| A Nats Story I recently updated my PAMPA membership and Shareen sent me all of the 2002 issues at once. I was very interested to check out the Nats 2002 issue and was a little disappointed to see that there was no Nats coverage for this year (or my picture). Well, that was just not going to do! So here’s my little Nats story. Keep in mind, with my memory I am making no attempt to cover all of the events of the Nationals. I am only attempting to entertain, and clue you in to the Nationals experience through the eyes of “yours truly”. Let
me first say, that my Nats adventure really began three weeks before, when my
2002 season airplane decided
it was going to split in two on the second inside loop.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The big Saito was doing a perfect uphill to downhill transition in the inside loops, absolutely perfect in the high winds, there was no sign of windup at all. Then there was a loud BOOM and my shiny “Zone” was folded up like a closing a briefcase. The whole thing went (obviously) crashing to Earth. Of
course, my best EVER Saito 72 leading
the way. The wreckage made it
abundantly clear that saving weight by omitting the fillet in the INSIDE of the
wing joint is “really not a good idea”.
The wing had been sheared off at the inboard fuselage side, as if by a
huge machete. My best
propeller was a pile of splinters, but I managed to find one blade that had all
of the pitch data written on the back. Even
my lines were ruined (I hate solids, but I use them anyway). I
packed up my broken machine, most of the parts (the big ones), and headed home.
I was in shock…most of the Dallas crew looked pretty darn shocked as
well. I had spent most of the last
six months preparing for the big event which was now only three weeks away.
“The Zone” was definitely the shiniest airplane I had ever built
(which was sure to prove deadly in Appearance Judging) and was a solid flyer, as
it showed no real bugs and I was really getting into the groove with that plane.
But now, all was lost… I
think on the drive home, most specifically at somewhere about Highway 75 and
Arapaho, I just snapped. Seriously,
I snapped. I think I was actually
twitching at that point. My mind
began to form an elaborate logistical plot to resurrect my shattered Nationals
dreams. It couldn’t be that bad,
really! All I had to do was the
following: 1.
Build an airplane and finish it to a Nats level. 2.
Get it trimmed, or hope the airplane required no
trim. 3.
Make an exact reproduction of my best prop.
4.
Rebuild the shattered top end to my best Saito and
bench-test it. 5.
Practice a few days. 6.
Drive to Muncie and hope I don’t embarrass
myself in front of the whole CL Stunt community.
Simple!
It was a short list really, and it was really the only prescription for
my shattered dreams and broken heart. What
choice did I have? I
did, however, have a few “Aces in the Hole”: my friends.
Most specifically, Doug Moon. The
Dallas crew is a pretty tight knit group and we tend to try to take care of one
another. We loan each other props, fuel, tools, and pretty much take
the responsibility for coaching one another.
I had a PA 65 that Doug liked a lot, and I was in desperate need of some
expert building help, so I hoped a deal could be struck.
I think Doug would have helped no matter what, because it seemed no one
wanted to leave anyone in Dallas this year. I
had an Ultra Hobby Products Impact wing about 90% complete.
It was sitting in my front dining room still suspended from Rabe wing jig
that Al had made for me. In short work the wing could be completed. I asked Doug to
finish the wing and bend up some gears. Now
all I needed was the rest of the airplane.
Lucky for me Thomas Edison invented the light bulb and some other really
smart guy invented the LASER. Because
if him, we have LASER
CUT MODELS. I made pretty short
work of the Impact tail feathers and fuselage.
To cut a few corners, I installed my own design motor crutch (which is
also laser cut) and salvaged a molded top block and rudder from construction of
the “Zone”. I decided on a look
and ran with it. I
came home from work every night at about 6:30, changed clothes and worked
diligently until about 1:00 am every night.
Doug did likewise (it is normal for him). My wife and I barely spoke for the next ten days, but she
completely supported me and hoped I would be successful.
I had the airplane framed and covered in silkspan and filled (ready for
color) in 13 days. On the 14th day, Doug came over to my house, where
we proceeded to mask, paint color and clear the airplane in 4 ½ hours.
I buffed the airplane the next day, and assembled the now repaired Saito
72 (with the same clunk tank from the crash) and new hand carved replica of the
destroyed propeller and headed to the field for a test flight. Long
story short, the newly christened “Shear Panic” flew more satisfyingly than
any other airplane I had ever built. It
was dead straight and tracked like a truck.
It flew a reasonably good corner and did excellent rounds.
Oh, and it was REAL YELLOW so it looked HUGE!
I was stoked! I practiced as
much as I could the rest of the week. Everyone
was very pleased with the new creation, and the airplane got very good reviews
considering the timeframe. All was
right in the world once again so I began packing for Muncie.
All
in all, it was a good investment. I
loaded up the old reliable Pathfinder with the Shear Panic, 7 books on tape and
enough high nitro fuel to blow up a small village.
