Iron Modeler

Category: Back in the day

  • Modeling Regression (Or How I Cured AMS)

    Do you ever look back on things you did as a kid?  Do you ever wish you could have a "Do Over"? 

    The other day, my wife was surfing eBay, looking at older model kits.  I glanced over at the the screen and immediately recognized a snapshot of a box.  The more she looked, the more kits I saw that sent me in the Wayback Machine to the mid-1970's.  A while later, I went over to the Old Plastic Model Kits website and did some surfing of my own.  Those images kept me in the '70s for a while longer…

    The first thing I checked out was the MPC Profile Series kits.  MPC marketed the Airfix line of 1/72 scale kits in the States back in the day, and they came up with the idea of tying the kits to the contemporary monograph series of the same name.  The kits differed from the standard Airfix/MPC fare by offering several decal options with each kit.  The box top was plain white with color profiles of the aircraft featured on the decal sheet.  When I used to go to Lionel Playworld, I would see these kits all over–there must have been a full aisle dedicated to them.  They were a little rich for my blood, and by the time I appreciated them for what they were, I was firmly established as a 1/48 scale man.  Shame, too–some of those kits still hold up today.

    Staying with MPC for a while, does anyone remember the "Pirates of the Caribbean" tie-in with the Walt Disney attraction at Disneyland and Walt Disney World?  MPC did a series of seven "Pirates" kits as well as a series of four kits tied to "The Haunted Mansion".  I built one of the "Pirates of the Caribbean" kits as a kid–I though that "Zap/Action!" feature was pretty neat…

    I was also good for a good number of the MPC car kits, AMT big rig kits (like the Kenworth W-925 Conventional from the TV series "Movin' On"), and a few Revell and Lindberg ships.  I recall building Revell's 1/426 scale USS Arizona a few times (and their 1/720 kit of the same ship once or twice, too), and Lindberg's 1/525 Essex-Class aircraft carrier, I believe in the USS Ticonderoga boxing.

    If you want to walk further into your youth, drive your browser over to Schiffer Publications and get copies of Remembering Revell Model Kits, Monogram Models, and Aurora Model Kits, all by Thomas Graham.  If those books don't stir up memories, nothing will.

    What is the purpose of this nostalgic walk in the park?  Just that–a refreshing trip down memory lane.  One of the comments I made to my wife–I think it was about an Aurora kit of the Piper Aztec C–was that back then, none of us (the kids on the block) really cared if the model was in some wierd off-scale.  None of us really cared if it was accurate.  All we knew is that it was kind of neat.  And we built them in the space of an afternoon, painted them, slapped the decals ("stickers" in those days) on, and if the model survived a week, we must not have been feeling well.  We played with them.  Only later did I become attuned to the research and historical aspects of modeling.  Those silly looking crosses, stars, bands, and circles actually meant something.  The colors the instruction sheet called out were done so in order for you to build a model of some famous pilot's airplane, or driver's race car.

    As I got older, the research aspect of a model became appealing.  I still like to do as much research as i can on any given subject before I build a model.  But I'm happy to say that I haven't fallen into the trap of being so wrapped up in minutiae that I don't build at all.  If I ever do, I have a sure-fire cure.  Read on… 

    If you happen to be one of those modelers who haven't touched a kit in months because you "can't find the reference on the color of the button fourth down from the right on the back-seater's left console", and are recognizing it for what it is (the dreaded Advanced Modeler's Syndrome, or AMS), here's a way to break the cycle–go to the local hobby shop (or even dig deep in your stash) and find one of those kits from your youth.  Build it.  Sure, you might be tempted to "bring it up to code", but don't.  Just build it.  Yes, you can fill seams, and airbrush the final color scheme.  Just don't get too wrapped around the axle about little things.

