Max talks with Josh Harnagel, COO of Redbird Flight, about a practical use-case that matters to almost every instrument pilot: logging IFR instrument currency and staying proficient in an FAA-approved simulator. Josh explains why many pilots buy Redbird's FAA-approved tabletop devices specifically for currency—especially to knock out the holding requirement—and why he likes shooting an approach in the simulator before flying it in the airplane. Max shares why he does the same thing before recurrent training, because simulator reps surface the "gotchas" that can spike workload in real IFR—like autopilot behavior on LNAV+V.
Josh breaks down Redbird's product lineup, clarifies what's FAA approved versus "just a computer," and explains where Basic ATDs and Advanced ATDs fit in training. They also touch on Redbird GIFT (Guided Independent Flight Training), remote instruction possibilities, and why avionics emulation is hard (and expensive) to do with perfect fidelity.
Then the episode pivots to a Redbird factory tour: outbound shipping and crating, assembly workflow, fabrication of honeycomb aluminum shells, wiring harness and switch panel build, PCB soldering and parts inventory, completions/testing, and even the cooling/vent system inside the sim—ending with why engineering and the shop are co-located for faster iteration and better quality.
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An Epic E1000, N98FK, crashed near Steamboat Springs, Colorado during a night RNAV (GPS) approach. The lateral track was almost perfect, but the vertical profile was fatal: the airplane remained on an LNAV+V "advisory glide slope" and descended below the 9,100-foot MDA into terrain.
Max explains what Garmin calls Advisory Vertical Guidance, why LNAV+V can look nearly identical to an LPV on the PFD, and why it does not provide obstacle protection below minimums. He shows the airplane crossed the FAF MABKY and stepdown fix WDCHK essentially on altitude—then continued descending instead of leveling at MDA.
Max reviews the three requirements in 91.175(c) for descending below an MDA, explains why many autopilots will fly any coupled glidepath right through minimums unless you intervene, and decodes chart warnings like "Visual Segment – Obstacles" / "34:1 is not clear." He also shares his own simulator experience flying the RNAV (GPS) Z RWY 32 at KSBS and hitting the same mountain when the autopilot was coupled to the advisory glidepath.
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Max talks with Matt Bergwall, Executive Director of the Vision Jet Product Line at Cirrus, about the just-announced Cirrus SF50 G3 Vision Jet—and before that, he offers an unusually personal look at what the AOPA President's job actually requires.
Max opens by explaining that he interviewed for the AOPA President role twice and uses that experience to outline what makes the position difficult and consequential. In his view, the job is not simply "being the public face of GA." It demands relentless travel to connect with members, lawmakers, regulators, and stakeholders—while still maintaining a strong day-to-day presence at headquarters to lead a sizable staff. He also emphasizes the fundraising reality: membership dues matter, but major donors increasingly drive what's possible, especially as traditional advertising revenue has eroded across media. Max argues that regardless of opinions about leadership changes, AOPA's advocacy work and member services—like the hotline—can be meaningful to pilots, and he encourages continued support for the organization. He also describes the way top roles like this are typically filled: boards often rely on executive search firms and closed candidate pipelines rather than a standard "job posting" process.
Then the focus shifts to the Vision Jet. Matt explains the G3 Vision Jet changes through a pilot-centric lens: what's different in capability, how it affects workload, and what it feels like in real use. One headline upgrade is cabin practicality. Cirrus designed the G3 so six adults can fit comfortably, while still maintaining seven seat belts. That might sound like a simple seating tweak, but Matt describes it as a serious engineering effort that required deep iteration with mockups, real-world body sizes, and attention to the small geometry problems that make the third row either tolerable or miserable. The end goal was not only more capacity, but a better experience for passengers in the back—especially when the airplane is used as family transportation rather than a four-person luxury machine.
On the performance side, Matt notes that Cirrus increased the airplane's MMO by 0.01 Mach, which equates to roughly 7 knots of additional true airspeed in certain cruise conditions and can also help during descents and arrivals. He frames the gain as less about bragging rights and more about flow: small speed margins can matter when mixing with faster traffic in busy terminal environments. He also explains the "why" behind the change: rather than a dramatic redesign, the team "sharpened their pencils," did additional flight testing, and validated that the aircraft had enough performance and safety margin to raise the limit. Max asks whether that might also yield a slight range improvement, and Matt says it can—though it's hard to quantify cleanly—while still being a meaningful, felt benefit on colder days when the throttle might otherwise need to pull back.
