See I can see why it could work to pull the flaps up in flare in something like a piper with the mechanical bar that you can slap the flaps all the way up lickety split, but doing so in a PC12, that takes about 20 seconds to go from full to zero, really isn’t going to help you stop short. For that 6-7 seconds that they’re going from 40 to 15, you’re not really shedding much in the way of lift, but you are shedding a whole lot of drag. The loss of drag without an appreciable lift change for that much time is not doing you any favors.
Once upon a time, there was an old short-field, grass-strip, country-captain who found he could stop his 182 a
leeetle bit shorter if he got more weight on his wheels by raising his flaps just after touchdown.
One day, the country captain told his story to one of his airline pilot friends who was named Propilot. And, as so often happens to the listeners of fairy tales, Propilot didn't really think the tale through very well.
But... it
was a good story. And as good stories are so often wont to do, this story made a deep impression on Propilot's sub-consciousness. It spoke to him about something loved and lost far back in his hopeful youth. Plus, it was quaint tale, delivered with the economic elegance of the rustic raconteur. Good for bar banter. Much more compelling than tales of Tuesday's arrivals at Atlanta.
But, Propilot was troubled. A deep, yet vague sense of hollowness permeated his soul. His industry was a mess. His life was empty. His
third wife had just sued him for alimony a
second time. He
thought he had some kids in Singapore, but it was murky recollection, more like a dream than a memory.
Propilot's therapist told him that the way to find meaning is to give back.
Propilot resolved himself.
That's what he would do! He would give back.
So, the very next time Propilot attended the local airport day celebration, he endeavored to do the right thing. But he a was shy fellow, loath to talk about himself. Thankfully, airport day served free beer. Propilot, like his colleagues, drank a handsome quantity. Thereby, he grew increasingly loquacious. Now, finally, he could reach out and give back to others.
As often happens in fairy tales, it was at j
ust that moment that a group of young student pilots happened by. Propilot held court. Propilot regaled the somewhat stunnded youths with the exciting tales of super-short grass landings made by his old mountain dwelling friend. He explained, in great yet vaguely recalled detail what he described as 'le technique du flap'. He explained, "that's French". He explained, "That makes sense because lots of stuff in aviation is French, like 'empenage' and 'la chatte'."
And thus it was that Propilot felt good about himself. He went back to fly the Tuesday Atlanta/Newark run with renewed vigor and a spring in his step.
The students, honored by the attention of one so revered and experienced as Propilot, remembered the tale he had told, mostly...maybe embellished a little here and there. They took it with them into their future endeavors and spread it widely throughout their professional networks.
And the entire aviation industry lived happily ever after.
The end.