Focus on Competition
A Note From the Technical Director
Bob Underwood
April
One of the first lessons I learned when I started writing a regular column in a magazine was that no matter what you say, someone will take exception to your words. Even if you deign to use long-established fact to support the most innocuous subject you can imagine, someone will challenge your words, even if you don't editorialize. So be it! That really is one of the things that makes the world interesting. With that plain homily in place, let's proceed to render this month's wisdom. (definition of "render"—"to tear apart")
Some years ago, before I came to AMA, I wrote a Scale column for Model Builder magazine. I really enjoyed having that opportunity for several reasons. It was great having a forum for ideas. Writing the column made me more observant of the Scale scene. Also, it was great working, albeit in a small way, for the Northrops. Over the years I used that phrase in this column a number of times. I would like to use it once more to lead off this column as I address some truths learned over the years (often the hard way!).
You can't cut it longer!
Whether you measure the piece of wood with a ruler or lay it alongside the line on the plans, once you have cut it, that's it for making it longer.
My dad is one of those individuals who can best be described as a human ruler. He can look at something and give you a very accurate assessment of its size. Even with this skill, he always preached that you should be careful to check before you cut, especially if the piece is something like a wing spar or some other load-carrying part. Should you commit this horrible deed and cut the item too short, you will unquestionably discover that one of Murphy's laws will immediately come into play: the piece you just cut will be the last piece you have, the hobby shop will be closed, and they won't have one anyway. This leads us to the next thought.
Scratch building is cheaper!
Let's lead this off by saying that there are individuals out there who are able to produce a model for less than the cost of a kit. They have the skills and the time to use innovative materials and methods to produce the model. While very few actually grow their own balsa tree, some people have the ability to cut their own wood, or to work with foam and fiberglass, or buy stock in bulk lots that really bring the cost down. For the general modeler, however, there usually is greater waste when trying to scratch build.
In many ways the waste associated with materials can be overcome by spending more on another important item—time. Careful preparation of part layout can be very helpful. Even more time spent determining what stock size to use can cut down on the waste factor. Of course, many people find they don't have the extra time available.
In my experience my building time breaks down into three distinct segments when I am scratch building:
- About 25% of my time is spent figuring out how to build the part. This includes such things as how to attach the wing, how to plan the cowl so I can get the engine and tank in, how to fit the muffler, etc.
- The next 50% of my time is spent actually doing the building. Generally you will find that the building is actually broken down into segments as well. For instance, if you are building the wing in two separate panels, the second panel will take much less time than the first one did. Have you ever noticed models have parts that come in pairs? That's why some people build two models at the same time — they find the second one fairly flies (no pun intended) to completion.
- The last 25% of the time required to complete a scratch-built model is often spent redoing the things I didn't get right in the first 25% of my time. Sometimes the "whoops" is a simple one. Other times it's much more complicated. Like the time I forgot part of the aileron linkage in one wing panel!
Please understand that I'm not trying to discourage anyone from the scratch-building scene. Perish the thought! The rewards are fantastic. Just exercise caution and plan carefully.
It won't show when I cover it!
Wanna bet! I've been trapped with this problem so many times. Whether you're working on a scratch-built or a kit model, what goes under the covering will have a profound effect on how the model looks. While it's true that the covering can hide some defects, virtually every modeler will want to create an outstanding model at some time in his career, and slapping lots of filler and paint over a poorly constructed model will not make it great. Remember the old adage about making a silk purse out of a sow's ear?
The place most people get into trouble is at the sanding stage. Aside from the tedious nature of the process, when the model looks like an airplane most of us want to get it done. I have developed a philosophy that suggests when I arrive at the point where I think I have sanded enough and am satisfied with the finish, I sand one more time. The same thought could be expressed for rubbing out a painted finish or even applying a plastic film covering. (Isn't it strange how time seems to continue to creep into this dialogue?)
Don't land — it'll get better!
If you say you've never done it, you're probably lying! There you are—a hundred feet high, straight and level. Suddenly there's a control twitch or an unusual sound. Your brain (or the mouth of the person standing next to you) tells you that something isn't right. Granted you don't know what's wrong, but your first thought may be to land. However, just as suddenly as it began, the abnormality goes away. Your brain shrugs its shoulders and you continue flying. The modeler's method of rationalization takes over and you think, "Whatever it was will go away!" Wanna bet?!
Mechanical things, like an engine, or a control linkage like a radio, usually have a way of letting you know that their innards are sick. Unlike living creatures, your model and its components don't regenerate; they don't fix themselves. You would do well to "listen" to the clues that are offered and get the model checked out by someone you trust. Your older friends can help you learn the many symptoms if you're not familiar with them. They may include lean engine runs, vibration noises, fluttering surfaces, linkage problems, and a host of others. Just remember that if something goes really wrong you can't leave the model up there to fix it. For every takeoff there is at least one landing—whether you control it or not!
Just one more flight!
This is in the realm of pure superstition—kind of. It was always a joke around Buder Park in St. Louis that you never said, "Well, one more flight and I'll call it a day." The theory was that most certainly you would crash on that flight and it indeed would be the last! What we always said was, "Well, just two more flights, take one and go home."
Now we all know that this is superstition. But at the other end of the flying day, before the first flight of the day, it isn't superstition—it's something else. I'm certain that we're all aware of the need to preflight. Whether your check is comprehensive or cursory, it's a vital element for safe flying and model longevity. Interestingly enough, however, there is one time we all have rushed a bit too much: the very first flight of a new model.
I have a bag of parts hanging over my workbench. It contains a few remains of a model I built almost twenty years ago. It didn't survive because I got too eager to fly it and rushed the maiden flight. If everything isn't right, don't fly the model!
We can all cite instances where someone arrived at the field with a new model, found something a tad out of whack, but decided to fly it anyway. I'll never forget the guy who decided to "fly away" even after he found out his ailerons were hooked up backwards (many years before servo reversing switches!). He considered himself an experienced flier and could remember that the ailerons were backwards. He may have "remembered" with one portion of his brain, but the part connected to his fingers "forgot" in a flash. Scratch one new model!
There's a good chance that the majority (or all) of this column is already part of your knowledge base. If so, fine — consider the text a gentle reminder for 1992. I suspect that if there is a central thought for this text it would be to think, to observe, to compare, to listen, to learn. Hmm! That's more than one thought, isn't it? Oh well, I didn't say you had to think to write—just to build and fly.
Until next month...
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
