Ronnie inherited a nice control line model airplane and he had a new engine but just the one wood propeller. He didn’t want others seeing him make his first flight mistakes so the Dhahran ball field was out; I suggested we go out to the old Reclamation Yard. This was a huge yard to the west of Dhahran that held everything of value that couldn’t be used by ARAMCO at the moment. After a few visits one got the idea that the place was organized, although it looked like a huge junk pile to unaccustomed eyes! There was even a stripped tubular fuselage of some early airplane used by the Company. I frequently sat in the cabin area and pretended to operate the controls. We headed out to Reclamation with his model and all the things necessary to get it to fly: batteries, fuel, and the control lines that were twisted around a cardboard wheel with a crank to facilitate feeding out and taking up the control lines.
The area we selected was a road, a sandy path really, but we smoothed a space somewhat free of rocks, situated the model, and stretched the lines. Ronnie was showing some nerves and I chalked this up to first time flight jitters. There were no encumbrances in the circle where the airplane would fly so he started the engine, topped off the fuel tank and I took a hold of the tail while he ran to the center of the circle and picked up the u-shaped handle.
The sound of the high-speed engine deafened. All signals had to be by hand. Ronnie pulled the lines taunt, moved the handle up and down a few times to see that the elevator was working, and then gave me the familiar wave that means, ‘let’er go!’ The model moved forward but a wheel struck a rock, pitched the tail almost straight up and the propeller hit the ground. One blade circled away as the engine stopped and the plane came to rest on its back. We both looked on in disbelief and then in disgust. We were done flying that day. These were the days when props were of wood and we both knew in 1950 there was no glue strong enough to repair this propeller. It was done.
We were quiet as we walked back to Ronnie’s house. We had to go by the ball field and we noted how smooth and soft it looked, perfect for flying a control line model. I think Ronnie was upset with me for having a hand in this fiasco. I can’t recall we did much together after that. Sometimes uncompromising events define relationships.
I felt guilty since I could envision his plane zipping around the circle at Reclamation. NOT! Maybe I sold my idea too hard. Walking home I was thinking that bad airplane karma was working overtime at Reclamation. There was already one hulk sitting there; we invaded the old skeleton’s space and we had paid dearly for the insult.