hihosland

OOPS !! now I know what I was doing wrong, I merely clicked on the image attached to Kasper's post and had not read the text which clearly explained what was going on. My apologies Kasper many thanks and best of wishes David H PS I too just went along with the requested action from Tech. At a cost of 3 mins with a paint brush compliance was much the preferable action cf entering into a protracted "discussion"

Interesting; When I go to the portal I get a tech manual version 3 of 2007 However Kasper quotes version 4 of 2014 What is going on?. or what am I doing wrong?

No trouble logging on nor changing my password BUT Have a letter from Raaus referencing Tech manual section 9.1 The web portal has a 2007 version of the tech manual that terminates at section 7

http://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/plane-and-skydiver-collide-in-florida/5/

Pusher prop and open windows, calls for careful stowage of anything loose But what a fun machine but way out of my budget

Tooradin has excellent restaurant (fish a speciality) on the field and a snack bar when the skydivers are operating as well as tea etc at flying school La Trobe ( Tararalgon) has tea and pies at the aeroclub and a motel with a restaurant 800 mtr walk

That's the one Although not Marilyn Munroe until 5 years later Having arrived in California, Norma Jeane managed to get a job at the Radioplane Co. as an assembler on the OQ-3 production line. On 26 June 1945, army photographer David Conover was sent to the factory by his commanding officer, one Captain Ronald Reagan (an acting buddy of Reginald Denny's), to photograph women war workers. The camera and the photographer loved Norma Jeane and he persuaded her to model for more photos that soon were circulating in Hollywood. A screen test, a change of name and a career very different from assembling robot planes quickly followed. The rest as they say, 'is history.'

That's the one Although not Marilyn Munroe until 5 years later Having arrived in California, Norma Jeane managed to get a job at the Radioplane Co. as an assembler on the OQ-3 production line. On 26 June 1945, army photographer David Conover was sent to the factory by his commanding officer, one Captain Ronald Reagan (an acting buddy of Reginald Denny's), to photograph women war workers. The camera and the photographer loved Norma Jeane and he persuaded her to model for more photos that soon were circulating in Hollywood. A screen test, a change of name and a career very different from assembling robot planes quickly followed. The rest as they say, 'is history.'

[ATTACH=full]37422[/ATTACH]

My 10 yr old Skyranger V Max still has the original Odyssey battery My trim works well with a simple Bowden cable set up, adding a servo seems to me to be unnecessarly complicated Kit was built with 80hp Rotax and a Keiv prop with a brass leading edge, operations from paddocks and gravel airstrips severely damaged the leading edges to the point where the epoxy suffered and the edges were beginning to separate. Replaced with Kool prop with stainless leading edges riveted to the blade and a much more serviceable result. Probably not very relevant to your bigger motor and different wing. I suspect that the most useful addition that could have been made to my installation would have been an oil thermostat. best wishes with your build David h

My 10 yr old Skyranger V Max still has the original Odyssey battery My trim works well with a simple Bowden cable set up, adding a servo seems to me to be unnecessarly complicated Kit was built with 80hp Rotax and a Keiv prop with a brass leading edge, operations from paddocks and gravel airstrips severely damaged the leading edges to the point where the epoxy suffered and the edges were beginning to separate. Replaced with Kool prop with stainless leading edges riveted to the blade and a much more serviceable result. Probably not very relevant to your bigger motor and different wing. I suspect that the most useful addition that could have been made to my installation would have been an oil thermostat. best wishes with your build David h

PM me

yep!

pvt strip Koo Wee Rup to pvt strip McLaughlans beach 70 nautical miles 43 mins journey out and 133 mins on the return journey It is not very often I regret having a 75knt machine First officer Coco the dog was not impressed with the prolonged and bumpy ride.

the aviation museum at Ashburton is well worth a visit big museum in small town http://www.aviationmuseum.co.nz

BilbyBargins DevilDeals KangaStores, EchidnaEssentials Falcon Features GoanaGoods, GoanaGoodies, GoanaGear

