23 BHP (17 kW), 145 km / hr top speed, tow-hitch and reclining seats - the perfect means of transport for carrying myself, a model helicopter and a pit-box to the flying site. The nose of the Twin Jet fitted in the passenger seat footwell, the fin next to the headrest, while the safety belt held the fuselage securely, wrapped round the dome. Luckily my Fiat 126 had reclining seats, as the plan would not have worked without winding the passenger seat back.
As I mentioned, the Fiat also had a tow-hitch, and this was pressed into service when it was time for a barbecue at the flying site. I had a tiny trailer - just large enough to take a cool-box, a camping table and a little chair. There was no room for these paraphernalia on the back seat of the car; that was where my pit-box was stowed - behind the driver's seat.
My love for this car knew no bounds, and it carried me more than 90,000 km without problems. All it demanded of me was a regular trip to the garage for its annual certificate, and an occasional new distributor cap. As the daughter of a manual worker, I was reasonably conversant with the handling of tools; after all, even as a little girl I found it much more interesting to use a vice and a hammer than to play with the usual doll's house. Even so, the part of my car under the bonnet only really became familiar to me when I started to immerse myself in model helicopters.
I shall never forget my experience at the Freilassing flying site. It was only intended to be a visit, although I did have my helicopter with me. I really just wanted to fly a circuit or two, as I felt that my Twin Jet would enjoy sniffing the air in a different part of the world.
There was a competition under way that weekend, but how could anyone have dreamed for a moment that I would want to take part in it? Certainly not me! Oh well, I have to admit that I had already tried flying figures-of-eight around poles. But "having a go" hardly constitutes proper preparation for a competition.
Well, to cut a long story short, I allowed somebody to persuade me that the time was right: that the moment had arrived for taking part in my first competitive event.
It's not a great idea to jump into deep water if you can't swim, and I felt as if I had not yet even dipped the tip of one toe in it. Flying from A to B, maintaining a constant height, landing exactly in the centre of a marked square, and making the transition into a horizontal M or vertical O - all this I had learned in just eight months of flying; after all, had I not been practising endlessly after work, and every Saturday and every Sunday? However, the poles seemed to have a slightly malicious air about them: from one figure-of-eight to the next the poles seemed to move closer all the time, and my nerves were stretched to the point of snapping.
If only they had been wooden poles, and not metal ones - they looked and felt like solid fence posts - perhaps the damage to my tail rotor might have been less severe. Anyway, I would certainly have appreciated a slightly less abrupt end to my flight
Damage appraisal? I didn't even want to know what had happened to my Twin Jet, and let others carry out the examination. All I wanted was a chance to sit down and recover from the excitement, so I headed off to the clubhouse. There I found a pleasant elderly gent in charge of the refreshments, and he immediately gave me a very warm welcome, commenting that he had never seen anyone fly with their knees knocking together so hard as me; it was clearly visible over the considerable distance to the flying area.
After the event it was time for a deep breath and the final reckoning: no - I don't mean the competition results, I mean an estimate of the cost of the repair. It looked like I was due for a bill of around 70.00 DM, and that took a load off my mind!
At the end of the day Toni Brunner handed me a certificate and a cup for taking part in this, my first competition, and I was delighted. My path was now clear: the ice was broken, and my new passion was for contest flying.