    I am thankful that Round Two Models has brought back the MPC, Polar Lights, and AMT kits (including the TV tie-ins); and J. Lloyd International has resurrected the Hawk Models line and revived the Lindberg line.  Moebius Models, too, has kept up with the Sci-Fi TV tie-ins from the '60s and '70s.  For as much as I enjoy building a good representation of an F-16 or Essex-Class aircraft carrier, I equally enjoy busting out the likes of a USNS Seaview from time to time, too…

    Whatever destination you seek, enjoy the journey.

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and I bid you Peace.

     

  • Modeling Memories

    I remember my first model.  My father bought home a Revell 1/32 scale F4F Wildcat kit.  He had built models as a kid–he contracted Rheumatic Fever as was pretty much bedridden for a year.  As a diversion, he built balsa wood models.  He wanted me to enjoy the hobby, too, I guess, so he bought the Wildcat.  He and I read the instruction sheet a few times, and he explained to me that in order to build the model correctly, I had to follow the directions in order.  We started to build the model–he had bought some paints, too (if memory serves, one of the Testor's PLA Enamel sets), so we painted the cockpit parts in colors close to what the instructions called out.  What's Chromate Green?  Well, we had a green color, so that worked.  The first night, we painted the parts, then set everything aside to dry overnight.  Actually, I think we put the kit and supplies on top of the refrigerator…

    We would build a little bit each night.  With each step completed, I could see an airplane start to emerge from that bunch of plastic parts.  Some steps I could do myself; others I would get Dad to help me with.  After about a week–I'm not quite sure, as I was young at the time–we had a nearly finishe model.  We couldn't find the hole in the wing where the pitot tube was supposed to go, so Dad took the tip of the hobby knife and made one.  When everything was glued together, we set the model aside, again, to dry.  

    The next night was paint night.  I helped paint the model to match the pictures on the box.  Dad explained to me that it was better to apply a thin coat of paint, let it dry, then apply another coat.  Above all, he said, we needed to let it dry overnight…

    The following evening we applied the decals, and "my" first model was finished.  The model was placed on the bookshelf for all to see and admire.  To this day, though, I don't remember what became of the model–we moved not too long after, so I suppose it must have been damaged in the move.  No matter, it wouldn't be my last model…

    There's something refreshing about that story–I built a model, spent time with my Dad, and wasn't worried if the final product wasn't perfect.  Later, as we got older, Dad helped my brother and I each purchase a Guillow's balsa wood kit (I think I got the Cessna 170 and my brother got the Piper Cherokee) and he assisted us in building–well, almost building–them.  He would remind us that the balsa wood kits were his kind of modeling, and that we had it easy with those plastic kits to which I, for one, had become addicted.  I don't think either of those Guillow's kits got built, but he'd go on about the plastic kits we'd build, telling us that if we were real model builders we'd tackle a wood kit–yet to anyone who would listen, we were the family's artistes-in-waiting.

    Later on, I would buy and build Guillow's 3/4" scale Spitfire (it didn't fly, I built it as a static model), and my brother built a Dumas boat kit, which was waiting for a motor and radio control gear when he discovered BMX and Daisy's contribution to settling the Old West.

    Dad's gone now.  I don't think my brother has touched a plastic model kit since about ten years ago when we (my brother, my wife, my nephew, and I) got together and built (what else?) Snap-Tite kits.  My nephew was seven or eight at the time, and I don't think he's taken up the hobby (habit?)–he's been exposed to it, so he knows what it is about.  Each of us has seen and participated in the hobby, even of that time was brief. 

    We will always have those memories of how we were each introduced to the hobby.

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and I bid you Peace.  

     

  • A cold January day in 1986

    If you’re an over-30, you probably remember the morning of 28 January 1986.  I certianly do–I was still in college in Daytona Beach.  Non-Floridians assume that Florida is always a warm, sunny paradise, year round.  Well, not exactly–Central and North Florida can get quite cold, as witnessed that cold January day.

