I only fly the M600,the TBM900 is flown by pro pilots for my children and grandchildren.I had about 3500 hours and 1200 in PA46 piston airplanes so insurance was easy to get with a initial at Legacy for me.I think that the M600 is absolutely incredible with the Garmin G3000,I cannot tell you how much I love to fly it and the capabilities just build confidence.I have over 400 hours in the M600 now and I am very comfortable shooting a approach down to minimums.It is also a very comfortable airplane to hand fly.My airplane is always 8-12 KTS above book and sometimes 14 above book,with 260 gallons onboard (it will actually hold 280) the range gives you the comfort on mediocre weather days to divert almost anywhere.Turbines are so reliable I almost never think about a single engine failure.I also have auto throttle which is incredible on take off and every phase of flight,this is a very easy airplane to fly!!!
Thanks for the information. Is the TBM that much harder to fly, or was it just a question of insurance? Curious why you have both, as they seem fairly comparable although the TBM is slightly bigger.
It was a insurance situation and I have both because sometimes we need to have 2 aircraft,I can’t remember the last time I flew in the TBM.
I’m not a pilot, but just curious. As a complete novice, I thought the TBM & M600 were a similar plane and competing against each other - are there major differences in price, performance, size, etc … ? MDS
You are correct in that they are similar but the insurance underwriters do not see it that way,in aviation the insurance companies demand annual training and since I train in the M600 every year that is what I am insured to fly.I have a pro pilot that is named on my M600 but he has not been back to training for it in the last year so he is not qualified to fly the M600 even though he flies TBMs,Citations and King Airs.The insurance companies even require differential training for TBM850-900-930-940-960 even though they are basically all the same.
Insurance is definitely the big driver in all of this. The underwriters can actually be more reasonable than you might think if you have a good agent with decent relationships, but at a basic level they are going to require annual (or biannual, at a minimum) training in the type. Most of the time, they will let you go on the different variants if you are reasonably experienced.
A friend of mine, now passed away, used to spray in TBMs! He said that if the flying didn't kill you, the chemicals would... but he lived to, I think, 94, so there is that. He only had one engine failure, I believe... which was good because he was spraying timber.
One of the best TBM stories of all time, from another website... if you want to know how it ends, I might be willing to post the rest: Spring 1983 I had overstayed my visit to Australia but was still confident to get a seat on the Budworm Program. I needed the money as my many wives had shared in the booty from previous adventures. It was a six week project and big bucks. Spray pilots, some Swiss, Americans, Czechs, Poles, Aussies and South Africans to name a few. Frenchmen, too. They all came to fly the TBM Avenger, a 2000HP US Navy torpedo bomber. We sprayed the whole forest of New Brunswick in formations of three at about fifty feet. In the past there had been about thirty TBMs on the job, spread out on bases with usually nine on each base. The turns at the end of the spray line were like mini air shows and dangerous. Imagine pulling 17,000lbs around at 2 G's...that made the slipstream 34,000lbs....enter it and you were a smoking hole in the bush. I was number two to a tall, hawk faced, and old ex F104 Starfighter pilot who had an ego as big as his balls. Number three was Farrell and he was not happy with the maintenance. None of us were…hell...at a hundred bucks a trip...go for it. We were spraying in the hills to the North and Farrell’s plane was running rough. If one guy went back we all went back. "Shut up…quit whining" it was hinted to him. A hundred bucks. But he had had enough and quit, leaving his plane sitting on the ramp. Frank and I were elated as we could do faster turns with two airplanes and make good dough. The competition was brutal. When finished a spray line we would look over our shoulders for the other team, also calling off line and, without any calls, just push it up to METO. First team midfield on the carrier break had the right of way. We always competed for the last load of the day. We had to quit spraying around 9AM when the ground heated up. It was not uncommon to duke it out in the mess shack after flying. 4AM They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn. We would arise, not from sleep but from passing out from too many warm Moosehead beers and war stories. A coffee helped a little but then we went to the flight line in the dark, flashlights stabbing the dark as we did half-hearted walk-arounds. Then...there is NOTHING...I say…NOTHING more horny than nine Avengers running up in the dark…18,000 horsepower growling...orange flames licking the dawn, then turning blue as they warmed up. The first team would move into the pits to await the dawn, when the C172 pointer planes would take of and go to the block. We had two pointers per team. They navigated for us online and we simply lined them up as we were busy at 50 feet flying formation. DAWN We launch. Frank lines up with his 625 US gallons of poison and roars off, vortices trailing from the slots at the wingtips. He banks right and I am powering up already, full power...49"...52" if you need it through the gate...tail up six inches and a slight tug and she breaks free. Frank banks back for the joinup. Gear up... First power reduction...first power reduction...Holy Mackerel!! Throttle is jammed... Accelerating...I go scorching by Frank. "Slow down" he yells. "Can't…throttle's stuck" says I. 200kts... I turn on downwind... 250Kts. I look at the Dunphy Airstrip...3000 feet. No Way!
