The Haught Corner
Vindicated: To paraphrase an old line, being a free‑flight flier working full‑time for an RC‑oriented organization is a bit like being a pair of brown shoes in a world of tuxedos. Our warm, sensitive staff reminds me at least daily that my modeling "choice" is not exactly mainstream. With perhaps 1,500 competition free‑flight (FF) fliers in an AMA membership of 160,000+, they have a point, and there's nothing I can do except try to grin and bear it.
The bantering among co‑workers is fine—I certainly dish out at least as much as I take—but labels ("he's the FF guy") can be tough to shake. An otherwise brilliant ballplayer may get a "choker" tag because of one dropped pass or kicked ground ball.
It happens in modeling, too. Gary Hoover is noted for his accomplishments in RC pylon, but did you know he also won Senior Class B FF at the 1963 Nats? And Ed Keck is known by the RC crowd as a top competitor in Pattern and pylon, yet he gave that up and is now a world‑class FF F1C flier.
Thus was born the Vindicator—a real, live, full‑service powered RC model, designed and built by me. From concept sketch through completed article, this one's mine.
Of course, I had some help from Jay Mealy and Steve Kaluf, the two RC gurus on staff, but they were consultants and test pilots—not designers. We had lots of discussions about the design, but I still did essentially what I wanted to do with it.
If I had listened to everything they "suggested," the model would have had a .40 in it, would have used ailerons, and we would have been pylon‑racing three of them during our lunch hours. Instead, the model has a .09, is a big floater instead of a racer, and has "only" three functions.
And despite my best efforts as a designer, Vindicator flies quite well—even I can handle it! Hope you enjoy it.
But there's still that nagging question: "Why do you do that FF thing?" (Usually asked in a "when are you going to see the light?" tone.)
There are all the usual esoteric reasons: free as a bird, the purest form of modeling, etc. But really, that's the least of it for me.
Sometimes I think it comes down to whether you prefer to fly models or pilot them. Many modelers have full‑scale piloting in their past, present, or future, and modeling is a cheaper, easier way to get a flying "fix." Nothing wrong with that.
But tell me there's a better sight in modeling than a number of FF models gliding silently in a thermal. Chasing my own thermaling model, watching it fly so gracefully, is exhilarating—every time. After thousands of flights in years of competition, the thrill of getting that "free ride on Mother Nature" is still there, even for the most hard‑bitten FF competitor.
Then there's the risk factor—the uncertainty of it all. Once a model leaves my hand, I can never be certain of the result. No matter how much I've practiced and prepared, I may have a great thermal flight and then put the airplane into a horrendous downdraft; or the climb and glide may be perfect, or I may have to pick up pieces. I may win a national championship or get blown away in a local contest; I may have the model for years, or lose it to a hot thermal or a cornfield. That unpredictability is captivating, endlessly fascinating, and often humbling.
When did I know that flying free‑flight models uplifted me so? When first I soared, when was it, how long ago?
When did I first succeed? Which model lit the spark burning in me still? I can't recall, I only know flying free always will.
—from My Heart Goes Soaring by Charles Rushing
As the years go by, the biggest reason I still do "that thing" is the people involved. They embody a competitive spirit combined with camaraderie and sportsmanship that I have yet to see in any other sport or activity.
Many of us have known each other for many years, but when the competition starts, each would love to bury the other under a string of maximum flights. Closest of friends before and after flying, we're at each other's throats all day.
However, let a problem arise, and that same rip‑your‑heart‑out competitor will be at your side to loan you equipment, repair your model, help you locate a lost airplane—anything to make the outcome as fair and legitimate as possible. It's as though victory is tainted unless you do everything in your power to help your competitor beat you!
At the recent Nats/USOC, Les Hallgarth loaned me a critical part I had stupidly lost, and I proceeded to place second in the event. When I was done flying, I helped him repair his damaged model and loaned him a glow plug so he could get his flights in and try to beat us.
Les didn't place, but that wasn't the point. When the flying was over, we were satisfied that we had individually and collectively done everything in our power to win, and we had fun doing it. And frankly, I'll remember that much more than the trophy I won.
I love the fact that the competition is intense, but at the same time the contests have almost a family‑reunion quality about them. This is especially so in the larger events, which give me a chance to fly with people I only see once or twice a season. It's always great to see them again, fly with them for a few days, and share time together off the flying field. I wouldn't trade our friendship and time together for anything I can think of.
But most of all, flying FF is fun. Really fun. And a funny thing—it gets to be more fun each year. The elements mentioned above come together in a way that gives me a tremendous amount of joy and satisfaction.
Dinosaur attitude? Maybe. I know FF probably has a limited lifespan now. But perhaps that helps me appreciate the time I have left with it—and why I feel so strongly that FF is "just right" for me. May each of you find something in our hobby that pleases you as much.
Jim Haught Managing Editor
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
