Narrative:

The plane had been purchased 'sight unseen' by a close friend. He had been looking for a plane for quite some time, and now needed someone to ferry it back to atlanta. I volunteered, content with the idea of burning someone else's aviation fuel. Before departing though, I wanted to perform a vigorous stern-to-stern preflight. I'd already found a couple inconsistencies in the logs, and the plane showed evidence of a lack of attention. There were also signs that the plane hadn't flown recently. I'd already dug out a 'dirt dauber' nest from the tank vent tube, and judging by the rock-hard nature of the mud, the nest had been there for quite some time. The mud was harder than the fillings in my teeth, and had completely clogged the vent tube. I wondered how long the previous owner had flown with the obstruction, or perhaps the plane just hadn't flown since the nest was constructed. Time to check the rest of the plane. The interior of the aircraft had a stale musty smell, not unlike that of a tomb. I opened the windows and continued my inspection. The radios seemed to operate properly, as they came to life when I flipped the switch. There was a comforting static hiss in the backgnd, leading me to believe that all was well. After the preflight, I searched around the airport for a phone to call flight service. The WX report that I had was several hours old, and a fresh briefing would increase my comfort level. Unfortunately, everything was locked tighter than a drum, and a phone could not be found. My alternate plan was to contact flight service after departure -- not exactly the best procedure, but better than nothing. I fired up the little engine and taxied out to the end of the runway. Everything appeared to be functioning correctly, so I gave her the gun and turned towards the south. After reaching cruising altitude, it was time to contact flight service. As I grasped the frequency selector on the radio, the plastic knob crumbled in my hand. Strange, I never had a radio do that to me before. With a little effort though, I was able to turn the brass stem to the appropriate frequency. I transmitted 3 or 4 times, but only received static in response. Perhaps I was too far out for duplex. I changed frequencys and tried the simplex frequencys. Again, all that I received was static. Maybe these yankee FSS boys aren't as good as our southern FSS boys. Time to quit fooling around with the FSS and contact the scranton TRSA to request flight following. Again, no response. I was receiving excellent static on all frequencys, but no voices, although I did notice the VOR needle beginning to come to life. This radio had suckered me long enough. Time to pull out the handheld. As I connected the antenna and entered the appropriate frequencys, I reached up to open the air vent. With all of the unplanned distrs popping up, the cockpit was beginning to get a little warm. I needed some fresh air. No sooner had I pulled open the vent tube than a swarm of mad hornets filled the cockpit. Apparently they had built a nest in the vent, and were mad at the world for their rude treatment. I was immediately stung in the face 5 times before realizing what had happened. I instantly opened both windows, screaming the whole time (my greatest fear is bees, and bee stings). I also shut the air vent. The blast of air from both windows quickly subdued the remaining hornets, and a couple mins later, the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving my hands weak and trembling. 'Allentown approach, this is small aircraft X,' I transmitted. 'Small aircraft X, this is allentown.' it was good to hear another human voice. I was beginning to calm down even further. 'Allentown, small aircraft X is en route from spring hill to frederick, md, would like to request flight following.' 'roger small aircraft X, have you filed a flight plan?' good grief, now I had to broadcast to the world my inability to use the telephone, and also the radio. How embarrassing! 'That's negative allentown, I was unable to reach flight service after departure.' I transmitted in my best airline captain's voice. 'Small aircraft X, are you instrument equipped?' the controller asked. Time to fess up, as I noticed the cloud holes below me beginning to fill up. 'Allentown, I'm transmitting on a handheld radio from a plane whose radios aren't working properly.' 'small aircraft X, the WX has changed since you last checked. Everything south of you is solid IFR.' the adrenaline pump turned back on again for the second time. 'Allentown, can you give me a vector to the closest VFR airport?' I transmitted. 'Stand by.' the min or so that it took for the controller to call back seemed like eternity, but finally returned with a vector. Controller remained on the frequency, sensing that I had real problems. He also contacted a handoff controller for a final vector into hazelton, PA. After safely landing at hazelton, I spent the next 2 days healing up and waiting for clearer WX.