Even though the Moons insisted that they ride the entire way together,
forcing me to ride BY MYSELF the entire way, I persevered. I kept a steady diet
of Diet Cokes and Harry Potter books on tape, and kept the cruise set on about
80 MPH. The
first night we made it to Joplin in about 4 hours and we settled into the local
Motel 6 for a little shuteye. I was
so hopped up on caffeine that I knew sleeping was going to be, at best,
difficult. To make matters much
worse, apparently some high school jackass was having a dispute with his
ex-girlfriend who just happened to be staying in the room next door to mine.
This fella’s idea of conflict resolution was to pull his poopbox Chevy
out front, wind up his anemic post-pollution control V8 and dump the clutch.
The idea being that he would burn off the tires and raise a lot of noise.
Instead all he could manage was a mere “chirp” and then his engine
would die. This doofus literally
tried to smoke off his tires for an hour, as apparently what he lacked in brains
and horsepower he was more than adequate in resolve.
Imagine it. I had 4 hours to
hope for sleep before I drove ALL THE NEXT DAY, and I gave one hour of
sleep up to VRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOMMMMM
<chirp> (die)
(pause) crankcrankcrankcrankcrankcrankcrank (start) VRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOMMMMM
<chirp>
(die) (pause) crankcrankcrankcrankcrankcrankcrank REPEAT
You
get the idea… I
lay there in a dizzy fog knowing that if I got up out of that bed I was going to
be sleeping the Joplin City Jail because someone was getting a severe beating.
It was at this moment that a sighed, covered my head with the pillow, and
thanked God that I had left my .45 at home. I
was up at 5:00 am (three hours after I went to bed) and woke up the sleeping
Moons (man, that is not a pretty sight). The
second day of driving it was becoming increasingly obvious that keeping an eye
on the Big Blue Moonmobile was becoming more difficult.
It was quickly becoming apparent that every human being on the planet had
recently purchased a Chevy Suburban, and was now test-driving it through the
Ozarks. No kidding…
We stopped in Missouri on the second day and I commented on the
“Suburban factor” to Doug as we stood and pumped gas into our thirsty
SUV’s. We watched the adjacent
overpass, and we figured that 7 out of 10 vehicles that we saw pass were the
exact same truck as Steve’s. Just
in the short time it took to fill the tanks.
We Americans really are SUV happy, aren’t we? I
was living my Nats dream, but I couldn’t help but realize that I was feeling
progressively worse physically. You
see, I had been struggling with what I thought was “asthma” for several
months. That is, I was frequented
with a burning sensation in my lungs, that at times was painful to the point of
distraction. Making it
impossible for me to workout or do anything strenuous.
None of the medications for asthma seemed to help much and the trip
seemed to be exacerbating the situation. It
felt as though someone was hitting me in the back with a baseball bat while
simultaneously forcing me to inhale CA fumes. I did not feel good at all.
This feeling peaked when I arrived at Muncie, so if I talked to you at
all that first night and I seemed a little distracted, sorry…
When Steve said, “let’s get in a few practice flights before dark”,
I nearly fainted. Note: Incidentally,
the pain in my lungs was so horrible in Muncie that when I got home I got a
second opinion about the condition. It
turns out that my previous six-month unemployment and the new pressure cooker
job had actually extracted their toll after all.
What I had was severe
acid reflux.
I was actually inhaling acid from my stomach into my lungs, especially
when I got nervous, anxious, or drank Diet Coke…
Ouch…it hurts to think about it to this day. We
arrived at about 5:00 pm on Saturday, and Doug and Steve couldn’t wait to
start flying. I gazed bleary eyed
at Doug as he crawled yawning and stretching out of the Moonmobile, obviously
just waking from a nap on the road. Needless
to say, I was content to watch that first day, as the world was spinning all
though I was sitting still. After
short time, I made a beeline for the motel.
Ah,sleep… So, really, MY
NATS started on Sunday at about noon. I
actually got out of bed sometime before noon, lest anyone think I was not
committed to practice that morning, I wasn’t. I slept in on Sunday as you can
imagine, missing morning practice. I took some time to drop in on the Intermediate Nats that was being held down on the grass circles, north of the combat folks. Rich Peabody and Allen Brickhaus were steady at the helm of the event, and should be absolutely COMMENDED at their efforts and success. This is becoming a HUGE event and could even be more well attended if it were officially sanctioned (I think). Either way, I helped Doug and Steve appearance judge Intermediate (I nodded in agreement and pointed a lot) as some of the models were certainly well constructed and finished (the front row finisher was nearly flawless, and we looked it over pretty darn good too). Then we watched Jake Moon (Jake is the coolest little kid) and the other juniors put in their patterns, and lent a helping hand to Ultra Hobby Products’ own John Grigsby put in his officials in Intermediate. I made a point to take a little time to rap a little with Rich, as we have corresponded several times over the Internet (it is not every day that you get to speak to the self-proclaimed “Stunt antichrist”). I remember making a comment about how the Intermediate event is the only stunt event at the Nationals where you will one see one contestant do an entire pattern with five foot bottoms, and the next contestant will be lucky to survive the entire pattern. One flyer could do the entire pattern backwards and inverted----at the same time-with a huge Saito 91 4-stroke powered Fokker Triplane! Wow! You don’t see that every day, especially from an Intermediate! That Triplane was hard to miss, especially from the L-pad. Bob G. made one of the best comments of the week when he said, “if that guy does a 5 foot bottom inverted, the top wing is coming off”.
