From kits to the clouds

A Tampa man helps folks get their wings. Lots of small aircraft are built by their owners, and when they get stuck in the process, they come to this expert for advice.

By LANE DeGREGORY

© St. Petersburg Times, published April 13, 2001

[Times photos: Bill Serne] Russell Lepre looks over one of the Europa planes he helps builders construct.

SEFFNER -- Russell Lepre stood beside the runway at Lakeland Airport, staring at a small white plane named "Jumby." The plane was a new two-seater single-prop, the size of a pickup truck. Beautiful.

But would it fly?

The engine coughed and caught. The propellor whirred. Jumby started to roll toward the sun.

Its pilot was testing it before the annual Sun 'n Fun festival, which is drawing more than 670,000 aviation enthusiasts to Central Florida this week.

Now the little plane was taxiing down the runway, picking up speed. Suddenly, about halfway down the blacktop, its nose tipped to take off. Its wheel leaped off the ground.

Lepre had helped build this plane from four crates of parts, with a 3-inch binder of instructions. He'd spent 21/2 years cutting fiberglass and sanding wing pieces and stabilizing the fuselage. He'd triple-inspected every inch, from landing gear to tail flaps. A man who had become his friend was at the controls.

He was sure everything was all right.

He felt like throwing up.

Why him?

When friends told him he could do it, Lepre wasn't so sure. Build an airplane? A real airplane? One somebody would be flying in?

"It's just a big model," they said. "You've built plenty of models."

He had been making models in his Tampa garage for more than a decade. Briefcase-size fliers that looped and rolled with remote controls, competition stunt planes that soared above treetops. Plus full-size planes that stayed in place: a replica of Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis for the Fantasy of Flight museum in Polk City, a copy of Jimmy Buffett's seaplane for a sports bar in Lutz. Plenty of toy planes that flew; plenty of big planes that didn't.

But now his friends were trying to talk him into building a big plane that would fly. Lives would be at stake.

"No," said Lepre.

"You can do this," they insisted. "Read the instructions." One man at the airport even bought the $55,000 kit, told Lepre he'd pay him to help.

So Lepre spent a week reading the detailed assembly procedures, studying the intricate diagrams, thinking things through. "I'm no pilot," he finally decided.

"But I do know planes."

Lepre, in the background, with one of the unfinished Europa planes he helps others build, gives some tips to Jerry Hope, left, and Klaus Assion. Behind Lepre are other planes at various stages of completion.

Soaring business

He had been a public relations worker for Busch Gardens, a television and video producer in Tampa, a caterer. He'd always been fascinated by flying machines. He'd been making models since kindergarten.

When he stumbled into building real ones, he was 40. His Flight Crafters business is now full time and will be 4 years old this summer. He has never flown a plane himself, never really wanted to get his pilot's license.

"It's just the mechanical parts of it I enjoy," he said. "The idea I can actually build something that flies."

At first, he worked in his garage -- alongside all the model parts. Then, word got out and other pilots started showing up with their unfinished projects. Lepre ran out of room.

He rented an old haybarn on a rural road east of Tampa, surrounded by cows and ostriches and pygmy goats. He turned the space into a hangar, added air conditioning and heat, tiled half the floor black and white. He hung bright fluorescent lights, brought in a refrigerator and CD player. In August, he added a partner: former Northwest Airlines pilot Bob Berube, who has 20 years' experience building kit planes.

Lepre and Berube charge $30 a day to use their shop and special tools, another $35 an hour for consulting. Some pilots only want help adjusting a wing or wiring the instruments; others have paid Lepre more than $30,000 to help put together a whole plane. He has worked on 24 aircraft and has 10 in various stages around the shop.

He does everything except upholster the seats.

Jumbo shrimp

Europa XS planes can fly faster than 200 mph, travel more than 700 miles at a time, do all kinds of tricks and climb to altitudes of 25,000 feet. They're so small they can be towed down the highway, stored in a standard garage. They run on unleaded gasoline. They're about half the price of some ready-made planes -- cheaper even after paying for Lepre's expertise.

