I had been spin testing a Mercury Chic for several weeks, doing
everything at a safe and sane altitude, being very scientific. I finally
spun it in from an altitude of about three feet. And I mean spun it in
too. The ship was a complete washout.
There was a strong wind that day, and a very gusty one. When I taxied
out for the take-off the wind was on my tail. There were no brakes on
the ship. It was very light, and in addition, a high wing job--always a
top-heavy thing in a wind.
The wind kept swinging me around into it, and I wanted to go the other
way. I should have called a couple of mechanics from the line to come
and hold my wings and help me taxi. But I was proud or stubborn or dumb
or something that day.
I adopted a little strategy. I'd get the ship all lined up down wind and
when the wind would start swinging me around the other way I'd just let
it swing until the nose was headed almost into the wind. Then I would
gun it, kick rudder with the swing, thus aggravating it instead of
checking it, hoping to get my way by going with it instead of fighting
it, and then, when it was headed down wind again, try to hold it there
until the next gust started swinging me around again.
It worked fine, and I was making a certain amount of headway down the
field until, on one of the swings, a particularly heavy gust of wind
picked up my outside wing as I was swinging. The ship tipped up very
slowly, and I thought I was going to tip a wing. Then a larger and
heavier gust hit it. It picked that ship off the ground, turned it over
on its back and literally threw it down on the ground.
It was the worst crack-up I had ever been in. All four longerons were
broken, the wings crumpled, the motor mount was twisted, the prop bent,
the tail crushed, and the ship looked like it had spun in from at least
ten thousand feet.
I crawled out from under it unhurt except for my feelings. I never felt
so foolish in my life. I had cracked up a ship without even flying it.