by Roan Kishpaugh

Created on: May 12, 2008

The Wright Stuff

With one last glance at the windsock, I took a deep breath, exhaled, and slowly advanced the throttle to full power. I felt my body press deep into the seat as the aircraft accelerated. When the wings began to create lift, I held the control stick forward a few seconds more then relaxed it and allowed the plane to become airborne. Feeling the awesome power of the engine over my head, I brought the nose higher yet to avoid exceeding the speed limit of the airframe. Quickly the ground was left behind as I soared into the air. I felt like the Wright brothers must have a hundred years ago.

Starting with a pile of aluminum tubes and some yellow Dacron, I spent a year rebuilding the ultra-light aircraft, piece by piece, replacing parts that were questionable, adding others, until a whole summer later, I had something that looked like it might actually fly. I diligently consulted the builder's manual, the manufacturer, and other builders to make sure each part exactly where it was meant to be. Finally, everything was just right and I mowed a practice strip in the old hayfield. Back and forth I taxied, feeling the breeze on my face and dreaming of the day when I would fly again. I already had my pilot's license to fly the "real" planes, but this was different. This was mine, my plane that I had built with my own hands.

It got cold that autumn and I took the wings off and put it in storage for the winter. The next year I reassembled it at the airport. Two days later a windstorm loosened the tie-down and I found my beautiful bird with its feet in the air. Once it was righted, I assessed the damage and was relieved to find only a broken tail strut. Two weeks and a special order from California, the plane was good to go and I resumed taxiing practice. The ultra-light handled very differently from the airplanes I was used to flying and it only had seating for one, so I wanted to be very cautious and thorough as I taught myself to fly it.

The day came when I felt ready to try some "crow hops", short flights a few feet off the ground. I taxied out to the runway and pushed in half throttle. As the plane accelerated just above stall speed, I pulled the nose up slightly and the wheels lifted off. "Sputter, sputter, bang, sputter!" Silence. I coasted to the side of the runway and unsuccessfully attempted a restart of the engine. Resigned, I hand-pushed the aircraft all the way back across the airport and tied it down yet again.

Weeks passed and I was no closer

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