Safety Comes First
SINGLE-STICK vs. Dual-Stick:
In my November 1996 column I printed a letter from Reg Hinnant of Corpus Christi, TX; he pointed out that many of the "hand in the prop" stories in past columns had revolved around two-stick transmitters falling over and pushing the throttle forward. He explained that by using a single-stick transmitter, many (or all) of the injuries caused by tipped or bumped transmitters (the throttle gets nudged, causing the airplane to surge) could have been avoided.
I indicated that I was anxious to hear the reason why fliers would choose single-stick transmitters instead of dual-stick transmitters. In the 11 letters I received, nothing substantial regarding safety was mentioned, but two common reasons for transmitter choice emerged. The first reason was apparent ease of use by the physically disabled (hence, safer flying), while the second simply revolved around personal preference—people started with a particular type and stuck with it.
I've been asked to point out to manufacturers that too few single-stick choices exist for people who prefer them. Although some companies did produce various single-stick models in the past, apparently only Ace continues to do so—at a prohibitively high price. Enter an article from old-time modeler Clayton Berry, who offers a possible solution to price and shortage:
"My right arm is paralyzed now, so a single-stick radio seemed the way to go. I remembered seeing them as a kid and knew they were out there, but the typical Tower ad doesn't list them.
"I settled on a Futaba Skysport and figured on having to do things the hard way. I learned to fly via a trainer cable and a good friend. Landing was a problem, as chopping the throttle at the last minute with the palm of my hand usually resulted in unwanted movement of either rudder, elevator, or ailerons. Less-than-graceful landings were the product.
"I had Y-cabled the ailerons and rudder together, which allowed me to steer on the ground with the right stick, but I clearly was having a difficult time. I started seriously looking for a single stick, and bought an eight-channel Futaba. This looked promising, but the throttle was designed to be used by the non-stick hand. I rigged a bellcrank system on the top of the radio to allow a two-inch throttle arm to extend up near the stick so that I could use my little finger to act on it without serious movement of the stick. This works okay, and I still use it today.
"I had joined a new club and brought the radio to show off my handiwork. One of the elder members, Ed Gerber, asked about my old radio. He's a big fan of Ace equipment, and with some disdain about working on the Futaba, took the Skysport to see about making a single stick of it. He used an Ace pot and knob on the top of a new right stick (hollow, to conceal the wires) for rudder. On top of this knob, he mounted a plastic bottle cap of the same diameter. Another pot resides here, with the lever moving fore and aft for the throttle. The trim adjustments are in the same location as before, and the hole for the left stick is blanked off.
'What a Cadillac!' The eight-channel, while having a provision for a trainer cord, can only be used with another transmitter of the same type. Not so with my Skysport—I'm teaching a friend to fly with it. I can safely say I would be seriously curtailed if I were still using a two-stick transmitter.
"Other notes on flying with one hand. The Du-Bro transmitter tray is a must. I also carry a length of rope while flying to retrieve the plane from the field after a dead-stick landing. I loop it around the prop and drag it back like I'm walking a dog. I had also rigged a starter into my flight box for flying alone, but have since dismantled it. I don't want to think about driving to the hospital with my hand sliced up."
Clayton's efforts and determination to fly safely have paid off, despite the lack of ready-made equipment available from manufacturers and the challenges he faces. His efforts, and those of his friends, highlight what keeps this hobby going—teamwork and success in the face of adversity, or better yet, determination to make the hobby work safely. Those in the transmitter business who might be noting Clayton's improvements should perhaps contact him via e-mail. He can be reached at jrclay@mnsinc.com and would be willing to provide pictures and further detail.
Avoid the Fog:
Several years ago some friends and I received an invite to fly at an exclusive flying site. You know the type of field—paved, fenced, has high membership dues and initiation fees, locked gates, etc. When one gets an invite, he or she doesn't like to go home without having had an opportunity to get a model into the air.
On this particular morning the fog was so thick that it was hard to see cars parked 50 feet from the pits. No need to worry—the fog would lift soon and we'd go up, right? Wrong—four hours later we were still sipping coffee and wondering when the weather would finally clear up.
One of the guys ran out of patience. He started up his model, taxied out, and commented that he was about to go IFR (Instrument Flight Rules, for those of you who fly full-scale).
As he lifted off and turned hard left, the airplane suddenly disappeared. Nothing more than the sound of an engine indicated that a model was in the air until it suddenly emerged from the fog in a hard bank, at ground level, and headed straight toward us! With no time to maneuver, the pilot decided to do the right thing and "buried" the model in the runway. The rest of us jumped to avoid being smacked by pieces of wing, fuselage, radio, engine, etc., that tumbled past. The pilot stood with a sad face and transmitter in hand, apologizing and observing what was left of a wonderful model.
As spring rolls around, if it's foggy when you head to the field to fly, wait for it to clear up or come back another day. There's no need to lose a model or injure someone because you've become a little impatient. I saw a similar story while I was scanning the Internet:
"As a novice RC'er with a couple of landings under my belt I confidently drove to the field with my Goldberg Anniversary Edition Piper Cub. (This is about the worst possible first plane—of course, I picked it.) Since there was absolutely no wind on that Saturday morning, I couldn't figure out for the life of me why no one else was at the field. Usually Saturdays were always busy, especially on a calm day.
"Okay, so I hadn't soloed yet, it was a calm day, no other planes in the air to distract me, and I had driven a long way to get to the field. Takeoffs were perfect. I climbed out at a shallow angle. Just as I made my first turn, my airplane completely disappeared! I could hear the engine noise getting softer and softer as the plane flew off through the layer of fog which began at 100 to 200 feet of altitude. Lesson: Even though there is good visibility at ground level, this does not guarantee visibility at airplane height! Using engine noise alone, I was able to bring the airplane back to the field and land the fog ceiling. Unfortunately I was limping from a small bump and was assisted back to the pits. I made a high-angle landing, taking off my gear. The airplane eventually tried to fly again until ..."
To be continued next month.
Transcribed from original scans by AI. Minor OCR errors may remain.
