I Have a Secret
There’s a Bearhawk in my basement
I’VE BEEN SNEAKING AWAY to the basement all winter spending most
of my flying money on sheet metal.
That’s right, I’ve started building an airplane—something that
feels a bit surreal and strange to admit even after nine months of
forming ribs. Building a plane in the basement isn’t the strange part.
It’s me building that’s the strange part.
There are many people who make natural builders. I’m not one of
them. I’ve never welded or riveted and to this day have not completed a single model airplane. The handiest thing I’ve done before
this project was mowing the yard. I’ll be the first to admit I don’t
have an engineer’s mind or carpenter’s hands, but I do have an
intense desire to learn, explore, create, and work on meaningful and
rewarding projects. That is why I’m building a plane.
If you’re like me and didn’t grow up
with a wrench in your hand, don’t be so
quick to dismiss the idea of homebuilding
like I had. There’s hope, a whole world of
support, and hours of fun awaiting you. And
I mean many hours.
As a new pilot who has drunk the aviation
Kool-Aid, there’s no turning back now. I’m
an aviator for life. That being said, I’ve
been in a predicament the last couple
years. Renting an airplane my entire life