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Original NASA ASRS Text

Title: HORNETS IN COCKPIT ACFT RADIO FAILURE VFR WX DETERIORATING TO IFR DIVERT TO VFR ARPT ATC FLT ASSIST.

Narrative: THE PLANE HAD BEEN PURCHASED 'SIGHT UNSEEN' BY A CLOSE FRIEND. HE HAD BEEN LOOKING FOR A PLANE FOR QUITE SOME TIME, AND NOW NEEDED SOMEONE TO FERRY IT BACK TO ATLANTA. I VOLUNTEERED, CONTENT WITH THE IDEA OF BURNING SOMEONE ELSE'S AVIATION FUEL. BEFORE DEPARTING THOUGH, I WANTED TO PERFORM A VIGOROUS STERN-TO-STERN PREFLT. I'D ALREADY FOUND A COUPLE INCONSISTENCIES IN THE LOGS, AND THE PLANE SHOWED EVIDENCE OF A LACK OF ATTN. THERE WERE ALSO SIGNS THAT THE PLANE HADN'T FLOWN RECENTLY. I'D ALREADY DUG OUT A 'DIRT DAUBER' NEST FROM THE TANK VENT TUBE, AND JUDGING BY THE ROCK-HARD NATURE OF THE MUD, THE NEST HAD BEEN THERE FOR QUITE SOME TIME. THE MUD WAS HARDER THAN THE FILLINGS IN MY TEETH, AND HAD COMPLETELY CLOGGED THE VENT TUBE. I WONDERED HOW LONG THE PREVIOUS OWNER HAD FLOWN WITH THE OBSTRUCTION, OR PERHAPS THE PLANE JUST HADN'T FLOWN SINCE THE NEST WAS CONSTRUCTED. TIME TO CHK THE REST OF THE PLANE. THE INTERIOR OF THE ACFT HAD A STALE MUSTY SMELL, NOT UNLIKE THAT OF A TOMB. I OPENED THE WINDOWS AND CONTINUED MY INSPECTION. THE RADIOS SEEMED TO OPERATE PROPERLY, AS THEY CAME TO LIFE WHEN I FLIPPED THE SWITCH. THERE WAS A COMFORTING STATIC HISS IN THE BACKGND, LEADING ME TO BELIEVE THAT ALL WAS WELL. AFTER THE PREFLT, I SEARCHED AROUND THE ARPT FOR A PHONE TO CALL FLT SVC. THE WX RPT THAT I HAD WAS SEVERAL HRS OLD, AND A FRESH BRIEFING WOULD INCREASE MY COMFORT LEVEL. UNFORTUNATELY, EVERYTHING WAS LOCKED TIGHTER THAN A DRUM, AND A PHONE COULD NOT BE FOUND. MY ALTERNATE PLAN WAS TO CONTACT FLT SVC AFTER DEP -- NOT EXACTLY THE BEST PROC, BUT BETTER THAN NOTHING. I FIRED UP THE LITTLE ENG AND TAXIED OUT TO THE END OF THE RWY. EVERYTHING APPEARED TO BE FUNCTIONING CORRECTLY, SO I GAVE HER THE GUN AND TURNED TOWARDS THE S. AFTER REACHING CRUISING ALT, IT WAS TIME TO CONTACT FLT SVC. AS I GRASPED THE FREQ SELECTOR ON THE RADIO, THE PLASTIC KNOB CRUMBLED IN MY HAND. STRANGE, I NEVER HAD A RADIO DO THAT TO ME BEFORE. WITH A LITTLE EFFORT THOUGH, I WAS ABLE TO TURN THE BRASS STEM TO THE APPROPRIATE FREQ. I XMITTED 3 OR 4 TIMES, BUT ONLY RECEIVED STATIC IN RESPONSE. PERHAPS I WAS TOO FAR OUT FOR DUPLEX. I CHANGED FREQS AND TRIED THE SIMPLEX FREQS. AGAIN, ALL THAT I RECEIVED WAS STATIC. MAYBE THESE YANKEE FSS BOYS AREN'T AS GOOD AS OUR SOUTHERN FSS BOYS. TIME TO QUIT FOOLING AROUND WITH THE FSS AND CONTACT THE SCRANTON TRSA TO REQUEST FLT FOLLOWING. AGAIN, NO