Stjohn's RV-7

6 hours.
Yesterday revealed to me exactly why I’ve been able to get absolutely FA done lately. My shop is an ergonomically retarded, awkward hodgepodge of spaces where various things that have zero relevance to aircraft construction are leaned, stacked, and wedged. At first I thought just a cleaning was in order, but it went beyond that. When getting from once side of the shop to the other starts feeling like crossing a crowded bar with a drink in your hand, it’s time to take steps. To start with, I’m at an architectural disadvantage. The space itself isn’t conducive to maneuvering around a large central object while storing other large to medium size objects (tool chest, engine, compressor). Something is always in the way. So start from the top down: maximize the amount of continuous square footage, and minimize the travel distance for general operations. But something had to go. The kitchen range was removed and put in the little garage, next to the washer and dryer, leaving a hole perfectly sized for a Lycoming O-360 on an automotive stand. The bandsaw/grinder/vise bench went back to its location in the back where the sink used to be, and the rolling tool chest was put along the wall adjacent to the workbench. The giant stereo speakers (early 90’s vintage) went up in the overhead area where I used to store hinge stock and other long, thin parts, which moved to a longer, thinner part of the overhead area. The compressor went against the east wall, tucked in under the hardware drawer cases mounted on the wall. Everything was vacuumed and dusted, things were organized and put away. Just moving the tool chest near the workbench reduced the clutter, because things like changing drill bits meant that I could put things away as I was finished using them without walking around the airplane to the opposite side of the room. This process started yesterday and finished up this morning, which gave me enough time to finish the canopy frame. I painted the glare shield flat black (RustOleum barbecue paint) and the inner frame smoke gray. Not the same shade as the Stewart Battleship Gray on the interior, but the upholstery will cover most of that anyway. And to make matters more interesting, the Stewart paint on the longerons came off in vast swaths when I pulled the tape off today. Grr. So I’ll be repainting that. Fun. After painting the frame, I riveted on the stiffeners. Now I have to install the plexi to the frame and prep for fiberglass work. The end is in sight on the canopy. If I can keep from cracking the bastard, I’ll be a happy guy.

4 hours.
I suppose the price, a little blood and a bit of pain, isn’t too high for the completion of a couple of items which have been hanging over my head for a while. On Friday, my replacement canopy side skirts arrived, but I didn’t get going on them until Sunday, because I found myself in an intense and protracted battle with Windows 7 and my employer’s VPN server. I don’t understand why anything with the word “Windows” in it stretches time out like taffy and a simple task manages to eat up a day. The aircraft was a different matter, squatting out there on its sawhorses like a chrome toad, malice seething from every rivet. My primary concern was that my skills had degraded enough to the point where I would Go To The Bad Place, that is, crack the canopy through some kind of ineptitude, and I think the plane was just as apprehensive as I was. While I was waiting for my side skirts to come in, I had set to work on the canopy stiffeners. This task wasn’t exactly difficult, but it was no picnic either. Bending those things into the right shape and especially bending the edges of the lightening holes was not that much fun, and I’m really surprised I didn’t mangle them a lot more than I did. Right now, I’m going to take comfort in the fact that paint hides a lot.
But the skirts did come in, as well as my new, larger Weldon bits (which are the shizz for countersinking plexiglass), along with my screw dimple die set. Figuring out how to make the new skirts fit with the old holes worked my puzzler out a bit. On one side, I tried clamping the new skirt to the side rail and match drilling through the previously drilled holes. That worked, but what a pain in the arse. That was where I did my best to put a #40 drill through the first knuckle of my middle finger on my left hand. While the drill was spinning in the meat there, I felt an odd tingling, most likely from the drill vibrating the nerve. To call the sensation odd would be understating the facts. There was a bit of blood, but not enough to turn my little ship into a demonically sentient killing machine like in the Stephen King short story. The starboard side, I just used the old skirt as a drill guide on the new one. Much easier and worked perfectly, and with zero loss of bodily substance. I got the canopy screw holes done, screwed the whole skirt/canopy/rail sandwich together and it seems to work wonderfully. All that remains on the skirts is to drill, deburr, and dimple the holes where the temp screws were.
The other thing to consider is the splice plate between the canopy ribs at the aft end of the plexi. I’ll have to countersink and rivet as many of those holes as I can before I take the canopy off. I’ve got this thing fitting as well as it can, and there’s no way I’m going to take a chance on messing up the alignment of the holes in the canopy. But once that’s done, the plexi can come off and I can drill the stiffeners to the canopy skin, then I can mark the skirts using the side rails as a reference to mark the area that should be trimmed off the skirts. Or maybe I’ll just leave it. The stamping press at Van’s makes a much cleaner line than I could ever cut on my craptastic bandsaw. Once that happens, everything gets painted gray, and the stiffeners get riveted to the canopy skin. Then the canopy skin inside the plexi gets painted flat black. After all that paint, the canopy goes back on and the microballoons and resin get deployed on the front edge of the canopy.
See how much fun this is?

