What Is a Type Rating and When Do You Need One?

When Do You Need a Type Rating — The FAA Rule for Turbojet or Over 12,500 lbs

Type ratings have gotten complicated with all the conflicting advice flying around pilot forums and Facebook groups. As someone who spent 22 years flying commercially and collected five type ratings along the way, I learned everything there is to know about when the FAA actually requires one — and when it doesn’t. Today, I will share it all with you.

That first rating cost me $8,000 and a solid month of my life. The fifth one ran $22,000 and three weeks. But here’s what nobody tells you before you start writing checks: you don’t need a type rating for every aircraft you’ll ever touch. Getting this wrong means wasted money, wasted time, or both. The actual rule lives in FAR 61.31(a) — surprisingly readable, as FAA regulations go. Turbojet engine. Or over 12,500 pounds maximum takeoff weight. One of those two conditions triggers the requirement. That’s genuinely it.

Turbojets are the engines you’re picturing. Compress air, combust fuel, produce thrust. The Boeing 737, the Airbus A320, the Embraer E190 — all turbojets, all requiring type ratings before you sit in the left seat professionally. The FAA’s position is that these aircraft are complex enough that a pilot certificate alone doesn’t cut it. You need documented, evaluated training on that specific airframe’s systems, handling quirks, and emergency procedures.

What Aircraft Do and Don’t Require Type Ratings

Probably should have opened with this section, honestly. Because this is where the confusion actually lives — and where I made my first real mistake early in my career.

I assumed the Saab 340 needed a type rating. Turbine aircraft, 34,900 pounds — seemed obvious. Wrong. It runs turboprop engines, not turbojets. No type rating required under FAR 61.31(a), technically. Most regional operators train you on it anyway because they’re running an airline, not a charity school for minimum requirements. But the certificate itself? Not mandatory.

Aircraft that DO require type ratings:

• Boeing 737 (every variant — 737-700, 737-800, 737 MAX)
• Airbus A320 family (A318, A319, A320, A321)
• Bombardier CRJ-200, CRJ-700, CRJ-900
• Embraer E170, E190, E195
• Boeing 757, 767, 777, 787
• Airbus A350, A380
• Any turbojet-powered aircraft exceeding 12,500 lbs — which covers nearly every commercial aircraft you’ll encounter

Aircraft that DON’T require type ratings:

• Cessna 208 Caravan (turboprop, under 12,500 lbs)
• Pilatus PC-12 (turboprop, under 12,500 lbs)
• Piper Meridian (turboprop, roughly 4,600 lbs empty weight)
• King Air 200 (turboprop, approximately 12,500 lbs MTOW — sits right on the boundary)
• Beechcraft Baron (twin piston, under 12,500 lbs)

But what is the King Air situation, exactly? In essence, it’s a weight classification problem that depends entirely on the specific variant and configuration. But it’s much more than that. The King Air 250 has an MTOW of 15,000 pounds — that triggers the requirement, full stop. The King Air 200 lands at exactly 12,500 pounds depending on equipment and fuel load, which puts it in genuinely gray territory. Some operators require the type rating. Some don’t. Don’t make my mistake of assuming you know which side of the line your specific airframe falls on. Call your local FSDO and get an actual answer before you plan anything around it.

The Practical Cost and Time — What Actually Happens When You Get One

Type ratings aren’t theoretical exercises. You show up somewhere, hand over a significant portion of your savings, and spend weeks in a simulator. I’ve done this five times. The economics are real and they matter more than most instructors will tell you upfront.

Price range is wide. On the low end — around $5,000 — you’re looking at Part 135 single-pilot operations in something like a Citation Mustang or Phenom 100. On the high end, widebody ratings on a 777 or A350 can run $50,000 out of pocket. Entry-level airline ratings — 737 or A320 — typically fall between $12,000 and $25,000 if you’re funding it yourself. If you’re already employed by an airline, they’re usually covering it. That distinction matters enormously for career sequencing, which I’ll get to.

Duration locks into 2-4 weeks regardless of how fast you learn. The FAA curriculum doesn’t compress. You’ll log 15-30 hours in a Level D full-motion simulator. You’ll cover hydraulics, pneumatics, electrical systems, flight management computers, performance data, engine limitations. Emergency procedures get drilled until your responses are automatic — double-engine flameout, hydraulic failure, pressurization loss. Then comes the checkride with an FAA examiner or designated pilot examiner. No shortcuts exist in that sequence.

Here’s what genuinely surprised me, even after five of these: simulator training is actually better than real-aircraft training for type ratings. An engine fire in a real 737 is a career-ending or life-ending event if handled wrong. In a Level D simulator, it’s a Tuesday afternoon scenario you run three times until the flows are muscle memory. That’s not a feature the marketing brochures emphasize enough — it’s the actual point of the whole system.

Type Ratings That Open Career Doors — Which One Should You Get First

Not all type ratings carry equal career weight. Some are golden tickets. Others qualify you for a specific narrow job category and don’t transfer much forward momentum when circumstances change.

The Boeing 737 and Airbus A320 dominate commercial aviation. Over 11,000 737s have been built — it’s the best-selling commercial aircraft in history. The A320 family isn’t far behind in fleet numbers. Having either rating makes you immediately hireable at dozens of carriers. I’m apparently a Boeing person from my early regional days, and the 737 rating followed me through every airline transition I made. Different employer, same type certificate, immediate qualification transfer. That’s what makes type certificate portability endearing to us career-minded pilots.

For Part 135 charter and cargo work, the Citation family — Citation II, Citation Excel, Citation X — and the King Air variants are the bread-and-butter qualifications. Charter operators want midsize jet pilots. I earned the Citation X rating as my second, when I was seriously evaluating charter work as an alternative path. The performance envelope on that airplane is extreme — Mach 0.935 cruise, 51,000-foot ceiling — and the systems depth showed in the training intensity. Three weeks in Wichita. But it opened doors the 737 rating alone couldn’t touch.

Bombardier Globals and Gulfstream large-cabin jets occupy a different tier entirely. High-profile passengers, premium compensation, specialized operational demands. These are fourth or fifth rating territory — you reach them after you’ve already built significant momentum and someone in that world knows your name.

What Order Makes Sense

First, you should start with whatever aircraft your current employer operates — at least if you want someone else paying for the training. Regional flying the CRJ-900 or E190? Get that type rating first. It’s free, it’s required, it’s on your resume immediately. This is how most pilots earn their first type rating and why the economics of that first one are categorically different from every subsequent one.

Your second rating should expand your marketability. A 737 from regional work pairs well with an A320 as a hedge across both dominant narrowbody types. Or a 767 if you’re transitioning to a major carrier’s widebody operation and they’re offering upgrade training. So, without further ado, let’s get to the math part nobody wants to discuss.

My fourth type rating — an A350, earned after three weeks in Toulouse — cost $32,000 out of pocket and three weeks away from home. I ran the salary differential calculation three times before committing. It justified itself, but barely and only because the specific upgrade opportunity was time-sensitive. Additional ratings are personal financial investments that require actual math, not just aviation enthusiasm.

The FAA rule is clean: turbojet engine, or over 12,500 pounds MTOW. That’s when you need one legally. When you should pursue one strategically is a separate question entirely — and timing that decision around real career opportunity is what separates a well-built logbook from an expensive collection of certificates.