Thinking from automotive ABS tech. It should be possible to electronically apply differential braking. ie sensor recognises a yaw and then activates differential hydraulic brakes as required to keep aircraft tracking straight. Software could be developed to facilitate required changes in direction Safety would require an on/off switch Just thinking Davidh

sitting recovering from minor surgery and scouring the net I found this Subject: Dedicated to Frank Crismon (1903-1990) Dedicated to Frank Crismon (1903-1990) by Capt. G. C. Kehmeier (United Airlines, Ret.) I ought to make you buy a ticket to ride this airline!" The chief pilot's words were scalding. I had just transferred from San Francisco to Denver. Frank Crismon, my new boss, was giving me a route check between Denver and Salt Lake City. "Any man who flies for me will know this route," he continued. "'Fourteen thousand feet will clear Kings Peak' is not adequate. You had better know that Kings Peak is exactly 13,498 feet high. Bitter Creek is not 'about 7,000 feet.' It is exactly 7,185 feet, and the identifying code for the beacon is dash dot dash. "I'm putting you on probation for one month, and then I'll ride with you again. If you want to work for me, you had better start studying!" Wow! He wasn't kidding! For a month, I pored over sectional charts, auto road maps, Jeppesen approach charts, and topographic quadrangle maps. I learned the elevation and code for every airway beacon between the West Coast and Chicago. I learned the frequencies, runway lengths, and approach procedures for every airport. From city road maps, I plotted the streets that would funnel me to the various runways at each city. A month later he was on my trip. "What is the length of the north-south runway at Milford?" "Fifty-one fifty." "How high is Antelope Island?" "Sixty-seven hundred feet." "If your radio fails on an Ogden-Salt Lake approach, what should you do?" "Make a right turn to 290 degrees and climb to 13,000 feet." "What is the elevation of the Upper Red Butte beacon?" "Seventy-three hundred." "How high is the Laramie Field?" "Seventy-two fifty." This lasted for the three hours from Denver to Salt Lake City. "I'm going to turn you loose on your own. Remember what you have learned. I don't want to ever have to scrape you off some hillside with a book on your lap!" Twenty years later, I was the Captain on a Boeing 720 from San Francisco to Chicago. We were cruising in the cold, clear air at 37,000 feet. South of Grand Junction a deep low-pressure area fed moist air upslope into Denver, causing snow, low ceilings, and restricted visibility. The forecast for Chicago's O'Hare Field was 200 feet and one-half mile, barely minimums. Over the Utah-Colorado border, the backbone of the continent showed white in the noonday sun. I switched on the intercom and gave the passengers the word. "We are over Grand Junction at the confluence of the Gunnison and Colorado Rivers. On our right and a little ahead is the Switzerland of America--the rugged San Juan Mountains. In 14 minutes we will cross the Continental Divide west of Denver. We will arrive O'Hare at 3:30 Chicago time." Over Glenwood Springs, the generator overheat light came on. "Number 2 won't stay on the bus," the engineer advised. He placed the essential power selector to number 3. The power failure light went out for a couple of seconds and then came on again, glowing ominously. "Smoke is coming out of the main power shield," the engineer yelled. "Hand me the goggles." The engineer reached behind the observer's seat, unzipped a small container, and handed the copilot and me each a pair of ski goggles. The smoke was getting thick. I slipped the oxygen mask that is stored above the left side of the pilot's seat over my nose and mouth. By pressing a button on the control wheel, I could talk to the copilot and the engineer through the battery-powered intercom. By flipping a switch, either of us could talk to the passengers. "Emergency descent!" I closed the thrust levers. The engines that had been purring quietly like a giant vacuum cleaner since San Francisco spooled down to a quiet rumble. I established a turn to the left and pulled the speed brake lever to extend the flight spoilers. "Gear down. Advise passengers to fasten seat belts and no smoking." I held the nose forward, and the mountains along the Continental Divide came up rapidly. The smoke was thinning. "Bring cabin altitude to 14,000 feet," I ordered. At 14,000 feet over Fraser, we leveled and retracted the gear and speed brakes. The engineer opened the ram air switch and the smoke disappeared. We removed our goggles and masks. Fuel is vital to the life of a big jet, and electricity is almost as vital. The artificial horizon and other electronic instruments, with which I navigated and made approaches through the clouds, were now so much tin and brass. All I had left was the altimeter, the airspeed, and the magnetic compass--simple instruments that guided airplanes 35 years earlier. "Advise passengers we are making a Denver stop." "The last Denver weather was 300 feet with visibility one-half mile in heavy snow. Wind was northeast at 15 knots with gusts to 20," the copilot volunteered. "I know. I heard it." The clouds merged against the mountains above Golden. Boulder was in the clear. To the northeast, the stratus clouds were thick like the wool on the back of a Rambouillet buck before shearing. I dropped the nose and we moved over the red sandstone buildings of the University of Colorado. We headed southeast and picked up the Denver-Boulder turnpike. "We will fly the turnpike to the Broomfield turnoff, then east on Broomfield Road to Colorado Boulevard, then south to 26th Avenue, then east to Runway 