Giant Flying Bicycles

     When I was a kid, between the ages of maybe eight and ten, I was really interested in airplanes.  I often sketched doodles of them on the backs of my worksheets at school, I tried to always read about them in library books, and I was absolutely fascinated by just about anything that flew.  Specifically, World War 2 military aircraft have always been sort of special to me.  Even though I don't really pursue it anymore as an interest, my eyes always light up and my mind starts racing when those kinds of aircraft are brought up.
     Part of this interest was spawned from my dad, whose interest came from his dad.  My grandpa was in the United States Air Force during World War 2.  His enthusiasm for flying carried over into his post-military life, and he has had a lifelong love of aircraft.  My dad and uncles inherited and shared this fascination, which was passed onto me.  It runs in the family, I guess.

     My birthday is nearing, and my lovely fiancee Keri surprised me today with a visit to the Pima Air and Space Museum, a world-class aviation museum right here in Tucson, Arizona.  I was extremely excited, and we had a really fun time.  My boyhood enthusiasm came right out, as I ran from airplane to airplane, telling Keri what I remembered about each one.  When we first entered the museum, we were unsurprisingly greeted with a replica reproduction of the Wright Flyer, the first successful powered aircraft.  Growing up in North Carolina, known as the "First in Flight", I learned about the Wright brothers in elementary school.  They were  bicycle mechanics and frame builders during the great Bicycle Boom of the Victorian Era.  They held patents on some bicycle inventions, and are credited for starting the standard today of left-sided crank arms being reverse-threaded so the pedals do not loosen themselves while pedaling.  That is a very important innovation for the bicycle!
     Although the replica was hung from the ceiling and it was difficult to see the entire thing, I couldn't help but smile as I noticed the bicycle-inspired parts.  Thick sprockets attached to the propellers were driven by what looked like a giant, heavy duty bicycle chain.  On the motor itself, which was a custom-built machine, a more standard-sized chain helped drive the system.  For some reason, and I'm not sure why, I noticed a bare bicycle hub mounted to the front of the canard wings.  The only purpose I can give it is that it assisted in the aircraft taking off from its wooden railed sled.

Left:  A reproduction of the Wright Flyer at the Dayton International Airport.  Source
Right:  A close-up of the bicycle-inspired drivetrain that propelled mankind skyward.  Source

     They used the money they earned from their bicycle business to fund the research and experiments that eventually led to the forefather of all modern aircraft.  Essentially, the airplane was invented by some guys who built and worked on bicycles.  Bicycles and airplanes have always been at least somewhat connected in my mind.  Recently, it has become more concrete to me.  Both are vehicles which were considered radical at their time of conception, paving new roads and opportunities.  For the airplane, it's obvious: man was able to fly in the sky after hundreds of years of yearning to do so.  For the bicycle, perhaps not as obvious:  people were liberated to go greater distances at lesser costs, both financially and physically.
     Both machines are built to be light and efficient, relying on physics to maintain stability, unlike a four-wheeled automobile, which is stable for geometric reasons.  This may seem like the silliest reason, but I think it deserves notice:  aircraft were for the longest time controlled via cables, just likes bicycles.  This is actually still true for smaller aircraft, such as Cessna bush planes.  Strong steel cables run from the controls of the aircraft's cockpit to the various rudders and ailerons that control the aircraft in the sky.  Larger, more modern aircraft, such as jet-powered fighters and civilian airliners, have obviously upgraded to hydraulic systems, just like the bicycle when cable-actuated brakes weren't cutting it for hardcore mountain bikers.  About halfway through our visit, I couldn't help but think that airplanes were just giant flying bicycles.

What I can only guess to be control cables, running along the inside of a B-17 Flying Fortress.  Taken at the Pima Air & Space Museum, March 4, 2013

     We only had a few hours to see the whole museum, as they closed at five o'clock, and we unfortunately entered the one building I unknowingly would have wanted to visit the most dead last.  This hangar housed a B-17 Flying Fortress, this time a plane which is a family favorite, as it was the aircraft my grandpa flew in during World War 2.  But just as we stepped into the cool air, one of the elderly volunteers told us they were closing this building in five minutes, so we had better hurry.  So we rush into the exhibit era, and lo and behold, there is a restored B-17 in all of its glory.  But propped next to a wall exhibit is something that I must admit interested me much more:  an era-specific bicycle!  I had never seen a bike this old so up close before!  As I excitedly kneeled to take pictures, another elderly volunteer came up and told me they were closing in a few minutes, so I should take that time to take pictures of the plane.  I smiled and didn't feel like explaining that I was a bicycle mechanic.  I only had a minute or so to look at it, but it was really cool.

