christchurch and district model flying club

Diary of flyer

The story so far. B Leonard Wise wants to fly a Spitfire.  After much trouble he has managed to buy a second hand one, and some fuel. With help he has the engine started and is now lined up at the flight line ready to fly.

I stand here with the Spitfire at my feet. I hold it back by standing each side of the fuselage. I rev the engine and get a load of oil all over my Suede Shoes and Lemon trousers. Never mind, the Battle of Britain was not won by worrying about such things. In my mind I said Scramble, Scramble, Scramble. I know how the plane works. Pull the stick back and the flap thing at then back goes up so does the plane. Stick to the side the flaps on the wings move and so goes the plane.

I stand aside, gently open the Throttle and the Plane accelerates down the runway. What a sight my own Spitfire racing to take off. I pull back the stick, just like I did when trying it out in the Garage without the engine. It started to lift off. Then it started to tilt to the right. Stick to the left thought I and being a quick thinking chap, to the left it went.

Then disaster, the plane rolled over on to its back plunged into the runway and skidded along. The tail came off the wings went one way and the body the other. There seemed to be bits everywhere.

I must say that in this life I sometimes think the whole world is against me. My Wife tolerates me, my son despises me. I sometimes felt that my works colleagues laughed at me and now, after all this effort to get the plane airborne it crashes. I am not a man given to tears, but on looking at the mess my beautiful plane had become they were very

close. Somehow in my distress I must have sunk down onto one knee, because there was a touch on my shoulder and Walter told me, “I know how you feel, it happens to us all, it’s always the first crash which is the worst.” With him came the teenager, who had a large black bin bag. Walter suggested that we go and pick up the pieces with a view to repairing it. “Repairing it”, I said, nearly sobbing “it is not mendable.” “Oh yes it is” said Walter “The wings are designed to come off like that, the tail has just broken and you will need a new prop. Let’s have a look.”

The three of us went out to pick up the pieces and Mike, the teenager, put them in the bag .”Jimmy Flint was a good builder, said Walter, “his planes were a little heavy but that made them easy to mend.” “Its no use me trying to do that," said I, “I would not have the faintest idea where to start. I will have to try another hobby.”

“Tell you what” said Walter “why don't I take it home and have a look at it in my Workshop then you can come round and we can make a start.” “I could not impose” said I.” “Listen” said Walter , “Since Gladys died I have been on my own, apart from when the Children and Grandchildren come. I could do with the Company. We'll soon get it together.  How about next Tuesday?”

“And in the meantime how about a lesson on the Club trainer, we have it here. First you will have to join the club to keep the Insurance right then you can have a lesson.”  “The plane was not right” I said  “that is why it came down.” No, it came down because you over-corrected, you nearly got it right but not quite right. Anyway if someone offered you a flight in a real Spitfire, do you think you could fly it?” “No” I replied “I would need a good deal of training before I would be safe.” “Well it's the same with models” said Walter, “so let’s get the Club Traininer started and you can have a go - I can see you’re keen”

I am now ready for my lesson. I expect that after one lesson I shall be able to fly my repaired Spitfire. I now feel a bit more cheerful.

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[Contents] [Chairman's Chatter] [Editorial] [Slicker 50] [Diary of a Flier] [LMA Cosford] [LiPoly Batteries] [Christmas Tale] [Plane Crazy] [Answers] [Sloping]