The
only negative about the L-pad was the fact that it was full to capacity and we
were only getting a flight every few hours.
It was to be expected though, as the WHOLE GANG WAS HERE.
Richard Oliver was a practice machine, and was getting in his final trim,
he was definitely going to be factor this week.
Rich Giacabonne had this beautiful dope finished
monster Stuka that flew backwards and absolutely looked a freight train in a 4
cycle (I voted for Rich for the Concours- Monday
was golf day, and adherence to the “Moon schedule” was mandatory.
Steve, John G. and I played the local municipal course a few miles from
the field. There was some cursing,
truuuuuuue… no one is denying that. But
the course was actually quite nice, certainly a bargain and it made for an
enjoyable day. Somehow I managed to shoot 82.
Good karma I guess… It
was after Golf Day that we discovered the grass circles.
It was obvious earlier in the week that we were not seeing anyone from
the West Coast practicing on the L-pad. This
included Paul Walker, Ted Fancher, and Brett Buck.
They were doing all of their flying on the grass circles next to the
combat site. We figured if it was
good enough for them we would give it a try, and we NEVER fly on grass. To prove it, I have asphalt permanently imbedded in my skin.
The grass turned out to be a real winner though, and we experienced no
problems as the ground was relatively hard and the grass shortly cropped. Our
level of practice sure elevated, and it was just like being at home, we were
into a standard rotation and had a circle all to ourselves.
We could fly as much or little as we wanted to.
It was also cool because we were right next to Ted Fancher-and-friend’s
circle, so we got to watch some good flyers there.
Brett Buck looked super sharp and crisp and Ted was flying very quick and
sharp. I
noticed one of their crew had brought what looked like a Trivial Pursuit and it
was obvious that he was flying some sort of 4-stroke, although it was certainly
not acting very happy. Appearance
judging was on Tuesday as usual and the models were stunning to say the least.
Paul Walker’s Mustang was the highest quality fit and finish, as were
several others. Several
others mind you. Bob Lampione had a
deep shine as well as Kenny Stevens, but as I said my favorite was the great big
Stuka. All the flyers retired to
the gym while the judging was taking place to have the traditional Pilot’s
Meeting.
Qualifiers
started on Wednesday, and the usual favorites seemed to be scoring very well in
Open. Ted and Paul Walker
especially, even though they were flying polar opposite styles. Ted was flying quick and tight as usual.
Paul was flying very large and soft, especially in the hourglass, but
both were scoring equally well. I
think Paul was leading his circle by 30 points at one stage.
Doug Moon was flying the best I have ever seen him fly, and he was eating
up all that clean, thick air like a fat chick on Hagen Daas.
Doug gets a lot of coaching and he is very capable trimmer, but mostly he
is a tremendous PERFORMER. In that,
he flies BETTER in competition, the more people around the better, it just seems
to elevate him even further. That
is a very rare quality. Richard
Oliver was also burning up sky and posting some well deserved high scores.
In fact, I believe he was high score on his circle first day of
qualifiers, a stunning victory for a true Rookie.
All that Al Rabe coaching is sure working.
Bill Rich was solid as a rock, as were Randy and Curt.
Brett Buck was one of my favorites for Top 5, I don’t know what
happened, it just never panned out for Brett this year, but this is certainly no
indication of his flying ability. His
snappy style is very clean and impressive and his airplane was one of the best
flying models of the week.
On Friday, the impossible was achieved, Doug Moon qualified 5th and was going to be named Rookie of the Year. To think, I was sorely outvoted when I insisted that Doug was wasting an entire year if he stayed in Advanced. Oh, yea of little faith… I don’t think I could have felt any better about that moment, even if it had been me. I do regret that I missed the Doug
water cooler dunking while munching a hot dog in the picnic tent (if
I would have been in on it, I would not have missed).
It is too bad I never got to see the Walker Cup fly-off, as I had to
return home and had to hear about the placing on the cell phone, but then that
is why God invented Windy Videos, right? Interestingly,
I would have won a significant amount of money if I were betting on the outcome
of the Walker Cup Flyoff, because I started telling everyone Paul Walker would
win in February. My
wife had arrived on Wednesday along with one of my best friends from Columbus,
and that made the last part of the week more enjoyable, and certainly the ride
home was a LOT shorter. My friend
Dan had brought his son Jeremy along, and much to my surprise Jeremy announced
that he would be returning the next year to fly in Junior against Jake.
We even sealed the deal by stopping by John Brodak’s booth and
purchasing a Flight Streak trainer for the boy.
That was the same airplane I started on, by the way.
Please, feel free to forward any kits or engines that you are not
planning on using, I am sure Jeremy will need lots of fodder for the mill.
Well, that’s one down… GZ
|