1 hours.
Got the side skirts drilled to the canopy frame. It’s nice to have a pure-metal session, no plexi, no fiberglass, no paint. Next step is backdrilling the holes through frame, plexi, and skirt so that the screws make a nice plexi sandwich. The only non-fun part is that one of my holes goes through a weld on the side rail, which will make it impossible to put a rivet there. So I have to burr away that weld enough to make the shop head sit flat. No big deal, but fiddly.
Once all this stuff is drilled, it’s deburr, dimple/countersink, then paint. In case you didn’t get it before, I hate paint.

4 hours.
We’ve not visited for a couple of months. This is what happens when you pack a lot of work, home improvement, and travel into what could be decent build time. Home improvement has this weird time dilation. Like near-C spaceflight, I suppose. A week-long project takes way longer when you can only work on weekends. but it remains in process for the entire time, so it’s like working on it for a month when it should take a few days. It’s still not done. I still have baseboards to put up in the bedroom. And another garden bed to build. But this weekend was pretty huge, because the tip-up portion of the canopy is drilled to the frame. Yes. Finally did it. I mustered up the courage to put drill to plexiglass. David came over and we drilled the canopy to the side rails and the F-631 ribs. Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, and I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the big bubble hinge up and down just like it’s going to when it’s done.

Canopy up!

Got the side skirts drilled too, but not to the frame yet. I still have deep-seated fears of cracking the plexi when backdrilling the screw holes, but I can use the plexi bit to find the position and finish drilling them out with the drill press.

7 hours.
Everybody told me the suckage truly begins at the canopy. This, boys and girls, is true. After some epic procrastination, I got back on the ball today with the canopy. First thing that needed to be done was a plan. Everybody says not to expect the final position of anything until the canopy frame is riveted and the struts are in. OK, fine. I primed the underside of the canopy skin along the rivet rows, with a light dusting everywhere else, as well as the canopy frame near all metal-to-metal contact points. Then I riveted the skin on. That one sentence sums up about fifteen types of hell, and some truly lip-smacking victories along the way. There are several rivets that do not lend themselves well to any of the bucking bars I have. They’re nested near intersections of welded parts, so getting at them was interesting. The fit of the skin to the frame around the lower sides isn’t great, and requires a lot of pushing and straining to get the dimples to seat in the countersinks properly. Honestly, at this point, I’d rather have the old Me-109 style canopy made of flat panes and angles. Screw the view.

This photo shows the canopy on the bench, which allowed me to do the bottom side rows withe squeezer. After that, It went back on and I redid all the rivets I’d screwed up earlier. Only about three or four, though, which isn’t bad considering the contortions I had to employ to get sight, gun and bar all in the same place at the same time.
But all the suckage gave back one good thing: The gap between the forward edge of the canopy skin and the trailing edge of the deck skin closed up to a livable 3/32″, which was nice. I thought I was going to have to plaster it over with ProSeal. It also reduced the classic ‘air scoops’ outboard of the hinges, but these are still there. with a combination of rubber seal and rolling the skin forward, I think I can make them go away completely.
Then it was time to do the nitrogen struts. These have a little spring-steel clip on each end that grab a ball inserted into the end mount. To get the strut installed, you have to disengage these clips. You have to be careful with these. If you take them all the way off, there’s a chance they’ll go pinging away into the shadows of the workshop, never to be found again, or worse, burying themselves in the skin of your forehead. Wear safety glasses any time you mess with spring-steel clips under tension. The hardpoints for the struts aren’t exactly easy, either, especially on the left side where getting big fingers in past the latch release mechanism damn near impossble. As it was, I misdrilled the left-side aft hardpoint, so it’s at a slight angle, but it’s within spec, and it does work. But the suck part is getting the washers and nuts on. Here’s how:
put something sticky on your fingertip. Stick the washer to it. Run the screws through the mount pieces, through the holes, and reach up in ther with your finger and slip the washer over the end of the screw. For the nut, put a piece of tape on one side of the box end of the wrench. Seat the nut in there so it sticks to the tape. Get that up in there and get it started, then tighten it down.