8." The copilot, a San Francisco reserve, gave me a doubtful look. One doesn't scud-run to the end of the runway under a 300-foot ceiling in a big jet. Coming south on Colorado Boulevard, we were down to 100 feet above the highway. Lose it and I would have to pull up into the clouds and fly the gauges when I had no gauges. Hang onto it and I would get into Stapleton Field. I picked up the golf course and started a turn to the left. "Gear down and 30 degrees." The copilot moved a lever with a little wheel on it. He placed the flap lever in the 30-degree slot. I shoved the thrust levers forward. "Don't let me get less than 150 knots. I'm outside." I counted the avenues as they slid underneath. . .30th, 29th, and 28th. I remembered that there was neither a 31st nor a 27th. I picked up 26th. The snow was slanting out of the northeast. The poplar trees and power lines showed starkly through the storm. With electrical power gone, we had no windshield heat. Fortunately, the snow was not sticking. "Let me know when you see a school on your side and hack my time at five-second intervals from the east side of the school yard." Ten seconds. "There it is. The yard is full of kids. Starting time now!" Good boy. Smiley faced Holly. From the east side of the school yard, I counted Kearney, then Krameria, Leydon, Locust. Remember the double lane for Monaco Parkway. Then Magnolia, Niagara, Newport. Time the speed at 130 knots. Only eight blocks to the end of the runway. Oneida, Olive, Pontiac, Poplar. From Quebec to Syracuse, the cross streets disappear; figure eight seconds. Keep 26th Avenue under the right side of the nose. "Full flaps." Dead ahead, glowing dimly in the swirling snow, were the three green lights marking the east end of Runway 8. We crossed 20 feet above the center green light and touched down in a crab to the left. I aligned the nose to the runway with the right rudder, dropped the nose wheel, popped the speed brakes, and brought in reverse thrust. It took us 10 minutes to find the terminal in the swirling whiteout. We saw the dim, flashing red light atop the building indicating the field was closed to all traffic. A mechanic materialized out of the snow carrying two wands. He waved me into the gate. I set the parking brake. "We have ground power," the engineer advised. "Cut the engines." The bagpipe skirl of sound spiraled down to silence. "My hat is off to you, skipper. I don't know how you ever found this airport." "I used to fly for an ornery old chief pilot who made me learn the route," I replied as I hung up my headset and scratched the top of my head where it itched. Frank Crismon passed away at his home in Denver on 25 Jan 1990. Editor's note: Professionalism, readiness, and knowledge can never be replaced by all the electronic gadgets in the world. Whether you drive a truck or a C-17, nothing beats knowing your capabilities and those of your machine, and knowing where you are at all times. It's hard to come up with options if you don't know what's going on. Frank M. Crismon CAHS Honored in 1991 Click to view the LAUREATES album Frank Crismon was born in Alberta, Canada on June 8, 1903. Frank had his first flight in a Curtiss Oriole with an airmail pilot in 1919. Later he sold tickets for a barnstormer who flew an Eaglerock in Utah. While attending the University of Utah in the 1920's, he was a member of the ROTC, which led him to aviation cadet training at March Field, California, from which he graduated as an Army pilot in 1930. He soloed was in April 1929 in a Consolidated PT-3 trainer. Shortly thereafter he became a bomber pilot, flying under the direction of Major "Tooey" Spaatz. In 1933, after his military service, he was hired by Boeing Air Transport (BAT), a predecessor of United Airlines. He was assigned as the first instrument flying instructor at the Salt Lake City base. The approach to Salt Lake City, over the dangerous Wasatch Mountains, was a matter of considerable concern. As a remedy, Frank helped design and implement a new radio range monitoring procedure. By 1932, he had become rated as an ATR, and he had obtained a FAA examiner's license. In 1942, Frank was made chief pilot of the Rocky Mountain Division of United Airlines, a position he held until his retirement in 1963. He had under his direction, over 200 flying officers, all of whom were to be exposed to his high standards of training and operations. During his tenure, there were no accidents involving an instrument procedure or terrain. Frank was instrumental in United Airlines adopting the Jeppesen Airway Manual Services. During a particularly bad snowstorm, he used Christmas trees to outline a runway at Stapleton Airport. Realizing that something had to be done about snow removal, he led the fight for new and better snow removal equipment. After an aircraft accident, Frank helped bring state-of-the-art crash equipment to Stapleton. United Airlines named a DC-8 airliner for him at the end of his active service, a very rare occurrence. He was a strong supporter of the Colorado Air National Guard and the United pilots flying for that organization. For this support, he was made an honorary Colonel in the CANG and an honorary member of the Minutemen flight demonstration team. This pioneer airman flew every aircraft type used by United Airlines, from Boeing 40-Bs to Boeing 720s, without mishaps or accidents. At the time of his retirement, he had amassed over 20,000 flying hours and had flown Will Rogers, Presidents Hoover and Eisenhower, Mrs. Roosevelt, General MacArthur, and many others. In later years, he and Mrs. Crismon established a memorial scholarship fund at Western State College to honor their Navy pilot son, Scot, who was killed during a night carrier landing