A major avionics headline is CPDLC / ATC Datalink. Matt describes it as a system long familiar to airlines, increasingly available in U.S. centers and at many larger airports for text-based clearances. The practical advantage is removing the most error-prone part of IFR communication: copying down complex clearances and route changes while juggling frequency congestion. With datalink, pilots can receive clearances as text, review them at their own pace, and—in many cases—push the routing or frequency changes directly into the avionics instead of re-typing and re-verifying everything manually. In flight, the system can reduce "did ATC call me?" uncertainty: messages arrive with a clear alert and are hard to miss. Max and Matt also touch on D-ATIS and planning advantages, including how having information in text can reduce repeated listening and make it easier to configure the airplane early.
They also cover a string of real operational refinements that make the G3 feel more modern day-to-day: improved taxi situational awareness features, taxiway routing guidance, and more capable visual-approach tools that help pilots set up patterns beyond the common "straight-in" workflow. Inside the cabin, Matt describes seat mechanism improvements that make entry and adjustment easier and more intuitive, plus passenger comfort refinements aimed at making the airplane more usable across a wider range of missions.
The result is a G3 that's less about one giant breakthrough and more about a stack of changes that compound: a truer six-adult cabin, modest but useful speed flexibility, and datalink and avionics upgrades that reduce friction during the highest workload moments of an IFR trip. Max closes with the practical ownership layer—what this means for buyers thinking about price and programs—so listeners can translate "new features" into real-world value.
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Max talks with Rob Mark about the fatal crash of Cirrus SR22T N17DT near Shelbyville, Indiana, and why this accident is so instructive for any pilot who flies approaches at low altitude with high workload. The NTSB's probable cause centers on inadequate airspeed and an aerodynamic stall, but the real value is in the flight data that shows how the airplane got there: low power held for an extended period, repeated stall warnings, multiple ESP interventions, and flaps that ultimately remained retracted until impact.
This episode matters because it's rare to have this level of detail. The NTSB recovered onboard data that captures dozens of parameters multiple times per second—far more than you usually get from ADS-B alone. Max describes how the NTSB published extensive graphs and also released a spreadsheet of recorded parameters. The spreadsheet didn't include position data, so Max combined it with ADS-B track points and interpolated the missing locations to create a second-by-second reconstruction. The result is a cockpit-style view that shows airspeed, pitch attitude, power, flap position, stall warning activations, and ESP engagement together—so you can see the chain of events, not just the endpoint.
The key factual finding: the engine was operating normally. The "partial engine failure" theories that circulated right after the crash don't hold up against the final report and recorded parameters. Instead, power was pulled back to a very low setting—about 15%, roughly 10–11 inches of manifold pressure—and held there. That's close to a landing-power setting, which means airspeed and energy must be managed carefully to avoid drifting toward stall, especially if configuration changes.
The second key finding is configuration. The flap record shows the flaps briefly at about 50% and then transitioning to 0%. Later, the data shows the flaps again toggling, but ultimately the airplane ends up with flaps retracted and stays that way until the crash. That detail is not cosmetic—stall speed is strongly affected by flap setting. In a low-power approach, retracting flaps increases stall speed and requires a different pitch picture and energy plan. If the airplane is flown as if it has more lift available than it actually does, airspeed can silently bleed away.
As the airplane slowed, the recorded data shows repeated stall warning activations in the final minute, and ESP (Envelope Stability Protection) engaging multiple times. ESP is designed to help discourage pilots from exceeding the envelope by nudging pitch and roll back toward safer values, but it can't create airspeed or altitude. It's a guardrail, not an autopilot that can save a low-altitude slow-speed situation once the margin is gone. In the reconstruction, stall warnings and ESP engagement cluster around the periods when the airplane is slow, pitched up, and operating near the edge of the envelope.
Witness observations align with a low-altitude stall sequence. A driver on a nearby interstate described the airplane as very low, appearing to "hang," then making a sharp turn. The witness observed a wing drop and rapid rocking from one wing vertical to the other before the aircraft disappeared behind trees and a fireball was seen seconds later. The NTSB's recorded data similarly shows the airplane slowing near stall speed followed by a loss of control consistent with a stall at low altitude.