The other side was more cooperative. But after all that, I wanted to see it work. So I took out the top clecoes on the forward skin, clamped up the aft channels, and let it rip. Stupid, stupid man. Thanks to the struts and the riveted skin, the gap between the skins was no longer enough to clear during opening, so the canopy skin caught and bent itself. Struts work, though.
After that, I took the frame back off and cajoled the skin back into a rough semblance of its original shape along the front edge and filed off some more metal. It still catches, so I’ve got to keep working at it. But at this point, it’s good enough to finish the process of drilling holes in the plexiglass.

The canopy is back on, waiting for final trimming and edge processing, after which I’ll drill the holes in the WD-725 side rails and the aft channels. The end isn’t in sight, not by a long chalk.. There’s also the bondo-fest that’s necessary to blend the plexi into the skin, and of course, the filler I’ll need to deploy to further un-mangle the forward edge.

7 hours.
This is a combo entry, a process that started saturday and finished up sunday.
I finally got the frame lined up as well as I could, with full knowledge that it’s going to change, no matter what. Mainly I wanted to get everything clamped and locked before moving on to what has been built up to be the scariest part of the whole build: Cutting the canopy. Let me reassure you, it’s still scary. You hold in your hands the ability to fark up a $1200 part in less time than it takes to say ‘Oh sh–‘ and while you’re forming that curse, the Grand Ganyon has opened up longitudinally in the canopy, splitting it asunder in a nuclear winter of white plastic dust.
Fortunately, this did not happen. Me mate David came over to lend his critical eye, reputed thoroughness, and practical experience with plexiglass from his boyhood days working on signage at his Dad’s shop. So we measured, and marked, and taped, and checked, and checked, and read the plans, then measured again, and checked, then checked one more time.

until finally, generations of grizzled old homebuilders barked in my head, “Just grow a pair and cut the damned thing already.”
So we did.

Now, I didn’t actually cut the plastic at the angle the grinder’s at right now, I was just getting lined up. It’s pretty good that they give you a lot of extra plastic to practice on. Eventually we make some scrap and wound up with something vaguely canopy-shaped…

…And leaving a bunch of sharp, dangerous scrap plexi all over the floor.

“Nope, haven’t buggered it up yet.”

Through the sliding glass door at the vast mess. Even the lizardbrain responsible for autonomic functions remembered to cover all the exposed holes in the engine on its stand, but my conscious self didn’t get around to throwing a sheet over it until the following day. No harm, no foul, right?

Front’s trimmed, sides are trimmed back a bit, and it’s nearly time. By this time, we had decided to knock off, I think, and hit it the next day.
At this point, there’s some more measuring, puzzling, and visualizing, because we want to make damn sure we don’t lop off something that’s needed to actually hold the thing on there. So on Sunday we actually got round to it.

There it is. That strip of blue tape is the where the cut is going to happen. The arrows clearly mark which side of the tape to cut. We found out that I can make nice, straight cuts if I have the tape as a guide. The sharpie line isn’t as good for that, and this worked fine. Also written there are things like “Cut this side” and “Don’t F— The Goose!” I’ll let Dave explain that one. This tape line goes right down the middle of the cabin frame/roll bar. It’s actually on the plans and in the instructions, and it’s one of the few absolutes called out, unlike everything else at this point which is ‘Just kinda make it fit.’

This is the last time the canopy will be in once piece, other than the cut-off babyslicers all over the floor. Here, Dave’s clamping down some rails on either side to relieve the bubble’s tendency to spread outward. Behind his head, you can see the space heater going full tilt, keeping the shop at a plexi-comfortable 80 degrees.

Woot! There it is! The canopy is severed into two halves. So there you have it.. Steady hand, clean cut, no cracks. Phew! We did remember to break the edges, but they still need some more work.

OK, but how does it fit? Let’s find out.

Not bad. Nothing a little trimming and fudging won’t fix. Came damn close to trimming off too much on that left rear side though.
That was huge. Next comes all the fiddling and trimming to get it locked in, then the ugliness of drilling it to the canopy frame.

