entry 62 - 4th March 02
To Sisbury Ring on the bus, which
wasn't easy. The Huey is massive, and all its extra bits and pieces filled
two carrier bags.
Flying the Huey wasn't just a bit more tricky than flying the Corsair, but was sort of in a totally different difficulty dimension: a parallel universe of hardness.
I was scared to let it lift itself off the ground, even an inch. Every time it cleared the tops of the blades of grass it transformed itself - no matter what I did or didn't do to the controls - into a randomly spinning gyrotop from Hell.
Twelve hundred quidsworth of randomly spinning gyrotop from Hell.
So, for about three hours, instead of actual flight, I learnt how to make the Huey drag itself along the ground: backwards, forwards and from side to side.
At one point I realised I had an audience: an elderly Japanese man and his wife.
"Fry, fry, fry," laughed the man, raising his palms skyward.
I blipped the collective lever and the Huey rose to six inches, then everything went pear-shaped, so I let it drop back down again, onto the grass, to safety.
I smiled knowingly at the Japanese bloke.
"Higher," he said. "Fry higher, higher, higher!"
"Piss off," I thought.