January 10, 2025

By Jason McDowell

A contributor for Flying Magazine and other publications, Jason McDowell is renowned in the aviation industry for his expertise in all things planes — especially his 1953 Cessna 170B. Nearly 130,000 accounts follow his Instagram page, @cessnateur.

I realized long ago that the part of my 1953 Cessna 170B most in need of improvement sits in the left seat. New to tailwheel flying when I bought it, our time together has been defined by the resurrection of rusty knowledge and by clumsy landings. Regarding flying skills, I work in mediocrity as other artists work in oils or clays.

So it was with a certain degree of shame that I began looking into a panel upgrade. As far as I could tell, my dated panel was not the element holding me back. For my fair-weather jaunts into tranquil grass strips nestled among the rolling hills of rural Wisconsin, it seemed to function just fine. How could a simple, VFR-only pilot like me benefit from a complete panel overhaul?

To be fair, my existing panel did resemble the conn of a 1940s-era submarine. It had an individual physical gauge for each engine parameter, and many of those gauges were scattered on the far end of the cabin, well outside my field of vision. An episode of Seinfeld could have started playing on the oil pressure gauge, and it would likely have been miles before I ever took notice.

Close Call Further Highlights Need for Upgrade

The original panel as shown in McDowell’s Cessna 170B cockpit was functional but dated — with key information scattered in random areas. Photo: Jim Stevenson

As it happened, my first lesson in the airplane highlighted this concern. As I was demonstrating slow flight, practicing some stalls and learning the airplane, I was fully focused on the actual flying. Fortunately, my instructor glanced at the cylinder head temperature (CHT) readout and questioned whether 550 degrees was a normal reading. Thinking back, it’s chilling to consider how long it would’ve taken me to notice it flying solo.

As far as I knew, 550 degrees was not a normal CHT, and I vaguely recalled reading that it was, in fact, 25 degrees beyond the uppermost limit on my engine. An immediate power reduction and quick descent took us into a nearby private grass strip, where we discovered I had left the cowl plug in place prior to takeoff. Fabricated from scratch by the previous owner, the cowl plug was completely invisible from inside the cockpit, and an interrupted preflight inspection provided the last link in a chain of unfortunate events.

Several months and a top overhaul later, I was back in the air and far more attentive to my engine’s health. I extended my scan to all parts of the panel and found myself wishing for more comprehensive engine information. I didn’t like only knowing the CHT of one cylinder, and I didn’t like the vague data that was presented to me by the other antiquated gauges.

Could this top overhaul have been avoided with a more effective presentation of critical engine information? Looking back, it’s very likely. Photo: Jason McDowell

When to Refuel? That Used to Be the Question.

I was also growing tired of calculating my fuel level by flight time and playing it safe by refueling well before it was necessary. It would be nice, I reflected, to know my fuel burn, and it would be especially helpful to have a more reliable indication of the fuel quantity on board. This is when the Garmin GI 275 Engine Indication System (EIS) caught my eye.

The GI 275 EIS appeared to compile all the data I wanted into an intuitive, easy-to-read display. Unlike my friend’s engine monitor from a competing manufacturer, it wasn’t necessary to hold one button while cycling through numbers on another. I discovered that the GI 275 had an interface that was easy to use. Best of all, more than one parameter is displayed at any given time. If you should inadvertently exceed one, it turns bright red, drawing immediate attention to the issue.

I dug further into my panel upgrade research with the ferocity of Ralphie checking the mailbox for his Little Orphan Annie secret decoder ring. Going down the list of functions provided by the GI 275 EIS, I referred to a photo of my panel and began placing an X over each physical gauge it would eliminate. Before long, half the panel was covered in Xs, and I had determined that a single GI 275 EIS could eliminate no fewer than nine individual gauges on my panel.

Not only would all that data be compiled into an intuitive display, but it would also bring that information into my immediate field of vision. Combined with the provided visual alerts, it would make it far more likely that I’d notice a concerning issue well before it evolved into a full-blown problem. That, I decided, would equate to some serious peace of mind.

A Clumsy Vacuum Pump