Returning to the restoration shop the next morning, we found that the other restorer had discovered a small area on the fuselage that would need to be repaired before priming. The section would be taped off and primer applied everywhere else. Once Uncle Paul welded the repair, the fresh primer would be painted over the fix to seal it.
Our project is my mother’s 1946 Aeronca 11AC Chief she brought home in pieces before my parents were together. Mama’s Chief is a project once again we are bringing back to flight.
Before any paint could be mixed, though, there was still a great deal of moving and preparation ahead. The next step was getting the Chief’s fuselage mounted and into position for primer.
The other restorer had located an old rotator in storage—one he used for smaller airplanes like Mama’s Chief—and offered it for our project. The plan was to mount the tail on a tall sawhorse while the rotator supported the front. That setup would allow the fuselage to be rotated easily for full access while priming and painting.
The airplane currently in the paint booth was much larger—a Gee Bee—and nearly complete by comparison. Sitting on its gear legs in front of the booth, Mama’s Chief looked so small next to it, yet so big in heart and history.
It’s humbling to think of the effort it took for Mom, her friends, and family, to bring this little airplane to life before—and here we are, traveling that same road again. The other restorer caught a few tears slipping down my cheek as I thought about all the people, knowledge, and care it takes to return her to flight.
Once the Chief was mounted—secured through the engine-mount holes to a plywood plate on the rotator—the restorer and the other restorer lifted the tail onto the sawhorse. Together, we all slid the fuselage into the paint booth and leveled it carefully.
That afternoon was spent prepping. While I vacuumed out the booth, the restorer used an air hose to blow out any remaining sand from the sandblasting process and wiped down every surface with paint cleaning solvent. What felt like an hour or two of setup stretched into nearly four, and as we wrapped up, the other restorer wisely mentioned the restorer would wait until the next morning to start painting.
Painting, he reminded me, takes more than just pulling the trigger on a spray gun—it’s mental focus and precision. Keeping the gun at a consistent distance from the surface, overlapping each pass evenly, and maintaining rhythm all affect how the final coat looks.
Before we closed up for the day, the restorer handed me a sticky tack cloth and asked me to wipe down the entire frame. “Make sure nothing was missed,” he said. The tack cloth removes any dirt or dust from handling, ensuring the primer will adhere properly. Once the surfaces are wiped, nothing can touch them again until paint is applied.
With extra lights added around the booth, everything was ready for morning. The restorer explained the next day’s plan: we’d mix the primer using the proper 2:1:1 ratio, have a good breakfast on the way to the shop, and take a break for lunch at the airport café when needed. Once mixed, the primer has a seven-hour window of use—so timing would matter.
My time in the paint booth would be limited while the restorer worked inside in full gear: respirator, coveralls, and spray gun in hand. The goal was simple but critical—to seal the freshly cleaned steel before it had any chance to rust.
There will still be repairs to make, but once that first layer of primer is on, Mama’s Chief will be protected and one big step closer to color and flight.
Next up: Painting Day—bringing Mama’s Chief one step closer to the sky.
Related posts:
Sandblasting and Shifting Plans
Restoring Mama’s Chief: Getting Ready for Paint