp or an oil rig. This is not to demean the position or worth of the bull cook, for in the leaky lifeboat of camp life, the pilot would be thrown overboard long before the bull cook if freeboard became an issue. Bull cooks make about 50% more than helicopter pilots in most camps, for working a better schedule.

Helicopter pilots almost made bull cook wages in Alaska back in the 90's when the USGS was setting up for a summer field campaign. Wages for all the personnel needed to operate a camp were set by the contract, so that the bidders wouldn’t have to cut each other’s throats with slave labor. The helicopter pilots (flying Hughes 500's or Bell 206's) were to be paid just like the other hands, with straight pay for a normal day, and overtime for anything over. All this at the same, preset, uniform level for all bidders. Since the pilots would naturally be available for 14 hours a day, seven days a week, the potential monthly stipend was an eye-opener. The goose was strangled, however, before the first egg was laid. The helicopter operators got together and lobbied the government for a change in the pay scale. They said, not just in essence, but in fact, “We can’t pay helicopter pilots that much money!” What they meant was, if they paid their little bird drivers over twice what the medium and heavy drivers were getting, the older drivers would demand the jobs, and they would have no experienced hands to operate the bigger birds. Paying helicopter pilots as much as bull cooks would wreck the industry as we know it! The pay scale was changed, the industry was saved, and the bull cooks retained swaggering rights on pay day.

So that begs the question-should we really be making any more money for what we do? Have you ever looked at what you guys do for a living? Guiding a contraption that is nothing but a gas bomb surrounded by slashing blades that will disintegrate at the slightest contact down through holes in huge trees and among jagged rocks. Hovering over mountainous waves in a gale at night with a guy attached to you by a swinging cable, so far out in the ocean that you probably won’t have enough gas to get home. Scud running through towers, power lines, and notches in the hills with just enough vis for an “OH s**t” before you hit something, carrying somebody’s broken child in the back that’s dying by the second. Spending your entire workday shifting your concentration from instruments at three feet to the end of a 100' cable while using both hands and feet to maintain your position in the air, where just shutting your eyes for ten seconds to ease the strain would cause a violent, fatal, zillion dollar wreck. Doing twenty or thirty landings a day while poking around in the summertime soup that’s the GOM. I know you feel relatively safe, and even enjoy it some, but you have to look at it objectively. The U.S. Forest Service pays its firefighters 25% more for working around helicopters than for just fighting raging forest fires. The Emergency Services folks in the region where I flew EMS required that a fully staffed fire truck be present whenever a helicopter landed off an airport. That’s when I started asking myself “Am I a cross between Evel Knievel and the Lone Ranger?” If I am, then why is everybody else on the job making more money, and working a better schedule?

I know, I’m a weenie and a whiner. If you gave me money, next I’d want a life-it never ends. The Oriental axiom that everything is just as it should be at any given time needs to be brought into play.

Once upon a time, there were almost no helicopters around. They were operated by a handful of men who could be described as promoters, pioneers, bandits, or visionaries. The general public regarded the machines as a novelty, and their niche in aviation was tiny and tenuous. Then came WW Viet Nam. All of a sudden, these middle aged entrepreneurs had access to capable, reliable machines and an endless supply of child pilots. Personnel problems were non-existent. Pilots would work for whatever was offered, or offer to work for nothing. Many were single, rootless drifters who saw one place as being just about as good as another. Camp life was real life to them. The operators cannot be blamed for taking advantage of such a windfall. They were abetted by young drivers who were anxious to prove that it wasn’t for their lack of bravery and dedication that the war was lost Unlike the horde of airplane drivers that came out of WWII into the airline industry, the young helicopter pilots flew almost exclusively single pilot on jobs where not more than a few drivers saw one another at a time. They grew frustrated, suspicious of their bosses and brethren, and bitter from the powerlessness of their situation.

It was during these years from about 1965-1975 that many of the industry standards became set in stone. It wasn’t because they were well thought out, or even reasonable, and very little of it was done on purpose. It’s just the way things were. Pilots could be had for nothing, and so they became pitiful objects in their own eyes and the eyes of those they worked alongside. In many venues, including the home, a man’s paycheck is a measure of his worth. The profession and the skills associated with it must not amount to much if it doesn’t pay well. The fiercely competitive operators were not about to give an opponent a break by laying out more for wages unilaterally, so everybody soldiered on, building resentment and ill will. From the pilot’s point of view, since you made no money and had no life, there was no reason for loyalty or rationale for longevity on any particular job. Thus the gypsy helicopter pilot was born. He could usually be depended on to do a journeyman’s job for a time, but often left for other pastures with little warning. The operators of the time were best represented by a remark that is attributed to Bob Suggs of PHI. When asked if he worried about a shortage of helicopter pilots, he is said to have replied, “I can get all the helicopter pilots I need in the gutters of New Orleans.” If it hadn’t been true, everyone would have just laughed.