The practical lessons are direct and transferable to any airplane, not just a Cirrus. First, treat any stall warning on approach as a command—not a suggestion. You don't troubleshoot while the airplane is approaching the critical angle of attack. Your first move is to reduce angle of attack (unload) and regain airspeed. Second, make configuration errors harder to commit and easier to catch. Flap position is not a "set it and forget it" item when workload is high. Use callouts, verify indications, and confirm the pitch picture matches the configuration you think you have. Third, recognize that "low-power" plus "slow" plus "turning" is the classic trap. Bank increases stall speed, and when you're low, you don't have the altitude budget to recover from a stall break and wing drop.
Finally, this episode reinforces a mindset: the accident wasn't one bad second; it was a sequence of small choices and small drifts that added up to zero margin. The data shows multiple warning opportunities—stall horn and ESP events—before the final loss of control. The goal for listeners is not to judge the pilots. It's to build habits that make this chain harder to start, easier to detect, and easy to abandon early. When the airplane is telling you it's running out of margin, believe it—then reset the approach while you still have altitude to spare.
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Max talks with Rob Mark about a classic "simple mistake with big consequences" scenario: a pilot who possibly raised the landing gear handle instead of selecting flaps up during the landing roll in a Cirrus Vision Jet. The event looks minor on the surface—no injuries and the airplane stayed on the runway—but it exposes a human-factors trap that can bite any retractable-gear pilot, especially when you're trying to be quick and efficient right after touchdown.
The discussion centers on the NTSB's final report for a Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet that landed at Watsonville Municipal Airport (Watsonville, California) on August 9, 2024. The pilot reported a normal approach and landing. Before touchdown, he had the flaps set to 100% and saw three green landing gear indications. Touchdown itself was uneventful. But during the landing roll—right about when braking began—the nose landing gear collapsed.
Max and Rob walk through what the data showed. On short final, the airplane was properly configured: flaps at 100% and the landing gear down and locked. During rollout, both weight-on-wheels switches were briefly "unloaded," and the landing gear handle was raised and then lowered. That sequence unlocked the nose gear and allowed it to collapse. The main gear also unlocked, but it re-locked before collapsing. The probable cause boiled down to an inadvertent control selection: the pilot likely moved the gear handle instead of selecting the flap switch to 0%.
From there, they unpack why this kind of error is so believable. The flap selector switch sits below the landing gear handle, and many pilots develop a post-touchdown habit of "cleaning up" quickly. Some of that comes from short-field technique: retracting flaps can put more weight on the wheels, increase braking effectiveness, and reduce stopping distance. But the exact moment you're tempted to do it is also the moment you have the least spare attention. You're still fast, directional control still matters, braking is being modulated, and you're managing the transition from flight to rollout. Add fatigue, distraction, or a slightly different cockpit flow than usual, and a wrong-control grab becomes completely plausible.
A big takeaway is that landing isn't over at touchdown. Many pilots subconsciously relax as soon as the mains touch, as if the hard part is done. In reality, the landing roll is when you still have a lot of kinetic energy and limited margin for distraction. Looking down, changing configuration, or reaching for cockpit controls before you're stabilized is how small errors turn into big repair bills. Max and Rob emphasize that "post-landing tasks" are optional until the airplane is clearly under control and slowing.
So what should pilots do differently? Their answer is intentionally boring: slow the flow down. On most runways there is no operational need to rush flap retraction during rollout. Keep your eyes outside, keep the airplane tracking straight, and let speed decay. If you choose to retract flaps on rollout, treat it like a checklist item, not a reflex. Touch the correct control deliberately, verify what you're touching, and use a short verbal callout ("flaps zero") before you move it. Better yet, tie configuration changes to safer triggers—below taxi speed, after exiting the runway, or after stopping and running the after-landing checklist—so you're not doing "extra tasks" while still managing high speed and directional control.
They also discuss building habits that are resistant to error. If your technique is "as soon as I touch down, I do X," you're training your hands to move before your brain has finished verifying the right target. Replace that with a pause that forces confirmation, or a flow that keeps critical controls physically and mentally separated in time. The goal isn't to be fast; it's to be consistent and correct.
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