David came over today and we managed to mark the centerline on the canopy bubble. We dropped it on the plane, and realized that we were in no position to begin cutting anything until some more research was done. So now I’m scouring the net for tips and tricks.
BTW, this entry will grow as I find more things.
1: I’ve fitted eight canopies, and have it down now where I can get the job done in about 2 hours. My advice is don’t trim anything off the back until you are satisfied with the fit at the front and sides. The rear edge will come forward as you trim the front. -rocketbob on VAF.
2: Looks like the whole damn flange goes, up front there. http://www.mykitlog.com/users/display_log.php?user=hydroguy2&project=294&category=2793&log=61594&row=37
3: Just a hint for all of you who are starting to cut your canopies on the side x sides. Don’t follow Van’s instructions on the order of the cuts. Make the “big cut” BEFORE you trim the sides up to the lower edge of the side canopy rail. If you make the big cut first, you will have a lot more material to work with when fitting the windscreen. If you follow Van’s instructions, you essentially be forced into a position where you will not be able to bring the side of the windscreen down over the sides of the forward skin. In some cases, being able to do so will allow for more fitting options and lead to a better fit for the windscreen. Hope this helps. -alpinelakespilot2000 on VAF
4: Heat up the shop. 75 degrees.

2.5 hours.
Got the side rails riveted to the forward frame. Quit before clecoing the skin back on. The Big Cut is coming up, and I’m realizing that I don’t have the proper space for that operation. I don’t have a surface large enough to set the canopy on while I actually do the cutting, other than the floor in the guest house bedroom. I’m not stoked about that, but I can make it work. No pics, because today’s work wasn’t that interesting.

2 hours.
Most of the time was spent cleaning the shop, after I drilled the WD-725’s to the forward frame and the aft channels, but what I really want to show off is this:

Canopy down.

Canopy Up!
Still clecoed, of course, but I took the opportunity to thoroughly clean the shop. I policed up all the clecoes that had rolled under the furniture, vacuumed behind everything, emptied the trash, and sorted out a couple of the messier tool drawers in the toolbox. I vacuumed out the plane and went over the shop with the vacuum again. The goal was to hav the workbench completely clear, because the next fun thing that happens is the Big Cut!

4 hours.
Today I fiddled, tweaked, clamped, nudged, pushed, and wiggled the canopy frame for what seemed like forever, until I was finally ready to drill the forward splice plates. Basically, what needs to be done is the canopy frame has to be put in place using spacers and clamps for alignment, then it gets match-drilled at a few connecting points. The side rails have to be made to be flush with the fuselage side skin, less the thickness of the canopy sides. Now, you can tweak and wiggle all you want, the alignment still going to change when everything rivets up. If you cast the right bones and sacrifice the proper breed of chicken, everything just works when it comes time for final riveting. I’m beginning to see the method to the madness now, but the instructions still suck. For instance, here’s a shot of the whole biz, fit up and clamped down:

All the alignments are good, all the clearances are tested, all the bits line up like they’re supposed to. Now, here’s the part that burns my ass: After you’ve painstakingly fit all this up, they have you take it all apart so you can drill the aft hole pattern on the attachment points of the side rails. WTF?

Here are the instructions. Those scraggly black arrows I’ve drawn denote where these two steps, drilling the splice plates and the WD-725 side rails, SHOULD go. Maybe this is a test. Read, understand, prioritize. I guess I failed this one. I’d have preferred to drill these parts with their arbitrary hole pattern before I did all the fitting and tweaking. The canopy frame process is full of crap like this.

Splice plates, drilled and ready to go.

And after a bunch more checking, fitting, tweaking, and locking down, here’s the left splice plate, drilled to the canopy frame sections. It’s worth noting that you have to peel the skin back so you don’t drill through it Fortunately, I had a drill stop and good access.

Slightly wider shot. This is all going to come off in a bit.

Right side done the same way.
I’m not drilling the aft of the rails to the C-631 channels yet. Those are the c-channels that follow the line of the roll bar. Here, I’m guessing the drilling isn’t done until there’s a lot more fitment, probably involving the canopy itself. Next step is to deburr, countersink, and rivet the side rails to the forward frame. After that, look out, because it’s time to measure and cut the canopy itself. Yeah, that’s freakin’ scary right there. One wrong move and I turn on the tap to the tune of $1200.