    When I got ready to head to class, the temperature seems to be subzero–remember, I’m from South Florida, and at the time didn’t tolerate cold very well.  In contrast, my roommate at the time was a Michigander, who didn’t think it was all that cold, and therefore refused to run the heat.  I figured that I’d be a school most of the day anyway, so I got ready, had something to eat, and left.

    By that time, launch apathy had set in–again–with the general public.  We were aware there was a launch scheduled, but didn’t think much of it since they’d done this a few times before with no issues.  I got to school, ran some errands, and headed off to class, which was an electronics lab.  We were in the middle of our lesson for the day when someone remembered the launch.  We all filed outside and waited.  It seemed to be even colder than it was when we all arrived.  From Daytona Beach, you can get a fair view of the launches, especially the exhaust plumes from the solid boosters.

    “There it is”, someone called out.  We all panned our eyes to the spot he was indicating, and sure enough, there was the cotton-like plume, topped by small dots of orange flame.  Once we locked on, we tracked the plume skyward.  Everything looked like the previous times we had watched, but them something strange happened–the plume split into two.  Those two snakes of smoke started to gyrate wildly through the sky, tracing individual paths curling around what had been the trajectory of the vehicle.  We quickly went inside to catch the news on the radio.

    “Flight controllers here looking very carefully at the situation…Obviously a major malfunction. We have no downlink.”  Those were the words we heard from Steve Nesbitt, NASA’s Public Affairs officer.  Bits and pieces started to circulate–had the Shuttle exploded?  No, someone said, it managed to escape and ditch.  Sure?  No, nobody was sure–of anything.  Seeing as a major historical event was unfolding before us, we quickly finished up with the day’s labs and headed home.

    I reached the apartment and flipped the TV on–and turned on the heat, too, much to the later chagrin of my roommate.  Now, back in 1986, if you didn’t have cable you had limited news sources–NBC, ABC, CBS, and PBS.  The NBC affiliate (WESH) was usually the better of the group in Central Florida at the time, so I parked it there for a while.  Slowly, the details began to be discovered.  At some point, around 70 seconds into the launch, the shuttle stack had either exploded or had broken up.  Why?  At the time, concerns were placed on the fact that the vehicle had reached Max Q, or maximum aerodynamic forces.  Had these forces broken the ship apart?  Then, word got out that maybe the external tank had ruptured, causing the fireball.  The one thing all of the news outlets knew for certain was that the stack–orbiter, solid boosters, and external tank–had disintegrated in mid air, and the crew, while not recovered, was now feared dead.

    The day ran in slow motion.  Like most things of this nature, the reports became repetitive.  Even switching between the networks got to the point of being pointless.  By that evening, more details were known–the vehicle had broken up, the crew was dead, and nobody knew anything beyond that.  The nation went into mourning for the group of astronauts now known as “The Challenger Seven”.

    As time wore on, investigations would turn up the smoking gun in the form of O-Rings, flexible donuts of rubber or synthetic material used to seal the joints between sections of the solid boosters.  While that was shocking enough, the other shoe soon dropped–the manufacturer of the booster knew that the O-Rings were having reliability issues, and knew that cold temperatures exacerbated the situation.  Awash in criticism, NASA could ill-afford another delayed launch, so collectively–and in some cases, reluctantly–the launch was given the okay.

    Every year I recall with great clarity the events of that cold January day.  Every year I wonder what would have happened had the launch been delayed.  But, history has a way of making one wonder.

    This week, remember not only the Challenger Seven, but the crew of the Shuttle Columbia who died almost 17 years to the day later on 1 February 2003 when the orbiter broke up on reentry.  Remember the three astronauts of Apollo 1, who died fifty years ago yesterday in a fire during a pre-lauch test.  Remember, too, those astronaut candidates who died before they ever reached space–men like Elliot See and Charlie Bassett who died when their T-38 crashed at the McDonnell aircraft plant in St. Louis.  There were others who pushed the limit, too–men like Michael Adams, who died in a crash of the X-15.  They all dreamed big….

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and I bid you peace.