’Twas the Night Before an RC Pilot’s Wish List
Jennifer Lea Reynolds
jensunshine3@gmail.com
It’s that time of year when scented candles, family gatherings, and piles of cookies—did someone say chocolate and peanut butter cookies?—abound. Excitement is in full swing and the promise of a wonderful new year is ahead of us.
It’s a time where we often find ourselves filled with reflection and hope. Hope for good health and happiness, hope that we will land a new job or retire without a hitch in 2016, hope that … oh, who are we kidding?
That’s all fine and dandy, but many RC pilots are also hoping for a great flying year ahead. Of course, this means that we’re hoping for some amazing RC gifts during the holiday season, be it the aircraft of our dreams or simply some fuel tubing that’s newer than the 10-year-old faded yellow ones we’ve been using.
In following that line of thought and embracing the eagerness we all share during this time of year, the poem, “’Twas the Night Before Christmas” entered my mind. I hope you’ll enjoy the following poem with a twist that RC pilots might appreciate. Although not everyone celebrates this particular holiday, the revised poem is meant to evoke fun and capture the thoughts that often exist in the heads of RC pilots as the year comes to a close.
Enjoy your holidays and the new year. Be safe and have fun!
’Twas the night before an RC pilot’s wish list, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except a model flier trying to guess the gifts from their spouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a hobby store certificate might be in there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of test-flight runs danced in the pilot’s head.
And no deadstick drama, and I dreaming of a 40-size Yak,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s recap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the online RC forum thread to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore past my newly fixed rudders and that plane I almost put in the trash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of midday to objects using nitro.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature quadcopter, propelled by little tiny servos—oh, dear!
With a little bit of hovering, so lively and quick,
I knew something magical was controlling the sticks.
More rapid than eagles, a new fleet they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, Raptor! Now Moon Dancer!
Now Pacer! Now Sea Vixen!
On Comet! On Cupid!
On B-52 Bomber! On Texan!
To the end of the runway! Keep that elevator up,
Your engines mounted to the firewall!
Now lift up and away, lift up and away, lift away all!”
As the craft that before the wild windsock flies,
It banks with an obstacle and mounts to the sky,
Up to the workshop top the planes they flew,
Where I saw a bag full of gimbals and new retracts, too.
And then in a twinkling, I saw even more planes, all ready-to-fly,
With some props and servo arms to help give it a try.
I drew in my breath, and as I turned around,
What I’d been hoping for was resting on the ground.
A plane all dressed in bright covering from its head to its foot,
A fuselage not yet tarnished with grass stains, its landing gear staying put.
A bundle of wheels I saw in a sack,
The newest flight sim to keep me on track.
The spinner—how it twinkled! Those rivets, how merry!
The pilot figure’s cheeks were like roses with a scarf the color of a cherry!
Its dihedral was drawn up like a bow,
And the size of my grin I fought hard not to show.
A morsel of chocolate cookie I held tight in my teeth,
As my RC dreams circled my curious head—how neat!
The plane took up the entire basement space,
And had a round little underbelly,
It looked kinda like me,
When I’ve had too much fruit cake from my dear Aunt Nelly.
I felt chubby and plump, like a right jolly, old elf,
And I laughed when I saw the transmitter, in spite of myself.
But a wink of my eye and shake of my head,
Soon gave me to know I had better be off to bed.
I spoke not a word, but as I recalled my little smirk,
I looked at the stockings and wondered: were my thoughts a little berserk?
What if there were no plans, planes, or sturdy new retracts?
No certificates, no covering, or even just a sun-blocking baseball hat?
Ah, who knows?
My heart was light,
My holiday thoughts they rose …
At least I remembered to charge yesterday’s LiPos.
I tried to get out of my own mind’s way,
And gave my imaginary fleet a whistle,
Picturing them flying off,
Like a well-controlled missile.
Then I pondered what the flying field might be like on this magical night,
Soon enough, I thought.
Until then,
Happy landings to all, and to all, always a great flight!
