The warm weather between Christmas and New Year’s offered the perfect opportunity for some much-needed altitude therapy.
Making time to get in the air when circumstances allow isn’t just about staying proficient but reminding ourselves why we are caretakers of these aircraft.
Flying is also a ton of fun!
While I’d hoped for a Christmas Day flight, the weather had other plans.
We certainly were not alone in finding the time to get away, a WW-I era Nieuport replica stopped by for a visit while we were taxiing out.
Last month, we retrieved my beloved uncle’s toolbox from Chicago, cleaned it up, and waited for better weather to move it to the hangar housing the Cub and Chief.
The same warm weather that gave us our altitude fix made it possible to move the toolbox across the ramp after we finished wiping down the Chief.
It seems fitting that his tool box is now with the airplane he told me stories of as a child.
Clad in disposable gloves, the restorer meticulously cleaned the Chief’s metal surfaces with mineral spirits, and I followed behind, wiping off the residue. This process allowed the restorer to “see” the structure with his fingertips, more closely inspecting only visually and identifying areas that needed closer attention by the welder.
Wiping down the metal structure, aside from removing dirt highlights areas that have imperfections like kinks or surface rust.
One area around the right main gear attachment revealed more repairs than initially noted. While the work followed FAA-approved repair guidelines (AC 43.13), the execution left the restorer muttering about a follow-up conversation with the welder.
This area, along with the tail, has become a priority for further attention.
The Chief’s wood and metal construction involves wood stringers attached to the metal fuselage, creating the airplane’s shape and adding secondary structure.
The restorer explained how stringers are fastened to metal clips on the structure, with additional forms attached to those.
While I understand what a completed Chief looks like, I struggled to visualize the transition from our project’s current state to the finished product.
Fortunately, one of our Aeronca friends stopped by after we finished cleaning the Chief. He mentioned our other Aeronca friend had recently brought home a 1946 Chief which was sitting uncovered in their hangar.
If we needed reference points, we were welcome to study it.
Later that day, we visited the hangar. Flashlight in hand, our friend showed me the “naked” Chief, and suddenly, everything clicked.
Seeing the wood structure attached to the metal fuselage clarified what the restorer had described. The metal supports within the cabin also became clear, as they’ll need priming and painting before assembly.
While the Chief’s fuselage is with the welder, the restorer is turning his attention to the wood structure by looking for patterns and pieces. He has also mentioned beginning to work on the wings will be added into the schedule as the project progresses. Once the welder finishes, the fuselage will be sandblasted, before being primed, and painted.
The restorer prefers to start with the fuselage, as it’s the fussiest part of the airplane. Uncle Paul, however, favors beginning with the wings. Regardless of the starting point, both have a track record of completing stunning restorations.
This restoration journey has been enlightening, especially since I haven’t spent much time around fabric airplanes outside of our Cub. Sis, our Bonanza, is metal, so this project offers a fresh perspective on combining materials to bring an aircraft back to life.
As the process unfolds, each step—whether it’s wiping down surfaces, studying reference aircraft, or planning the next stage—brings us closer to breathing new life into mom’s Chief. It’s a rewarding journey, blending family history, craftsmanship, and passion for aviation.
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