The trouble started on the outbound day of a multi-day, multi-leg trip that took me well beyond the Mississippi River from the U.S. East Coast. Along the way, I’d picked up a passenger and we’d worked and played together for a few days, but now we were heading home.
The “trouble” was a rough-running magneto. It managed to get through pre-takeoff magneto checks, but was clearly running ragged. I’d had it looked at during an overnight, but there was nothing that facility could do except confirm there was a problem. Starting was fine, and so was most of its in-flight operation, but it was intermittent occasionally. It was the first thing on my maintenance agenda when I got back to the airplane’s base. But first I had to get there.
I had just dropped off my passenger and was about to take off on the last leg home. With bated breath, I ran up the rpm and switched mags. The first one I checked didn’t result in the expected rpm drop. Hmmm. When I switched to the problem child, the engine died. I switched back to both and tried again. Same result: The bad mag had finally given up.
What to do? It was late on a summer Sunday afternoon. The FBO was deserted, and there was no maintenance available. I was about 45 minutes from home; the last segment of the flight would be at night. What to do?
I took off and flew home on one mag.
I can’t really sum up why I did that, except I wanted to get home after a long few days on the road. I don’t remember if I even balanced my decision against the risk involved. I certainly rationalized it, but I can’t recall how.
I did pay attention to the nearest airports as I flew home, got high and stayed there as long as I could before starting the descent for home plate. The metabolic relief I felt on landing and putting the plane in the hangar told the tale of how stressed I was and how my subconscious self was rebelling against my stupidity.
I didn’t fly the airplane again until I had a mechanic hang two brand-new magnetos on the engine. At the first run-up after the work was complete, I was greeted with a tight pair of rpm drops, both well within spec.
Was it worth it? No. I learned that the added stress wasn’t worth the risk, and I’ll never do that again. Neither should you.