They come from a manufacturer in Lakeland and from outlets in Australia, England, France, Germany and the Czech Republic. There are 46 Europas flying around the world, 173 being built, two other builder consultants in the United States. Flight Crafters is the only one east of the Mississippi River. Lepre has helped pilots from Alaska to Ohio and all over Florida.

According to the Experimental Aircraft Association, one of every five private planes flying in the United States was constructed from a kit. The homebuilts are just as safe and sturdy as factory-assembled Cessnas, EAA officials say. But the dangers of flying small planes are still abundant, no matter who puts the craft together.

Almost every year, someone dies or gets seriously injured at Sun 'n Fun, as Lakeland's little airport becomes the country's busiest -- for one week. Last year, a gyrocopter crashed, killing the pilot. On Monday, an ultralight pilot crashed and died at the airshow.

Small plane enthusiasts insist the thrills outweigh the risks. And many want to help build their own aircraft so they'll have more control over the construction process and safety issues.

Bruce Armstrong is a 58-year-old Punta Gorda resident who had always wanted to build his own airplane. He flew for Northwest Airlines for more than a decade, while his wife, Suzy, worked as a flight attendant. Jumby was to be their dream plane. The name is a diminutive version of Jumbo, because the couple worked on jumbo jets. The 747s they ran for Northwest carried 403 passengers and weighed 883,000 pounds. Jumby can carry only two people and weighs 880 pounds. The 747's nose gear tire is taller then their new plane.

"When I retired and finally had the time, I knew I wanted a Europa," Bruce Armstrong said. "But I bit off way more than I could chew."

"We got all these huge boxes of blue foam and fiberglass and all this goop we were supposed to mix it with," Suzy Armstrong said. "We had to have help. Without Russell and Bob, we would have been working on this thing for another three years -- and the plane probably wouldn't be half as safe."

Lepre and his partner work side by side with the pilots, teaching and constructing, refitting and rethinking. The Federal Aviation Administration requires the pilots to build 51 percent of their own kit planes.

That way Lepre can't be held liable if something goes wrong.

Fly away home

Last week, as Jumby's white tail got smaller and disappeared into a cloud, Lepre stood staring at the cottony vapor trails. Then, slowly, he turned his back toward the sun.

The pilot was supposed to circle the airport. He'd said he would be back soon. Lepre waited beside the runway, watching and wondering, fretting and hoping, trying to convince himself everything would be okay.

He hasn't lost one yet, he said, knocking on a wooden tail template for luck.

"But it's still nerve-wracking. I'm like a mother bird, kind of, pushing the baby out of her nest, knowing it can fly. But still wanting to make sure."

Building an airplane isn't all that difficult really, Lepre swears. The hardest part, he says, is persuading the pilots' spouses that it's worth all that time and money and energy. Many a kit winds up half-done in the garage because a wife wants her recently retired husband around the house. Lepre helps speed up the process, tries to involve the wives. (Only one American woman has built a Europa.) The construction is time-consuming, tedious, challenging.

But an airplane isn't an airplane until it takes off.

"And then it makes me sick," Lepre said. "It's an intense experience."

About 20 minutes later, Lepre heard a faint hum. Then he saw the white tip of Jumby's nose, coming toward him. "Wow!" he said to himself, running and smiling and waving at the pilot.

"It flew -- it really flew."

Finally, his stomach started to settle.

Lane DeGregory can be reached at degregory@sptimes.com.

IF YOU GO

Sun 'n Fun, a festival of experimental aircraft drawing planes from 90 countries, runs through Saturday at the Lakeland Linder Regional Airport, on Medulla Road. Hours are 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Admission includes access to 450 exhibits, workshops, a museum and airshow; cost is $25 per adult per day and $10 for children ages 14 to 17. Children under 14 are free. For information, call (863) 644-2431 or visit http://www.sun-n-fun.com.

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