Nowadays, a lot of young folks who investigate the profession end up walking away scratching their heads. Flying helicopters looks like it would be so cool, but the parts of the scenario don’t add up. The work is demanding and often patently dangerous. The training is outrageously expensive and will not result in your being hireable. The job allows little time or space for anything resembling real life, and the pay seems fairly ordinary. Their question is, “Why would anyone do this?”

The only way a game this silly could continue is if everybody agrees to play. The operators are in business, and in modern business practice, if long range planning has a significant impact on the short-term bottom line it will be ignored. There may be a train wreck coming in the form of a pilot shortage, or pilot revolution, but they have to hear some brakes screeching before they act. The customers are only too willing to put on the blinders when assured by the operators that helicopter pilots are not affected by fatigue and circadian rhythms like other humans. This voluntary delusion also allows them to believe that a person who is chronically peeved about his schedule and compensation will do them a wonderful job. Pilots aren’t like other people, they have a code-don’t they?

The pilots are playing just as hard as anybody else. The only way to perpetuate the myth that “I’m the only one who can actually fly these things worth a damn” is to belittle and put down the rest of the guys. The logging pilot calls the EMS guy a weenie because he only averages an hour a day of flight time. The EMS guy calls the logging pilot an idiot, because anybody who does what he does should be making at least 150 grand a year. Relationships among disciplines and among individual drivers are characterized by condescension and disrespect. Killing everyone else in the room is a proven shortcut to proving your individuality. Flight training philosophy in the U.S., military and civilian, is based on the “Kick me beat me” system where the instructor gets to lord it over the student and eventually convinces him that his reward for taking it will be that he will get to kick and beat others someday. Fun, but not exactly uplifting. A no-fly decision by one pilot for weather or other operational safety reasons is seen as a direct challenge and call to action by every other pilot in the neighborhood. As a result, no day is so long, no log is so heavy, and no weather so funky that the customer won’t fully expect some dummy to try it. Helicopter pilots see their fate as totally unconnected to that of anyone or anything else. Interesting, if juvenile, perspective. If nobody dies, the operator, customer, and the pilot are tickled to death to call blind luck good procedure.

This combination of factors has produced a perception of helicopter pilots that is pervasive in American Society. Perception is always stronger than truth, and is almost impossible to fight. The aggregate perception is of an iconoclastic, back biting, uppity tradesman.

That’s why you don’t make any money. .

Market forces may eventually make material changes in the situation, but don’t count on it. Every incipient pilot shortage is preceded by a military buildup or a recession. The number of patients killed by stressed-out, fatigue-muddled EMS crews will cause the medical insurance agencies to rethink air transport. It will remain more of a carnival ride than a profession. The only person who could possibly be counted on to save you is a lonely actuary trapped in some lonely cubicle in an insurance agency, who runs the numbers on accidents. He will find, to the horror of all involved, that tired pilots drop things and bump into things, just like everyone else.

Since the picture is bleak and unlikely to change, the only real mystery that remains is why anyone would do it. There’s an answer, and it’s not good news. The sensation of rotary wing flight is such a powerful drug that it blocks out all reason in those unfortunate enough to have used it. The mindless linear zooming that airplane drivers call “flight” has a certain limited appeal. Just being up in the air is novelty enough to entertain a few-take balloons for example. But being the mind in the body of a bird is the kind of feeling that would cause a person to behave strangely. The ability to savor this feeling while performing useful work is an addiction that can only lead to poverty, obscurity, and bitterness. It’s a terrible job, but you like it too much to quit. You’re screwed.

The guys who are saying shut up and cowboy up, and the commie firebrands crying union are all pulling for the same cause. They are trying, one through stoicism, one through pay scale, to bring some respect into the helicopter industry. You don’t make no money cause you don’t get no respect, and you don’t get no respect cause you don’t make no money. Like I said, you’re screwed.

22clipper
5th Nov 2006, 23:05
Willie is nearly correct. The really screwed are in fact pilot-owners, to be more specific pilot owners up the shallow end of the money pool. I call it life-on-the-edge, keeping ycour machine serviceable without letting your mechanic send you into bankruptcy.

The other day my R22 developed an annoying problem whereby one time in five it won't start. I used a pocket multimeter to determine that its because power isn't making it to the starter motor/ starting solenoid unit, then I visited the mechanic.

His initial reaction to "I got a starter problem" was "I'll replace the starter". This is another step in the pilot/mechanic Tango. Mechanics have never heard of diagnosis, that's what doctors do. Mechanics replace stuff till they get lucky & hit the jackpot, bingo problem fixed!

I explained my findings with the multimeter. That kind of threw a spanner in the works. So the mechanic cleaned some terminals & tightenmed some connections instead. Meanwhile I'm carrying a jumper lead under the seat till I can pinpoint the culprit!