Aircraft Upgrades Create Flying Lab for Fun, Performance Gains

First, I dusted off my old La Pavoni Europiccola lever machine and reminded myself how much I used to enjoy the art and science of extracting the perfect shot. Within weeks, I upgraded to an ECM Puristika and continued on my merry way of pursuing quickly diminishing returns via an ever-expanding assortment of cool gadgetry.

For the most part, it’s an exercise in futility. With a palate conditioned by years of McDonald’s fries and Qdoba burritos, my ability to accurately discern the ideal balance between clarity and texture is laughable at best. Indeed, the idea of me evaluating the subtle notes brought out through a grinder with precision-machined flat burrs is like expecting a moderately bright woodchuck to develop an appreciation of the exquisite balance of shading and lighting depicted in an original Rembrandt. 

But darn it, playing with technique and gadgetry is as addictive as the espresso itself. And, as it turns out, not altogether different from some of the fun parts of being an airplane owner.

My Cessna 170 is a perfect example of upgrades and gear being installed as much for fun than for raw performance gains. One look at the airplane suggests it is a tool regularly utilized to access off-airport destinations in the rugged Alaskan backcountry. But in reality, it’s only ever used to play on grass runways among the rolling woods and farms of rural Wisconsin.

Some would describe this as a textbook example of a poseur. And in one sense, they’d be correct. I cannot, after all, justify all of my upgrades with a legitimate need, and every bit of flying I do can be accomplished without any of them.

On the other hand, none of the upgrades I’ve made were installed to fit into any particular crowd or elevate social status. Instead, each item represents an individual exploration into tangible improvements to the flying experience. Each one has been a technical evaluation fueled by curiosity.

Installing my big, 29-inch Alaskan Bushwheel tires has proven to be one of the more fun evaluations. While I legitimately need slightly larger tires for some of the soft and uneven surfaces I use, less-expensive 8.50s would absolutely suffice. But coming from a bicycle background, I knew a thing or two about floatation and the concern of valve stems shearing off when the tire pressure is particularly low.

As I considered the pros and cons, learning as much as I could about the big bushwheels, I decided that, if nothing else, evaluating them throughout a flying season could create a fascinating experience all its own. Not just assessing how they alter the airplane's capabilities, but how they change how I fly and enjoy it.

Recognizing and acknowledging that they might fall short of expectations, I opted to test the waters with a used set. Turning to Craigslist, I found a set for sale about 90 minutes away for $2,000—half what they would cost new. Worst case, I figured, I could fly them for the summer and then resell them for the same amount.

As it turned out, the tires did much more than just enable operation upon soil that’s X-percent softer or allow me to take off in X-fewer feet. They delivered benefits that don’t appear on paper. The increased propeller clearance makes it more comfortable and less stressful to explore unkempt surfaces, and I no longer cringe and brace myself when bombing over clumps and ruts created by the snowplow.

Other upgrades have followed a similar path. 

While I could certainly still fly my airplane with the original, 1950s-era instrument panel, I can’t imagine giving up my upgraded Garmin panel. Like the bushwheels, it gives me more than just the textbook advantages you see on paper. It goes beyond that, providing me with peace of mind as I monitor engine trends and traffic in the vicinity, allowing me to focus on the elements of flying I enjoy most during each flight. 

Ultimately, I’ve viewed most of my upgrades as individual experiments and my airplane as a flying laboratory. It’s fascinating to evaluate how each one affects the airplane's capabilities, and it’s even more intriguing to experience how they alter the overall flying experience. Just as I have, over the years, enjoyed testing and evaluating the effect of individual bicycle components or espresso brewing tools, assessing modifications to my airplane has almost become a hobby of its own. After all, each alteration or adjustment warrants a flight or three to assess the changes.  

I just wish this new hobby were as affordable as the others.