RESPONSE. I WAS RECEIVING EXCELLENT STATIC ON ALL FREQS, BUT NO VOICES, ALTHOUGH I DID NOTICE THE VOR NEEDLE BEGINNING TO COME TO LIFE. THIS RADIO HAD SUCKERED ME LONG ENOUGH. TIME TO PULL OUT THE HANDHELD. AS I CONNECTED THE ANTENNA AND ENTERED THE APPROPRIATE FREQS, I REACHED UP TO OPEN THE AIR VENT. WITH ALL OF THE UNPLANNED DISTRS POPPING UP, THE COCKPIT WAS BEGINNING TO GET A LITTLE WARM. I NEEDED SOME FRESH AIR. NO SOONER HAD I PULLED OPEN THE VENT TUBE THAN A SWARM OF MAD HORNETS FILLED THE COCKPIT. APPARENTLY THEY HAD BUILT A NEST IN THE VENT, AND WERE MAD AT THE WORLD FOR THEIR RUDE TREATMENT. I WAS IMMEDIATELY STUNG IN THE FACE 5 TIMES BEFORE REALIZING WHAT HAD HAPPENED. I INSTANTLY OPENED BOTH WINDOWS, SCREAMING THE WHOLE TIME (MY GREATEST FEAR IS BEES, AND BEE STINGS). I ALSO SHUT THE AIR VENT. THE BLAST OF AIR FROM BOTH WINDOWS QUICKLY SUBDUED THE REMAINING HORNETS, AND A COUPLE MINS LATER, THE ADRENALINE BEGAN TO WEAR OFF, LEAVING MY HANDS WEAK AND TREMBLING. 'ALLENTOWN APCH, THIS IS SMA X,' I XMITTED. 'SMA X, THIS IS ALLENTOWN.' IT WAS GOOD TO HEAR ANOTHER HUMAN VOICE. I WAS BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN EVEN FURTHER. 'ALLENTOWN, SMA X IS ENRTE FROM SPRING HILL TO FREDERICK, MD, WOULD LIKE TO REQUEST FLT FOLLOWING.' 'ROGER SMA X, HAVE YOU FILED A FLT PLAN?' GOOD GRIEF, NOW I HAD TO BROADCAST TO THE WORLD MY INABILITY TO USE THE TELEPHONE, AND ALSO THE RADIO. HOW EMBARRASSING! 'THAT'S NEGATIVE ALLENTOWN, I WAS UNABLE TO REACH FLT SVC AFTER DEP.' I XMITTED IN MY BEST AIRLINE CAPT'S VOICE. 'SMA X, ARE YOU INST EQUIPPED?' THE CTLR ASKED. TIME TO FESS UP, AS I NOTICED THE CLOUD HOLES BELOW ME BEGINNING TO FILL UP. 'ALLENTOWN, I'M XMITTING ON A HANDHELD RADIO FROM A PLANE WHOSE RADIOS AREN'T WORKING PROPERLY.' 'SMA X, THE WX HAS CHANGED SINCE YOU LAST CHKED. EVERYTHING S OF YOU IS SOLID IFR.' THE ADRENALINE PUMP TURNED BACK ON AGAIN FOR THE SECOND TIME. 'ALLENTOWN, CAN YOU GIVE ME A VECTOR TO THE CLOSEST VFR ARPT?' I XMITTED. 'STAND BY.' THE MIN OR SO THAT IT TOOK FOR THE CTLR TO CALL BACK SEEMED LIKE ETERNITY, BUT FINALLY RETURNED WITH A VECTOR. CTLR REMAINED ON THE FREQ, SENSING THAT I HAD REAL PROBS. HE ALSO CONTACTED A HDOF CTLR FOR A FINAL VECTOR INTO HAZELTON, PA. AFTER SAFELY LNDG AT HAZELTON, I SPENT THE NEXT 2 DAYS HEALING UP AND WAITING FOR CLEARER WX.

Data retrieved from NASA's ASRS site as of July 2007 and automatically converted to unabbreviated mixed upper/lowercase text. This report is for informational purposes with no guarantee of accuracy. See NASA's ASRS site for official report.