His neighbor from across the hollow - Can E. Mendem - is probably helping him cobble the pieces together.

He's using the traditional methods of learning to fly "before buddy boxes". Unfortunately, he didn't have the instructor to shovel pass the transmitter to, either. Did anyone bother to tell him full-scale piloting is of no help when you're flying AT yourself to land? 677 American pilots died on WWI. Of those 263 died in the U.S. while training. Something like 10% of all German pilots killed died in training; and towards the end of the war that wasn't very long of a course.

You can teach yourself R/C . . . but the statistics will catch up with some sooner or later. Tuition in the School of Hard Knocks is sometimes higher than a good state college.

I taught myself on a Sig Kadet (long before ARFs) with similar results. Hopefully he'll reply before the year 2024 . . . 'cause when I did it I gave up when the pieces no longer fit together and the engine was toast and spent 15 years pursuing other activities.

Keep at it! At least you don't have to worry about the first scratches in the covering.


The Poor Avaitor Lay Dying (c. 1918)
(To the tune of "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean")

1. A poor aviator lay dying,
At the end of a bright summer's day.
His comrades had gathered about him.
To carry his fragments away.

2. The airplane was piled on his wishbone,
His Hotchkiss was wrapped round his head;
He wore a spark-plug on each elbow,
'Twas plain he would shortly be dead.

3. He spit out a valve and a gasket,
And stirred in the sump where he lay,
And then to his wondering comrades,
These brave parting words he did say:

4. "Take the magneto out of my stomach,
And the butterfly valve off my neck,
Extract from my liver the crankshaft,
There are lots of good parts in this wreck.

5. "Take the manifold out of my larynx,
And the cylinders out of my brain,
Take the piston rods out of my kidneys,
And assemble the engine again."


A toast to the self-taught!