Quote:
Originally Posted by MKSixer
Estes Rockets.
I have a mixed history with rockets.
I almost got one of these babies launched into my eye when I was over the launcher as the connections were made.
Later, we devised a way to launch them into a neighborhood immediately behind our property. We rigged them to ignite 1 second after the engine burn completed so they'd go up in fireballs. This lasted for a weekend until the cops came to my parents home to inquire about any fireworks being shot from this area.
They weren't amused by the visit in the slightest.
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Yes!!!
My buddy Chuck and I would beg one of our moms to haul us to the hobby store and we'd grab 2 or 3 of the big D-series engines. We were consummate tinkerers and preferred to build our own rockets rather than use one of the many kits Estes offered.
We had a spectacular failure with one of them when we were about 11 or 12. We'd built the fuselage out of a cardboard paper towel roll, slathered with lacquer for stiffening. Made some cardboard fins for it. All that was missing was a nose cone, so we set out to find one. Our search ended with the discovery of an old hickory wheelbarrow handle, the final 2" or so of which were perfectly sized and contoured to suit our needs. We hacksawed it off and tacked it into the end of the rocket. The fact that this component, at the top of the rocket, outweighed the entire rest of the craft by a factor of probably 6 or 8 was lost in our enthusiasm, though it would soon be evident how it affected the rocket's trajectory. There's a good chance that the home-made hard cider we illicitly fermented in the attic of Chuck's house had clouded our calculations.
We got it finished and waited for my mom to come pick me up, so both our moms could see the launch. We stuck a length of cannon fuse up the bung of the engine (no fancy-schmancy electric ignitions for us, no-siree) and awaited takeoff. When the spark hit the engine the rocket immediately tipped over and flew horizontal and hit Chuck right in the gut at a pretty high speed, and then spun around on the ground for a couple of seconds. Our moms panicked hysterically, and Chuck and I were pissing ourselves laughing. Chuck was fine, and we both became better engineers thanks to the tennis ball-sized welt he got on his belly.
We ended up converting the rocket into a rocket sled by drilling a hole through the nose cone and threading a coat hanger through the whole and bending it into a skid on either side. We sent it down the frozen river that winter, to our great amusement.
And such was a typical weekend in the life of 2 smart, curious, and mischievous lads back in the '70s. I don't think kids nowadays have such experiences, and they're the poorer for it.