off the coast of Viet Nam. By 1981, more than 250 students had benefited from this fund. They also aided the funding of the "F. Scott Crismon Memorial Field" at Western State College, to aid the sports programs at this school. Crismon (1903-1990) Dedicated to Frank Crismon (1903-1990) by Capt. G. C. Kehmeier (United Airlines, Ret.) I ought to make you buy a ticket to ride this airline!" The chief pilot's words were scalding. I had just transferred from San Francisco to Denver. Frank Crismon, my new boss, was giving me a route check between Denver and Salt Lake City. "Any man who flies for me will know this route," he continued. "'Fourteen thousand feet will clear Kings Peak' is not adequate. You had better know that Kings Peak is exactly 13,498 feet high. Bitter Creek is not 'about 7,000 feet.' It is exactly 7,185 feet, and the identifying code for the beacon is dash dot dash. "I'm putting you on probation for one month, and then I'll ride with you again. If you want to work for me, you had better start studying!" Wow! He wasn't kidding! For a month, I pored over sectional charts, auto road maps, Jeppesen approach charts, and topographic quadrangle maps. I learned the elevation and code for every airway beacon between the West Coast and Chicago. I learned the frequencies, runway lengths, and approach procedures for every airport. From city road maps, I plotted the streets that would funnel me to the various runways at each city. A month later he was on my trip. "What is the length of the north-south runway at Milford?" "Fifty-one fifty." "How high is Antelope Island?" "Sixty-seven hundred feet." "If your radio fails on an Ogden-Salt Lake approach, what should you do?" "Make a right turn to 290 degrees and climb to 13,000 feet." "What is the elevation of the Upper Red Butte beacon?" "Seventy-three hundred." "How high is the Laramie Field?" "Seventy-two fifty." This lasted for the three hours from Denver to Salt Lake City. "I'm going to turn you loose on your own. Remember what you have learned. I don't want to ever have to scrape you off some hillside with a book on your lap!" Twenty years later, I was the Captain on a Boeing 720 from San Francisco to Chicago. We were cruising in the cold, clear air at 37,000 feet. South of Grand Junction a deep low-pressure area fed moist air upslope into Denver, causing snow, low ceilings, and restricted visibility. The forecast for Chicago's O'Hare Field was 200 feet and one-half mile, barely minimums. Over the Utah-Colorado border, the backbone of the continent showed white in the noonday sun. I switched on the intercom and gave the passengers the word. "We are over Grand Junction at the confluence of the Gunnison and Colorado Rivers. On our right and a little ahead is the Switzerland of America--the rugged San Juan Mountains. In 14 minutes we will cross the Continental Divide west of Denver. We will arrive O'Hare at 3:30 Chicago time." Over Glenwood Springs, the generator overheat light came on. "Number 2 won't stay on the bus," the engineer advised. He placed the essential power selector to number 3. The power failure light went out for a couple of seconds and then came on again, glowing ominously. "Smoke is coming out of the main power shield," the engineer yelled. "Hand me the goggles." The engineer reached behind the observer's seat, unzipped a small container, and handed the copilot and me each a pair of ski goggles. The smoke was getting thick. I slipped the oxygen mask that is stored above the left side of the pilot's seat over my nose and mouth. By pressing a button on the control wheel, I could talk to the copilot and the engineer through the battery-powered intercom. By flipping a switch, either of us could talk to the passengers. "Emergency descent!" I closed the thrust levers. The engines that had been purring quietly like a giant vacuum cleaner since San Francisco spooled down to a quiet rumble. I established a turn to the left and pulled the speed brake lever to extend the flight spoilers. "Gear down. Advise passengers to fasten seat belts and no smoking." I held the nose forward, and the mountains along the Continental Divide came up rapidly. The smoke was thinning. "Bring cabin altitude to 14,000 feet," I ordered. At 14,000 feet over Fraser, we leveled and retracted the gear and speed brakes. The engineer opened the ram air switch and the smoke disappeared. We removed our goggles and masks. Fuel is vital to the life of a big jet, and electricity is almost as vital. The artificial horizon and other electronic instruments, with which I navigated and made approaches through the clouds, were now so much tin and brass. All I had left was the altimeter, the airspeed, and the magnetic compass--simple instruments that guided airplanes 35 years earlier. "Advise passengers we are making a Denver stop." "The last Denver weather was 300 feet with visibility one-half mile in heavy snow. Wind was northeast at 15 knots with gusts to 20," the copilot volunteered. "I know. I heard it." The clouds merged against the mountains above Golden. Boulder was in the clear. To the northeast, the stratus clouds were thick like the wool on the back of a Rambouillet buck before shearing. I dropped the nose and we moved over the red sandstone buildings of the University of Colorado. We headed southeast and picked up the Denver-Boulder turnpike. "We will fly the turnpike to the Broomfield turnoff, then east on Broomfield Road to Colorado Boulevard, then south to 26th Avenue, then east to Runway 8." The copilot, a San Francisco reserve, gave me a doubtful look. One doesn't scud-run to the end of the runway under a 300-foot ceiling in a big jet. Coming south on Colorado Boulevard, we were down to 100 feet above the highway. Lose