The Internet is a funny place, especially if you’ve grown up in the age of Google. Why, you ask? Because my Gmail account, which I’ve had since they were in beta, holds records of most of the various misadventures that have occurred in my life. One of them a perfect account of how we ended up looking at a “nearby” Q-2 in the first place, in every exact detail we would have otherwise forgotten.
Before delving into the tragic story of the Atlanta Quickie however, I suppose it would be pertinent to explain why we were searching for a Q2 to begin with. There are other planes that fit our mission profile, after all. We considered a KR2, a Cardinal, and a myriad of other aircraft. Really, the reason we decided on this particular type of plane came down to four different factors:
- Affordable purchase price. We’re both students (masters’ and bachelors’ respectively), and our budget was a major determining factor in what we would ultimately end up buying. For all of its idiosyncrasies, the price is certainly right on a Quickie.
- Affordable up-keep. It wouldn’t do us any good to own a plane if we couldn’t afford to fly, maintain, and house it properly. As an A&P, I’m confident handling the whole ‘maintenance’ bit, but that still leaves the cost of parts. And unfortunately, that can come to a very hefty bill on a certified aircraft like a Cessna. With an experimental like the Q-2, the list of suitable parts becomes much wider. Also unlike Cessnas, Quickies are remarkably efficient little planes when it comes to fuel. And finally, with a Q-2 we have the option to keep it at home for the low low price of free (although that’s not even close to an ideal situation).
- Experimental status. I’ve always been a bit of a tinkerer, which probably explains how I wound up as an engineer. A homebuilt is eligible for “builder modifications” which allows us to make changes to the aircraft as we see fit (though the intent is to keep those very limited in scope). Completing a homebuilt is also a requirement for becoming an EAA Technical Counselor, which has been a goal of mine for some time, and while it’s true that we initially started our search looking for a completed build, having my name on the data plate would help towards that end. Hard to advise somebody on their build without having completed one of your own, after all.
- Meg likes them. A lot.
The Long EZs were out of our budget, so she had to settle for second best, I suppose. Poor thing!
All joking aside though, this was not an insignificant part of our decision process. Whatever we ended up with, it would be a lengthy, expensive, and at times immensely frustrating journey. The benefit of having your partner on board from the word ‘go’ (willingly!) cannot be overstated. (There’s also a funny story coming up soon about THAT particular topic!)
And so the search began. Almost immediately, one odd-ball listing jumped out at us. The first sign of weirdness was the fact that it was found on Craigslist, where no respectable plane should ever be found. Our conversation about this potential buy already had a whiff of…something. Well, see for yourself:
If I sounded at all apprehensive, it’s because I absolutely was. Secondhand homebuilts can be a wonderful thing. They can also be impending disasters wrapped in pretty skins, and this thing had ‘disaster’ written all over it. I already knew what was most likely waiting for us in Georgia. But we were free for the weekend, and Meg wanted to go. If nothing else, I could practice my aircraft pre-purchase inspection skills. So we brushed up on some reading material on the subject in order to prepare for our trip:
Armed with a little bit of knowledge and high hopes, we set a date to go look at our first potential Q-2 purchase. The results were, shall we say, less than encouraging…
Spoiler alert: algae growing in a puddle of standing water is NOT something you want to find inside an airplane.
I could go on for days about the sad hilarity that N433BZ provided, from the complete lack of paperwork, possibly defunct engine, “missing” bill of sale connecting the current owners to the builder, or the fact that it’d been abandoned to the outdoor elements for over ten years…but I think I’ll just let the picture speak for me instead. For all the gruesome details, you can peruse the album on Quickheads. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Needless to say, with a $10,000 asking price, no paperwork, and a story with more holes in it than Swiss cheese, we passed on the unfortunate derelict that was Bravo Zulu. Maybe it ended its days lucky enough to serve as a pole model somewhere…but my gut says ‘probably not.’
Q+2 