By : Lloyd Watson

So, I have known my only older brother all my life. TV producer, private pilot, sailplane pilot, Hobie Cat owner, AMX owner (a rare sport vehicle), and recently a Flying wing owner. He lives about fours hours away by ground transport so he contacts me by a 30 minute communiqué via satellite. I get this excited and almost unintelligent conversation that conveys the following:

(I do manage to pick out the basics)

1. He wants me to travel about 50 miles away to look at a "Mar-ski" flying wing. YEAH Right!!! (I'm thinking " not another radio controlled project").

2. Check it out to see if it is capable of being finished (now I know the real reason for the call, I get to finish it).

3. Send pictures so he can consider the purchase of same (this could be a profit center for me if I can just bill him travel time).

You see, I have all the mechanical aptitude and inventor-ship-ness, the work shop to support the project, and a massive Snap-On roll-a-round with all the required tools.

I also have four years in the airforce as a weapons system Technician and a year in AC-130 Gun ships. ---- And big brother has a really big selective service number and the time and resources to fly---ain't it always the case!!!

I grabbed my favorite traveling buddy, Ray Silkwood; fired up the weekend road warrior (a 1972 Blazer with a more than stock power plant); and take to the road on the first free morning for all involved. The back-up reason for the excursion being a stop at several of my favorite pawn shops and secondhand tool stores (just in case this is another Piper Cub in need of several years worth of annuals, lots of navel jelly, and a whole lot of rat poison).

We locate the correct driveway and rumble in ---THERE IT IS----. There is this little bitty cockpit and these massively long wings and it is all suppose to be stuffed in this crafty little trailer. My first thought is how am I going to get that entire 50-foot wing into that itty-bitty trailer? Second thought is if there is just a little bit left to do to make this bird flight worthy. Third thought is how come it was not complete and not flying?

Ray and I tear through the inspection covers like a "Tim Allen modified Binford ten horse Shop Vac" and find almost nothing wrong with the interior of this really unique looking Stubby little flying wing. It does not have a motor or a visible means of pitch control but it does have a conventional stick and rudder. (I'm thinking "Maybe I can put in a Rotax and gear it to push a prop through the hand crafted gear reduction linear inter digitized rectabular extrusion three to one...nah, maybe not!!!)

Paint is not great but adequate. Basic white with a really poor red stripe job. (Again I am thinking "Maybe some ghosted flames in neon green with a false flying tigers shark teeth in matching yellow along the canopy...nah, maybe not!!!")

The instruments need a little TLC. The panel is really basic and the interior is pretty functional except for the bicycle handle grips on the spoiler and stick.(maybe a porcelain gearshift knob would fit).

One thing has to go though. Those stupid looking trailer wheels (maybe a Boyd's inverted -finger wing-three spoker with center covers - YEAH that will do it!!!). Sure as there is Ridge lift in the Rockies, I didn't get to stop off and see any of my favorite pawn shops.

I ended up with this little sweetie in my workshop and a promise from my brother to "Come down on the weekends to "HELP-ME-A-LITTLE" with the process of getting this bird flight certified. So with Ray, my dad Thomas M., and my only older brother and this "Mar-Ski" flying wing in my front yard, we start off what is to be a great part of life for me and my only older brother.

NEXT DAY is wash job, complete inspection of every moving part, and the agreement the PVC pipe bushings in the wing ribs (installed to ease the friction on the push tubes) have "GOT TO GO". The noise of aluminum tubes and PVC rubbing created when aileron is induced is like a fingernail on chalk board symphony!!!!!

Nine weeks later and just a few hundred drops of red and white corpuscles on the shop floor, the FAA inspector is in MY work shop and spending time with my only older brother to determine if all of Irwin & MY work is Government Approved or not.

I watch with amazement as document after document and photograph after photograph are detailed with more conflagration of verbiage than the control tower at O'Hare has ever heard. Sure enough after several hours or so the inspector has to 10-100 and the pow-wow between me, my Dad, and my only older brother centers on how we are going to have to deal with this inspector to get the ticket we need.

Back he comes and he wants to see the wing disconnected. Mind you, we have spent several hours of the early morning sweating the process of getting the wings all aligned perfectly and this guy wants me to remove a wing!!!!

So with a little banter of the time this might take and a pretty heavy raised eyebrow of disgust on my part, I agree to allow this inspector to view the Ballet of professionalism required to dismantle a single wing. I find out that when he speaks to ME he is a pretty nice guy who really likes my workmanship and is fully satisfied with the inspection process and signs on the dotted line and it is all over!!!

My little sweetie has "OFFICIAL STAMP OF APPROVAL" for "N86TX" to be stenciled on my bird---err--- my only older brother's bird.