it and I would have to pull up into the clouds and fly the gauges when I had no gauges. Hang onto it and I would get into Stapleton Field. I picked up the golf course and started a turn to the left. "Gear down and 30 degrees." The copilot moved a lever with a little wheel on it. He placed the flap lever in the 30-degree slot. I shoved the thrust levers forward. "Don't let me get less than 150 knots. I'm outside." I counted the avenues as they slid underneath. . .30th, 29th, and 28th. I remembered that there was neither a 31st nor a 27th. I picked up 26th. The snow was slanting out of the northeast. The poplar trees and power lines showed starkly through the storm. With electrical power gone, we had no windshield heat. Fortunately, the snow was not sticking. "Let me know when you see a school on your side and hack my time at five-second intervals from the east side of the school yard." Ten seconds. "There it is. The yard is full of kids. Starting time now!" Good boy. Smiley faced Holly. From the east side of the school yard, I counted Kearney, then Krameria, Leydon, Locust. Remember the double lane for Monaco Parkway. Then Magnolia, Niagara, Newport. Time the speed at 130 knots. Only eight blocks to the end of the runway. Oneida, Olive, Pontiac, Poplar. From Quebec to Syracuse, the cross streets disappear; figure eight seconds. Keep 26th Avenue under the right side of the nose. "Full flaps." Dead ahead, glowing dimly in the swirling snow, were the three green lights marking the east end of Runway 8. We crossed 20 feet above the center green light and touched down in a crab to the left. I aligned the nose to the runway with the right rudder, dropped the nose wheel, popped the speed brakes, and brought in reverse thrust. It took us 10 minutes to find the terminal in the swirling whiteout. We saw the dim, flashing red light atop the building indicating the field was closed to all traffic. A mechanic materialized out of the snow carrying two wands. He waved me into the gate. I set the parking brake. "We have ground power," the engineer advised. "Cut the engines." The bagpipe skirl of sound spiraled down to silence. "My hat is off to you, skipper. I don't know how you ever found this airport." "I used to fly for an ornery old chief pilot who made me learn the route," I replied as I hung up my headset and scratched the top of my head where it itched. Frank Crismon passed away at his home in Denver on 25 Jan 1990. Editor's note: Professionalism, readiness, and knowledge can never be replaced by all the electronic gadgets in the world. Whether you drive a truck or a C-17, nothing beats knowing your capabilities and those of your machine, and knowing where you are at all times. It's hard to come up with options if you don't know what's going on. Frank M. Crismon CAHS Honored in 1991 Click to view the LAUREATES album Frank Crismon was born in Alberta, Canada on June 8, 1903. Frank had his first flight in a Curtiss Oriole with an airmail pilot in 1919. Later he sold tickets for a barnstormer who flew an Eaglerock in Utah. While attending the University of Utah in the 1920's, he was a member of the ROTC, which led him to aviation cadet training at March Field, California, from which he graduated as an Army pilot in 1930. He soloed was in April 1929 in a Consolidated PT-3 trainer. Shortly thereafter he became a bomber pilot, flying under the direction of Major "Tooey" Spaatz. In 1933, after his military service, he was hired by Boeing Air Transport (BAT), a predecessor of United Airlines. He was assigned as the first instrument flying instructor at the Salt Lake City base. The approach to Salt Lake City, over the dangerous Wasatch Mountains, was a matter of considerable concern. As a remedy, Frank helped design and implement a new radio range monitoring procedure. By 1932, he had become rated as an ATR, and he had obtained a FAA examiner's license. In 1942, Frank was made chief pilot of the Rocky Mountain Division of United Airlines, a position he held until his retirement in 1963. He had under his direction, over 200 flying officers, all of whom were to be exposed to his high standards of training and operations. During his tenure, there were no accidents involving an instrument procedure or terrain. Frank was instrumental in United Airlines adopting the Jeppesen Airway Manual Services. During a particularly bad snowstorm, he used Christmas trees to outline a runway at Stapleton Airport. Realizing that something had to be done about snow removal, he led the fight for new and better snow removal equipment. After an aircraft accident, Frank helped bring state-of-the-art crash equipment to Stapleton. United Airlines named a DC-8 airliner for him at the end of his active service, a very rare occurrence. He was a strong supporter of the Colorado Air National Guard and the United pilots flying for that organization. For this support, he was made an honorary Colonel in the CANG and an honorary member of the Minutemen flight demonstration team. This pioneer airman flew every aircraft type used by United Airlines, from Boeing 40-Bs to Boeing 720s, without mishaps or accidents. At the time of his retirement, he had amassed over 20,000 flying hours and had flown Will Rogers, Presidents Hoover and Eisenhower, Mrs. Roosevelt, General MacArthur, and many others. In later years, he and Mrs. Crismon established a memorial scholarship fund at Western State College to honor their Navy pilot son, Scot, who was killed during a night carrier landing off the coast of Viet Nam. By 1981, more than 250 students had benefited from this fund. They also aided the funding of the "F. Scott Crismon Memorial Field" at Western State College, to aid the sports programs at this school.

