The numbers I quoted are from the Seneca II manual, and are fairly conservative since, for example, it's unlikely that you'd be at max gross at cruise altitude on the average trip. Nevertheless, it pays to view charted numbers with a healthy dose of skepticism: They're for a new airplane with tight engines and expert technique (we're all experts, right?
). I'm comfortable that the airplane's single engine performance would give me the breathing room I need in the circumstances I'm likely to face here. Of course the airplane has limitations. Sure, I'd like to have a Merlin 3B with radar, certified de-ice, and pressurization; I'd like to climb to 22K, cruise at 400 mph for 4 hours, and make my old Midwest stomping grounds in one hop. But I said this is the MINIMUM needed to turn hobby transportation into something I can count on -- and still afford.
Thus far, this thread has bent toward a discussion of risk management and it's relationship to reliable transportation. This must be one of the oldest, thorniest debate topics in aviation. Just what is the nature of acceptable and unacceptable risk? It's different for everybody -- just as experience, comfort level, and proficiency are different for everybody. I'm sure there are risks we would all agree are unacceptable (like the guy I once knew who used to sniff glue and then go out in a CE-150 and do low level acro -- even if it could be guaranteed that he'd always do it alone over open water, I'd still vote him "off the island" forever for the effect his notoriety has on the rest of us). And there are risks we'd all agree are acceptable (or else we wouldn't be doing this).
The devil is in the details, of course. For me, it begins with a simple question: Whatever happens, do I have an "out?" Is there somewhere else I can go -- something else I can do -- if things don't work out or go terribly wrong? If there isn't, you're entering a zone of unacceptable risk -- you're beginning to place reliability before safety in a way that may someday cost you both. Inevitably, there are times when you have no good "out." The place where I live and fly, for example, is surrounded by high, rocky terrain and big, hard trees. For a while on takeoff I have no good alternative if the engine fails -- something is going to get broken. But if I want to fly here, I am forced to trust my airplane -- at least for a while -- accept that risk, and do what I can to pass through that zone as quickly as possible. I am always looking for, and working toward my "out." I do this everywhere and everywhen. And I think that if you always keep an "out" in your back pocket, know where it is, and work to stay within its range, safety and reliability will stay in their proper relationship, and BOTH will improve.
ej