Sponsorship is important for high level stunt and combat competition. I am fortunate to be sponsored by the wife of the guy who builds my airplanes. She recently said, “The Prius has more than 200,000 miles on it, and you are too old and stupid to drive it anyhow. You need a new car with self-driving stuff.” That sounded good to me. I tried a Tesla, but my left leg didn’t fit it (this is a true story). She bought me a Prius station wagon. That’s OK. A regular Prius is a little too flashy for stunt. I put in a stunt plane rack, smeared some wax on the front so bugs wouldn’t stick, and lit out for the Nats.
The new rig came with satellite radio. I alternated among the fifties channel, the sixties channel, and the Elvis channel. I mused that if the guys who wrote, “And I know that our love was a love of true love.” and “The kids in Bristol are sharp as a pistol.” could have forseen people listening to those songs sixty years hence, they would have put another ten minutes’ effort into the lyrics. Similarly, if the Plains Indians could have forseen the billboards blaspheming the view on I-90 in South Dakota, they would have put up more of a fight. I went through Wyoming instead. A billboard outside Evanston extolled the scenery.
New government bathroom rules seem to have confused the Wyoming authorities. Figure 1 is a Wyoming rest area door.
I got to the Nats on Saturday. Muncie conditions caused my airplane to lose interest in flying stunt. More RPM, less tip weight, and wider handle spacing set it straight. Thanks, Paul.
For the second consecutive year, I invited myself along to the F2D winner’s victory celebration. Igor Dementiev won this year. Various combat luminaries attended. I had a nice visit with Mike Willcox, whom I hadn’t seen for awhile. Most of the guys there had been to Australia in May and were going to Riga for a contest in August. It’s a cosmopolitan bunch.
Muncie was hot this year. Kaz Minato described the weather as mushi atsui, which translates as steamily atsui. I settled into my routine of flying stunt in the morning, going to the Twelfth Street for mush, taking a nap, and flying more stunt the last couple hours before dark. Even though dire weather is often predicted, evenings are usually perfect at the L-pad. It’s my favorite place and time in the world.
The ladies at the Twelfth Street asked about the Scarinzis. We didn’t see them this year (they’re fine, reports Bob Hunt), but Dan Banjock did have pictures of a young Larry in an old magazine to show the ladies, who were appropriately impressed.
My wife Marilou had a busy week. She delivered a 777, got laid off (voluntarily with a big bonus), retired, turned 65, and flew to Muncie to see me fly stunt and ensure that I wouldn’t run out of gas on the way home.
I flew some pretty substandard stunt on Wednesday and Thursday. My homies Chris Cox and Mike Haverly were in the same qualifications group. I made it to the semifinals, when their suggestions on the official way to do overhead eights started to sink in. I flew some pretty good stunt Friday, but a nonstandard overhead eight on my first flight and a botched wingover pullout on my second put an invitation to compete Saturday in doubt. Kaz flew the last flight of the round Friday. When he landed, I explained to him that had he flown bad stunt, I would have made it to the finals. He had, however, flown good stunt. We went to the scoreboard. Kaz saw his score, turned to me, bowed, and said, “I am sorry, Howard-san”. Derek Barry also bumped me. Marilou and I got even with him by spoiling his children.
Usually I go to Clancy’s to wash my car after arrival in Muncie. I decided to hand wash this one when I got home because I didn’t want Clancy to scratch the plastic ceiling window. People made fun of the wax on the front of the car. The exception was Steve Hines, who thought it was a clever idea. Samantha, pay attention to your dad: he’s a wise man.
The sixth- and seventh-place guys have the “privilege” of warming up the judges at 7:00 Saturday morning. There was zero wind. Not wanting what happened to Kenny Stevens and Richard Oliver to happen to me, I ran backwards on everything until the hourglass. I didn’t crash, but the flight was awful. Next to fly on that circle was Brett Buck. He seemed remarkably loose for the Nats finals. It took me awhile to remember that he, too, was there to warm up the judges. My mind couldn’t comprehend Brett not being in the top five.
This wasn’t my favorite Nats. It was great to see folks, but the heat and a silly complaint by a friend about my tabulation program kinda spoiled it for me. I congratulated Dave and went to lunch.
We had a pleasant trip home, trying to figure out the new car’s peculiar software as we went. I enjoyed the rest areas on I-80 in Nebraska and Iowa. Nebraska’s are artsy with sculpture. Iowa’s are architecturally interesting with different themes. Figure 2 was taken at an Iowa rest stop with electricity as a theme and a wind turbine blade as decoration. Behold the vortex generators.
I arrived to find it hot in Seattle, too. I mowed the unmowed lawn and washed the car. The bugs came right off.
Topic: My Nats Trip (Read 2935 times)
