Mr. Calm has a plane. Well, it's technically a glider, and can go up to 60 mph. It's meant to "glide with the birds". Most likely, it's going to glide right into the top of a tall tree.
It's not the first time we'll deal with a little catastrophe. There was a not-so-little crash landing years ago. This sucker was a big hobby plane... don't remember the cost, but it was probably a pretty penny. He took it out to the soccer fields near our house, and we went along to watch its inaugural flight. Up, up, UP into the air it went... and then, I don't know, it decided it wanted to sing opera rather than fly, and plummeted back to Earth. Alas, it would not sing any arias, as it crashed into pieces on the ground.
It was disappointing. I'm sorry to say it was also hard not to laugh. Not meanly, you know. Just surprised that the life of his plane was so ridiculously short.
He's also played around with building his own type of "rocket"plane. He has the fuselage built from scratch, and part of an engine. Well, you know how it goes... work, life, boredom. It's in a box somewhere in the attic.
Here he is several weeks ago. Bought a plane that was "specifically" for beginners. We found a field near the dam that had tall grass: perfect for bracing the landing. And he did well that day, only losing a wheel. Not so fortunate was he-- or the plane-- the next time he went back, with OD. See, he also bought a computer program that teaches you how to fly all types and sizes of model planes and helicopters. But he didn't learn enough, because this time, the plane flew straight into the top of a thirty-foot-tall tree. And yes, it's still there. So is the Coke bottle OD threw to knock it loose. That's stuck right under the plane.
Here is Mr. Calm with his glider. While he's had it for about four years, I've never seen it, and my exclamation was loud and seriously surprised when he showed it to me. He's not ready to fly it yet; he still has practicing to do on the computer program. And then he has to find a damn big, empty, clear field. I suggested the soccer fields, the scene of the original crime.
Last night he found out that there is a model plane flying club here in town. They have a park, and a long runway. Maybe he can go out there and get tips. Maybe he can learn how to avoid crashing this glider into someone's head or rear end before he initially flies it. I do hope that the life of this glider is substantially longer than the last planes he's flown. I love him dearly, but after all the crashes and snafus, it seems like such a... futile hobby! ;)