Left:  Front shot of the bike.  It was so interesting to see such an old bike!
Top-right:  Rod-actuated brakes, something that just does not exist anymore unless you're in a developing nation.
Middle-right:  The bottom bracket and crank arm, using the dreaded cotter-pin interface.
Bottom-right:  A Brooks saddle!  Now that assures me I have a quality product.
All taken at the Pima Air & Space Museum, on March 4, 2013

     I had never seen rod-actuated brakes before.  They are a very old precursor to the cable-actuated rim brakes we have today.  These used a solid rod that pulled up on a set of rubber pads, which actually gripped the underside of the bicycle rim instead of the sides like they do nowadays.  The bike was not in the best shape, but it was good enough for me to really enjoy.  Keri pointed out the saddle to me, which was none other than a Brooks leather saddle.  Quite worn and gnarled around the edges, but still very distinguishable, this makes me feel good about my purchase.  If a saddle from the 1940s can at least still bear its shape and resemblance then that is good enough for me.

     Seeing all of the airplanes sparked some strong memories for me too.  In every building, it seemed there was at least one plane that I learned about from my dad.  If it wasn't the SR-71 Blackbird, the current record holder for the fastest manned aircraft propelled by jet technology, it was the PT-19, an aircraft used to train new pilots on how to fly during World War 2, and a plane my dad always seemed to get excited about.  He loved it so much that we actually embarked on one of our first father-son projects, and built a wooden toy plane that we painted with the familiar blue-yellow color scheme.

Left:  The PT-19 on exhibit.  One of my dad's many favorite planes.  Taken at the Pima Air & Space Museum.
Top-right:  The wooden toy plane my dad and I built when I was a kid.
Bottom-right:  A close-up of the plane.  Note the (mostly) similar paint scheme.
All photos taken on March 4, 2013

     I was probably nine or ten years old, and he had just bought a scroll saw; for what exactly, I'm not sure.  But he wanted a project, so he decided he and I would build a little plane.  The fuselage was cut from a piece of pine, probably a two-by-four, and the wings, tail stabilizers and wheel struts were cut from hobby plywood.  I remember my job was to sand everything down to be really smooth, and that I hated doing it.  The propeller was from a model plane, one of those motorized hobby planes that run on a control line as you spin in a circle.  My dad liked playing with those, from time to time.  The most special piece though is the nose cone, a completely custom part that my dad made one night on his tiny lathe in the basement.  He was so proud of it, just a simple, polished piece of what I'm going to guess is steel due to its shine.  The vertical tail fin and the wheel struts were first attached to the fuselage with glued toothpicks, but when those broke he repaired it with cut bicycle spokes.  It seems bicycle spokes solved a lot of his problems.
     A love of airplanes will always be one of the bonds I have with my dad.  I think it transcended the need for any sort of discussion or validation.  It was simple:  we both were just naturally drawn to them.  The same could be said for bicycles, but I honestly think the sentiment runs deeper with airplanes.  Maybe it was because they are sort of mysterious and unattainable.
     I remember my dad briefly wanted to get his pilot's license, but he never got very far with it.  According to my mom, he started reading the books, and went up on an observation flight with a pilot to get a feeling of what he was in for.  After he got back down, I guess he decided he couldn't do it, because it required a lot of reading, written tests, and technical knowledge.  My dad felt his way through everything, just like me, and while you can fly with that sort of skill-set, I don't think it is really encouraged to let novices go up if they don't know exactly what they're doing beforehand.

My dad and his tandem jumper, right after they landed back on the Earth.  This picture
hung on a wall in his house ever since the day he leapt from the plane.
Date unknown, probably summer of 2002.

     Despite this, my dad maintained a lifelong desire to take to the skies.  After our family moved back to Indiana and my parents split up, my dad took to visiting the local airport and watching the skydivers.  He liked to go up into the jump plane and ride back down as the plane tried to beat the plummeting skydivers to the surface.  One day, my dad decided he wanted to join them, and he soon found himself leaping out of the door of an airplane, strapped to an experienced skydiver in a tandem jump.  It was one of my dad's proudest moments, something he had always wanted to do and something he would always be excited to talk about afterwards.  He really loved doing it, although he only did it once; it was a pricey endeavor.  He really wanted me to do it when I was old enough, but I refused.  I enjoy airplanes more as museum pieces, and at least, when safely buckled inside of one.  But maybe someday when I'm in my early forties, that will change.

My entire gallery of the trip to the Pima Air & Space Museum can be found here, on my Facebook profile.  If you ever find yourself in the Tucson era, and you're a fan of aviation, I highly recommend visiting the museum, although I do also recommend to come earlier in the day as our two hour visit was not long enough.