The fat lady has sung..

RC Slingsby Capstan - finished

But not flown. In fact, reposing on the lawn is likely to be the closest the poor woody bugger gets to a landing that doesn’t end in a deep analysis of the sub-soil. My bro and I destroyed the first one some *CRIKEY* 30 years ago* through multiple arrivals that were only charitably differentiated from crashing if all the bits could be found.

To offset my legendary flying skills, I thought it best to install a pilot both scale like and sanguine. Having found myself creatively compromised, I turned to the kids who delivered in spades.

RC Slingsby Capstan - finished

Apparently Eric the abandoned-naked-doll Pilot flew well from the bedroom windows during innocent young girls’ games of “lob stuff at the lawnmower“. That was enough for me, and he’s been properly installed with pillow AND blanket. Looks pretty damn relaxed right now although that’s likely to change come first engagement with aviation.

Now she’s a fat old bird, that’s for sure. Statuesque I like to think, but even the most heroically partisan would struggle to call her pretty. The full size version attracted a legend that it generally landed before the flying tug that had hauled it aloft. This was due to a glide angle kindly compared to a brick or shot duck. Having flown the very same full size, I’m here to tell you that is no legend. Shot Brick more like.

Back to the micro version, it’s not exactly bristling with technology. Just two servos driving rudder (yaw) and elevator (pitch). For those not of an aerodynamic persuasion, what we’re saying here is the only thing that’ll get the big old bertha turning corners is if the builder hasn’t cacked up building the wings properly.

With me being the builder, you can guess at my confidence that, post chuck, it’ll merrily bulldoze downwind – occasionally wagging the capacious arse – before finishing in someone’s tele. Having come through the roof. And the first floor. Excellent, report back on that.

And delving into my other bag of excuses, the temptation of buying my way into talent has a pinnacle that looks something like this:

Still in one bit!

Pre-loved or not, that’s a shit load of cash to chuck into thin air. First couple of flights were packed with incident as it zoomed around the sky with indecent haste, leaving my thumbs some few hundred feet behind. Neither landing was great if I’m honest, with the better of the two being the one I couldn’t see once said flying cash disappeared behind the hill. Still intact tho, not quite sure how.

So switching back to something that goes very slowly and doesn’t turn round much is likely to be a bit of a challenge. Still based on how old apparently I now am, that’s probably some kind of metaphor.

* That can’t be right. Maybe now I’m so old, my memory is addled or the cerebral loaf has a wither in the mathematical deduction lobe. Whatever, it cannot be 30 years ago. Unless I was a couple of years old and chewing on the transmitter. Yeah, that’ll be it. Phew.

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