Okay, here you go.... "Go to Chatham" growls Frank calmly..."050 degrees roughly." I set a rough course...I can't remember what the final speed was because I was focused on the cylinder head temp along with the oil temp that had already hit redline. I trimmed nose down and left all the right rudder trim in... Getting hot in here. The big chill...it ran up my spine. "Climb up and jump" suggested another pilot. “I see some smoke." I looked at the 'chute...US Navy 1952...it read on the tag...think I'll stay here. I stayed low...if it caught fire I wanted to ditch...the landscape was flat but flashing by in a blur. The US Navy manual says you can use full power for two minutes...in wartime that is. It's now about five minutes. I'm on my own. She's screaming...was that a puff of smoke? I could see the base off in the distance. Frank had already looked up the frequency for me...I called. "Chatham Tower Zebra Two inbound...I have a problem." "Say your position" says the controller. "Desperate!" says I, "Crossing a power line NE bound" is all I knew. "What is your plan?"...they have every right to know...but I didn't have one. "Left base 250knots plus" I blurt out. I don't know what he said. I wasn't listening. I noticed a helicopter hovering at the other end of the runway. I roll onto base...miles out. 250 KTS ON FINAL The long runway sure was coming up fast. I had to decide where to cut the mixture. What happens WHEN I cut the mixture? This hadn't been done before. I see smoke on both sides of the cockpit...puffs. WOW! Look at all those fighter jets lined up, canopies open. NOW! I pulled the mixture.... a tongue of yellow flame appeared momentarily. Two thousand horsepower to zero...I wasn't prepared for what happened next. Remember, I had a whole bunch of rudder trim cranked in to counteract 2000 HP worth of torque. With a violent yaw, my helmet banged the side canopy...hard. My body slammed forward into my harness as the prop hissed loudly on its way to fine. She dived as the tremendous drag took effect. Gadzooks!! It was all those trims cranked in that took over. The silence was deafening. The airplane was askew but I sawed on the rudder to keep her straight The prop was disking…lots of drag so I had to push hard on the stick...airspeed decreasing RAPIDLY...full forward... I'm gonna be short...SHEEEE-It! I reach for the mixture...worth a try…slam it forward... ZERO HORSEPOWER TO 2000 HORSEPOWER! In a heartbeat! I wasn't prepared for what happened next. The noise… incredible. With a violent yaw the other way, my helmet bangs other side of canopy. YAW...you’ve never seen anything like it...Flames along with a whole side of the cockpit. She pitches up then BAMM! She came apart...GRIIIIND! The prop stops just as I flare over the numbers...NO LIE! I had flared high and she came down hard. I had 650US gallons of poison onboard. Even though I had MILES of runway ahead I tried jamming the brakes but my rubbery legs wouldn't work so it kept barreling down the runway. Fire trucks abreast...It stopped…the clicking sound could be heard over the noise of the approaching helicopter...it was cooling down. I grabbed my helmet and stepped out onto the wing just as everybody showed up, even a photographer. Well you all know how shy I am around cameras and microphones. A van load of excited young fighter pilots came and took me to the mess for coffee. They laughed and laughed…they had seen nothing like it in their lives. They joked that I was seen on radar...coming in low...and FAST. Was I some sort of target? Was this part of the NATO exercise that was in progress? Were they being attacked? Oh well.... I guessed that my season was on hold because another engine would have to be retrieved from the dump. A few days at least. Well that was it for a few days...or so I thought. I thought of Frank, last seen flying slowly around my plane at the Air force base when I was getting out onto the wing and then droning off in the direction of Dunphy. He had tried valiantly to keep up. He would be pissed off because it was not procedure to fly a one plane mission. They flew me back to Dunphy in a Bell206 and I got to retrace my flight path over trees, small lakes and meadows. I had decided to retain my load of chemical, remember. I got out of the helicopter with my helmet bag and maps poked into my flight suit, to be greeted by most of the base personnel. And Frank: in my freekin' face, gesturing wildly towards Farrell's plane sitting beside his still loaded TBM (remember the one that was running rough over the hills?). It was still cool enough to spray. Another hundred bucks...let’s go. RIP, Duke Elegant.
WE flew this thing many times in the air shows as you see it. A lot of people have tried to copy this act but nobody has come close.
Yeah, Those days are gone forever. It's hard to believe that it was 60 years ago. i don't think that I would be here now if I hadn't met my wife.
This A36 I bought from an insurance company and had it rebuilt. Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login Image Unavailable, Please Login
One of the first airplanes I ever owned. 1959 C180. Sometime in the early 80’s. Image Unavailable, Please Login
I have 9 hrs. in a A36 from in the nineties when I was working on my IFR, nice plane. the Lancair Legacy reminds me of the A36 when I used to point the nose down the speed really climbed...
What caused it to be owned by the insurance company? I don't see anything obvious. I see some great deals on minimal damage certified planes, but not being an A&P, I wonder what it really costs to repair stuff. I'm working on a Vans experimental now. I really like being able to work on it without constant A&P involvement.
Been restoring, refinishing this for 9 months now…. almost finished! New hot sections, new Garmin panel, new paint and interior, new windshields. Piaggio P180
Now that's a serious project a/c!!! Holy Moly! I photographed the original Piaggio mock-up many years ago when it made its first NBAA appearance in Dallas. Liked the design then and I like it now. Never really ages. And the sound is as distinctive as the a/c's looks. Good luck on this! Jay Miller
