From the Back Seat...

Aircraft Flying Tool Kits -

April 6, 2026

To those who know me, this will come as no surprise: I suffer from a few anxieties. Not the dramatic kind, but the quiet, persistent sort that show up at inconvenient times. A slice of cake flipping upside down onto its icing while being served. Running late to church. Tools not being placed back into their proper locations in the tool chest. And of course, the modern fear of leaving your cell phone at home. I’m not sure how I managed before the late ’90s, but today the idea of heading anywhere without a charged phone feels like a poor life decision.

Now that we’ve set the stage, let’s talk about one of my flying concerns. That would be not having a proper emergency tool kit onboard—especially when venturing any real distance from the home airfield. A quick local flight doesn’t bother me much. But stretch the radius a bit, and I want that kit within reach.

That mindset wasn’t born out of theory. It came from experience.

Once, on a flying vacation some eight hundred miles from home, I had a flat tire. There I was, far from anything familiar, reminded that mechanical problems don’t care where you are or what you had planned. They just show up. Since then, I’ve had a hard time enjoying any trip—by air or by road—without the means to deal with a reasonable amount of trouble myself.

Airplanes reinforce that lesson. On one trip, I had to change out a switch away from home. Nothing glamorous, but when a small electrical component quits a hundred miles from your hangar, it suddenly becomes the most important part on the airplane. Having the tools and a few spare parts turned what could have been a grounded trip into a short delay.

I’ve seen it play out with others, too. One friend had a broken exhaust while away from home. With a little creativity and just enough confidence to proceed, we wrapped the break with metal cut from a can and secured it well enough for him to fly about thirty miles home. Not pretty, but effective.

Another friend had a similar failure. This time, we used the tool kit to disassemble the broken exhaust, flew the pieces home for repair, then returned and reassembled everything where the airplane sat. It wasn’t quick, but it worked. And that’s the point—when you have tools, you have options. Without them, you’re just standing there hoping the problem fixes itself.

That philosophy doesn’t stop at the airport. I often take the tool kit with me in the rental car at the destination. Over time, I’ve used it to fix all kinds of small issues away from the airplane—things that would otherwise turn into inconveniences or delays. A few tools can turn a problem into nothing more than a short pause.

Because of that, I’ve become intentional about what I carry. The goal is simple: combine functions and minimize weight.

At the heart of the kit is a good knife or multi-tool—the kind that can do a little bit of everything. I carry a compact bit driver with Torx and various screwdriver tips, covering most of what I’m likely to encounter. A set of locking pliers serves double duty, functioning both as a clamp and as a standard pair of pliers. I keep a small set of flat open-end wrenches—nothing excessive, just the sizes that matter on the airplane.

Beyond tools, I carry materials. Sections of stranded wire, a handful of common fasteners, washers, and nuts that match what’s typically used on the airplane. A couple of general-duty switches, connectors, and crimp fittings—small items, but often the difference between being stuck and being mobile.

There’s a section of heavy-duty duct tape, because experience has proven that duct tape earns its place in any kit. A tube of epoxy repair putty for those situations where something needs to be held together just long enough to get home. Cable ties—more useful than they have any right to be. A pair of nitrile gloves, because sometimes the job gets messy.

And in writing all this out, I realized I had overlooked two items that absolutely belong in the kit: an old pair of reading glasses—for those of us who need them—and a surplus sick sack. One helps you see what you’re fixing. The other…well, it helps you deal with everything else.

All of this, surprisingly, comes in at about six to seven pounds total. Not insignificant, but not excessive either—especially when you consider what it can save you. The entire kit packs neatly into a roll-style tool bag, compact and organized (courtesy of the RAF!) One photo shows everything laid out—the full inventory in plain view. The other shows it packed, rolled up, and ready to go. It’s a small footprint for a lot of capability.

I don’t stop at tools. The kit also includes a few basic survival items: a rescue mirror, two thermal blankets, and a way to make fire - a flint and steel or at least a lighter. None of it weighs much, and I hope none of it is ever needed. But airplanes have a way of taking you over places where self-reliance matters.

Some might call this overthinking. They may not be wrong. But I’ve found that a little anxiety, properly channeled, turns into preparation. It turns into options. It turns into the quiet confidence that when something goes wrong far from home, you’re not entirely at the mercy of it.

So yes, I like my tools put back where they belong. I don’t like leaving home without a phone. And I don’t like traveling far without a proper kit. Because somewhere between experience and a little bit of worry, I’ve learned this: you may not be able to prevent things from breaking—but you can be ready when they do.