Mercy! Mercy! That Dang Nabed PERCY!

The Phoenix

Well, at last I have a moment to breath. When the Exploratory Writing Workshop is in session, where I serve as facilitator, I’m up to my neck in reviews of the student’s work.

We have a good group this session even though two of my flock are late on their first submissions. Not a good start. Still, I hardly consider myself rigid at anything and students can make of the course what they wish. However, there are some heavy hitters who have showed up and I read with amazement the first lesson vignettes. They were quite good and six out of eight ain’t bad. Isn't that a line from a country and western song?

On Wednesday at the flying field, the wings fell off my airplane. I could blame someone else but I won’t. Even though this is Wisconsin and nobody takes personal responsibility for anything around here. “Shucks," (Place holder for the S word) doesn’t just happen in this state, it's always somebody else’s fault. Well, needless to say I caught plenty of gaff and my reputation as a flaky builder and flyer took on a whole new dimension.

Actually it isn’t funny or unfunny. The way I learn is through trial and error. What is cool about this RC flying hobby is that there is little margin for error. If you screw up the plane crashes… simple as that. There's no tap dancing around the evidence of splintered balsa and twisted control wires. It’s a long walk out to pick up the wreckage while everybody is trying to be polite…. At least until you get out of ear shot. Only afterwards, as the trauma passes do you start to hear the good natured comments. The wings fell off…! How did you ever manage that Percy... Chuckle, chuckle… I hate it when my friends smirk. SHUCKS! (Just wait, what goes around, comes around at the old airdrome.)

After I crash I don’t want to fly any more that day so I sit in my chair, drink my water, smile and try and look cool and composed while inside I’m sulking and muttering invectives at myself. Fortunately the flying stops when the sun goes down unless some night flying is scheduled. That’s right LED lights on the wings… is that ever a hoot to watch. When I got home I started pulling out all the receiver, servos, and all the salvageable hardware. Then I had a brain cramp. Why not invert the fuselage, put stringers down it and make it into a “War Bird?” My wife said, "Why don’t you just buy a new trainer and quit flying that rehabilitated junk you keep patching up?" So I took her advice and bought a brand new trainer (while at the same time proceeding with the clandestine implementation of my plan.)

Everytime I do something on my new “Almost Ready to Fly” (ARF) trainer I do the same thing to my War-Bird. I flipped the old trainer fuselage over and built up the taper behind the cockpit with the wreckage of an old Folker I smacked into the ground. Then I fixed the wing by making sure it had a support tube inside and the halves were epoxied together. (That was the lesson learned) So as I progress on the New ARF… concurrently, from the flames my Messerschmidt dubbed “The Phoenix,” is also taking form. Can’t wait until next week when somebody asks…”Hey Bob is that a new plane you got?” to which I’ll reply, “No, remember that one the wings fell off of last week? Well I patched it up." Am I a fraud or what?