Atlantic/Indian it does make you wonder about my grasp of geography apologies for the brain snap

Current theories require two separate Malasian military primary radars to ignore a large, high and fast aircraft coming in from the North West, ie out where Vietnam, the Koreas and China are. Even taking military incopetence as a given this seems a very low probabality. And current theories rely on a never before attempted track verification based on satelite handshaking protocols it does make one wonder if it ever made it into the South Atlantic at all Is it possible that looking so hard for the "pings" something else was interpreted as the ping signal? .

Dafydd did say "Here's my list: "I don't want open cockpits. "I don't want fabric covering. "I don't want an aircraft whose fatigue life is completely unknown. "I don't want a flimsy, "Reynolds Wrap" special, held together with pop rivets. "I don't want an aircraft whose GC limits and flight envelope limits are unknown. "I don't want an aircraft that is likely to overturn in an emergency landing, from which escape is then impossible. "I don't want an aircraft that has marginal stability in any normal flight condition; or that has poor control harmonisation. "I don't want an aircraft that is incapable of routinely operating from a croppie strip or a paddock. "I don't want a nosewheel aircraft that has either a small nosewheel or inadequate propeller clearance; I prefer taildraggers for those reasons. "I don't want a nosewheel aircraft whose crosswind capability is limited by "wheelbarrowing". Then modified the list by saying fabric is OK if hangarage is available, That has the Skyranger as one possible aircraft ticking all his boxes to which you can add a..rapid build kit b..easily repaired c..economical to buy and operate It ticks all my boxes Davidh

I've had my Gemini PFD since last June and love the display, have had no trouble centering the slip indicator and probably re center it during the run up no more than once every dozen or so flights I find the slip indicator easier to fly to and more responsive than the physical slip ball which is slower to respond I ordered a dedicated Garmin GPS receiver with the Genimi and it functions perfectly I have found dealing with their tech person Lucas easy, prompt and helpful I was concerend that with attitude, bank, rate one indicator, airspeed, GPS Ground speed, GPS track, vertical speed, skid ball all in the one small screen would be unworkable. Not so a fabulous instrument. One needs to be aware that although the unit looks very similar to a traditional gyro attitude instrument; it is actually displaying vector movements, ie instaneous vertical speed not nose attiture wrt the horizon. cons the airspeed reads a bit high i had serious RF interferrence when first installed, Trutrak suggested a capacitor plug which fixed the problem. Plug cost $8 but US supplier not Trutrak refused to use the US post and it cost me $60US in courier fees for a match box sized item DG numbers are small for older eyes Davidh

We went to Walmart and purchased a cheapy for less than $100 witn current maps and worked well