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LJ Idol Prompt #1 - Why I'm Not a Pilot
Sep. 19th, 2026 12:57 pmI thank God that cell phones weren't around when I was growing up.
No, I never did anything that required bail money; but I have plenty of cringe-worth episodes.
There were never any newspaper articles featuring me as a wayward youth.
I am thankful that there remains no evidence of my mistakes and humiliations.
One afternoon in the summer of my eighth grade year, my buddy, Keith, and I decided to fly our balsa wood model airplane off a basketball court. The intent was to actually take off from the court instead of taking off through our usual launch by hand. A court launch would be more realistic, we theorized.
There are two basic requirements for successful control line flying; 1. a gas engine to propel the plane and 2. control lines that are tight to control the elevation of the plane. The 'pilot' stands in the middle and the plane flies around and around and maybe up or down. Really experienced pilots can actually make the model do a loop; we never did a loop. We did, however, get very dizzy going around in circles.
What we did not theorize was the amount of movement that is required to keep the control line to the model taut. Keith was taking a step or half step with every revolution.
Did I mention that we were doing this dance on a basketball court that has goal posts at either end?
About two minutes into the flight Keith took a step closer to the goal post. I watch the model fly past the post and immediately wrap around, with each successive revolution going faster and faster, until BOOM and there was an explosion of balsa wood that now resembled toothpicks.
Keith and I were the only people that experienced this tragedy; and we only have our memories of it.
There was no one to critique our skill or even our judgment [or lack thereof].
It was a blessing to be able to make a mistake and share it only with a friend.
I miss those days,
No, I never did anything that required bail money; but I have plenty of cringe-worth episodes.
There were never any newspaper articles featuring me as a wayward youth.
I am thankful that there remains no evidence of my mistakes and humiliations.
One afternoon in the summer of my eighth grade year, my buddy, Keith, and I decided to fly our balsa wood model airplane off a basketball court. The intent was to actually take off from the court instead of taking off through our usual launch by hand. A court launch would be more realistic, we theorized.
There are two basic requirements for successful control line flying; 1. a gas engine to propel the plane and 2. control lines that are tight to control the elevation of the plane. The 'pilot' stands in the middle and the plane flies around and around and maybe up or down. Really experienced pilots can actually make the model do a loop; we never did a loop. We did, however, get very dizzy going around in circles.
What we did not theorize was the amount of movement that is required to keep the control line to the model taut. Keith was taking a step or half step with every revolution.
Did I mention that we were doing this dance on a basketball court that has goal posts at either end?
About two minutes into the flight Keith took a step closer to the goal post. I watch the model fly past the post and immediately wrap around, with each successive revolution going faster and faster, until BOOM and there was an explosion of balsa wood that now resembled toothpicks.
Keith and I were the only people that experienced this tragedy; and we only have our memories of it.
There was no one to critique our skill or even our judgment [or lack thereof].
It was a blessing to be able to make a mistake and share it only with a friend.
I miss those days,
