Done, or Done Enough?

Four years into scratch building a Sonex, I was still wholly focused on the building. The wings were on, the tail was on, and it stood on its own three feet. The engine was mounted, plumbed, and wired. The propeller torqued. Instruments, upholstery, and seatbelts were in place. I didn’t acknowledge my progress until someone pointed out that I could be flying in two weeks. Later that day, as my feet beat out the rhythm of a run, my mind inventoried the tasks that remained before I could put sky beneath the tires of my airplane: install the upholstery, build and install the gear leg fairings, fit the wheel pants, attach the data plate, apply the N-number, calibrate the fuel flow, rig the flaps and ailerons, develop a first-flight checklist, and program the radio. I’m sure there were other items, but I agreed; I could have the airplane flying in two weeks. The wheel pants and gear leg fairings could wait. Fuel flow wasn’t required for flight. The cowl, cosmetically ugly as a work in progress, would still function with pinholes in the gelcoat. However, my airplane project, like my running, was always a journey, never a race.

While building Metal Illness, I stayed focused on the task at hand. Contemplating the work that remained to make a wingless fuselage in my garage fly may have brought the project to a halt. To paraphrase Lao Tzu, “An airplane of 10,000 rivets begins with the first one.” And it’s nowhere near done with 9,950 rivets installed.

The Pause Between Project and Plane

A pause between active building and active flying … whether a few days or a few weeks … is a time to transition between two distinct mindsets. On a first flight, your mind must be focused on flying a machine that has never flown before, not distracted by unfinished tasks. Building decisions can be made at a casual pace or postponed for another work session. Situations that arise during flight require immediate action. For that, you must be in a pilot’s mindset, not contemplating the thickness of the upholstery.

Two transitions occur during a first flight: A project becomes an airplane, and building becomes debugging, repair, and maintenance. The left wing may fly low, the rudder will need a trim tab, the radio may have static, and the engine may run hot. The building tasks left unfinished (fitting wheel pants, perfecting the finish of the fiberglass, and fine-tuning the door or canopy latch) will take a back seat to flight testing. The engine’s break-in maintenance will consume time you would have spent fitting the gear leg fairings and wheel pants. How long do you want to fly without the performance gains fairings provide, or sit on stadium seat cushions?

What Is “Done”?

How do you determine when your airplane is done? I decided my airplane was done when it only needed pigmented paint on the fiberglass bits. I didn’t fly until the fiberglass parts were filled and sanded to perfection and all wore a consistent shade of primer. You’ll create your own definition of “done” but, if you haven’t given it thought, I’ll offer this guidance: Your airplane is done when the last item on your well-thought-out-but-ever-evolving to-do list has been crossed off and … try as you might … you can’t identify one more thing to tighten, measure, lubricate, label, wire, inspect, install, or program. In short, you’ll go to the hangar to work on your project but won’t find anything to do but sit in silent communion with your airplane.

I’ll also define when an airplane isn’t done. It isn’t done on a specific date on the calendar, such as your birthday, the anniversary of your solo, the weekend your extended family is in town for a reunion, or just in time for AirVenture. It isn’t done when someone else says your airplane is done or if any doubt remains in your mind that it is done, even if the FAA has signed its birth certificate.

Your desire to build an airplane probably simmered for years before you settled on the right airplane and found the time, money, and space to build it. After years of construction, why rush it to completion when you are closer than ever to fulfilling your dream? I finished Metal Illness about six months after I was told it could be flying in two weeks. Not rushing its completion may be why I was able to log 100 trouble-free hours the first year it was flying.