If at First …

By Ruth Chin

As seen in the May 1998 issue of Model Aviation.

Editor’s note: The October 1997 issue contained “You’re Never Too Old … ” by Muncie photojournalist Ruth Chin, who was attempting her first model—an electric J-3 Cub. Ruth shared her “growing pains” as she attempted construction of the model with limited help.

It was a perfect day for flying—sunny, with little wind. So I called Steve Kaluf at AMA Headquarters, who promised to help me launch my Piper J-3 Cub on its maiden voyage. My very first model airplane was going to rise above the earth and soar the sky like an eagle, to join those other airplanes that have received kudos on AMA’s flying fields.

Steve called upon Jim Haught to hand-launch the Cub while he operated the radio. I’m trusting these two men with a year’s work, since I’ve never flown a model airplane by radio control. I have all the trust in the world in these two seasoned pilots.

Steve Kaluf checks the Cub’s power system before the first flight.

Steve checks prop clearance under the author’s watchful eye.

After Steve made some mechanical adjustments with the propeller, checked the model’s balance, and checked the radio’s worthiness, the men walked out to the flying field with my proud “work of art.” It’s like seeing one’s painting being hung in an art gallery.

A group of onlookers had assembled to witness this spectacular flight. How happy I was to have witnesses for the show, to prove that I could make an airplane too.

“Are you ready?” shouted Steve. “Okay,” was Jim’s response, and away he went running with the airplane in hand to launch it. The yellow Cub took to the air, though slow and low, banking left and right with a slight stall, struggling to rise for about 25 feet, and then really stalled—plummeted to the grassy ground … ka-rash!

I stood numb. “What happened?” I uttered tearfully. My pride-and-joy landed with the wheels torn off, it’s nose disjointed, with grass sticking to the dented cowl like a sad guy with whiskers. Bits of balsa wood and airplane parts laid askew. It was a sight to make me want to bawl—a year to build and a minute to crash.

“It needs more power,” summarized Steve, “and possibly a longer propeller.”

We gathered up the parts and pieces and sauntered back to the shelter, where the crowd looked on in silence. There was a sympathetic atmosphere, in which I learned these modelers had all experienced this momentous occasion in their own lifetime of modeling.

Sometimes things don’t work out as we’d like. The author’s pride was actually hurt worse than the Cub, which suffered damage more cosmetic than substantial.

“You’re one of us now—a true modeler,” Jim shared his empathy.

“Whatever that meant,” I wondered. All I could think of was, “Where is the nearest trash can?” My nose was out of joint as much as the airplane’s. I had such high hopes!

“It can be repaired,” advised Steve. “Think of it as a jigsaw puzzle. Use heavy glue where there is a gap, thin glue for putting pieces together—but remember that glue adds weight.”

Taking the wreck home, I laid it on the work table and just stared at it. Yuck!

After the initial shock was over, I surmised,” Maybe I could fix it,” but here are no instructions or manuals for repairing broken airplanes. The original plans and the instruction manual will have to be used.

Looking at the plans again brought another tear. The airplane was so new when I started to put it together, so mysterious, and so much fun to assemble. Will repairing a wreck be as much fun?

First I removed the hardware so that I wouldn’t damage anything while gluing the bits and pieces together. No sense asking for more trouble.

I started gluing what I could together, after checking to see if I had acetone or fingernail polish remover, just in case the CA glue would dry on my fingers as it did when I first used the glue. And of course, somehow glue got under my large ring, gluing it to my finger and the two fingers next to it. I dunked my fingers á la ring into a can of acetone. I finally got unstuck, and so did the black design on the ring. Oh, well!

Somehow the airplane didn’t look neat, what with pieces not quite meeting after gluing. Some pieces had lost splinters of the balsa wood. Steve had said to use thick glue to fill the cracks, but that would only add weight—so why not duplicate the pieces, since I had saved all the scrap material, as the instructions had informed to do?

Weeks have gone by and the airplane looks pretty good after piecing it back together. Somehow it wasn’t nearly as bad a job as I had first thought. Why? Because by now I was experienced!

However, the covering was really in a sad state—torn, but it could be patched. But would it look neat? I fought making the decision to tear off the covering down to the bare wood. I could sand down those rough places if I had the covering off, I surmised. Oh, why not—it would be the third time this airplane has had to be covered. (The first time was when I forgot to take the backing off the MonoKote. That was a disaster when bubbles began to appear. After rereading the instructions, I then found the mistake.)

Making the decision to remove the covering was monumental. If I took off the covering, maybe I could do a better job of it. There are some parts that didn’t cover smooth enough. And what about the logo and lettering? Would I be able to duplicate them? Maybe, just maybe they would peel off. (Yep, they did.) So now what was I waiting for?

Oh heck—why not? So, rrriiippp!

The man at the hobby store exclaimed, “You back?”

I explained what had happened, and that I needed some Piper Cub Yellow (and of course, a bit more glue.)

Recovering the airplane wasn’t nearly the hassle it was the first time, partly because of being “experienced” and partly not being afraid of the material. I used the tacking iron more than the blower, which seemed to tighten the covering more smoothly.

Now to put back the hardware, check the batteries for the motor and the radio (to see that the wires went in the right direction) as well as putting the pushrods back in place to the rudder and elevators.

Replacing the antenna was as much a challenge as the first time. All one needs is patience, and then some more of it. I learned that if you don’t succeed at a job, leave it alone, and go back to it later.

However, putting an airplane together is still a lot easier the second time around. Even replacing the lettering that peeled off the old covering was a snap compared to that first time.

After the airplane was together again, I recharged the battery and let her run. The radio worked, as the pushrods responded to the rudder and elevators.

Now: Contact! Switch on! Clear! Oops, the engine didn’t turn. Now what?

It was time to go through the instructions again, and lo and behold, the fuse! I didn’t replace the fuse that had blown from the crash. Putting a new one in, I turned on the motor switch, while knocking on wood for luck. I held my breath, and in a blink, it works!

Now, does it fly? We’ll soon see!

Whoever said, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again” must have had me in mind.