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Showing results for tags 'Amphibian'.
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A build from 12 years ago: Beauty is sometimes a hidden quality that only needs just the right eyes to be discovered. Motive, on the other hand, may remain forever hidden when you think about the rationales that supported the creation of certain flying things. In any case, how can anybody resist the charm and flair of winged wonders like this one. The more you enter into the strange lands of esoteric designs, the less information is likely to easily appear. In this particular case there were no plans or three views, just a very few images available upon which you should muster enough building steam to arrive to a safe landing, which, be it said, wasn’t the case with the real plane. The Arctic Tern was a special-purpose plane created in 1932 to provide a photo platform to survey Alaskan regions, intended to be used by Shell in its explorations. As far as we know, it was really used to scare the pilot, passengers and bystanders, not to mention the occasional real arctic tern. Besides the pilot, cruelly semi-exposed to the elements, two enclosed positions were provided on top of the floats, with forward-leaping windscreens a la Fokker F.10s or earlier Boeing 247s. The real plane’s original wing was donated by a Lockheed Sirius, the tail by a Vega, being the engine a Wasp of imprecise denomination. The design unavoidably evokes the Savoia Marchetti S.55 and specially the Bleriot 125, among various other beautiful flying creatures. The model at a glance: Starting from the photos a drawing was sketched as a truly optimistic base for the ensuing construction. The floats came from a Sword Beech Staggerwing, which were slightly broadened with a sandwiched styrene sheet and later re-contoured. The front of the structures on top of the floats came from modified left over pants of the Matchbox Heyford. The engine, prop, main wheels and struts are from Aeroclub. Everything else was pretty much squeezed-out from the Fifth Dimension, including the Sculpey-made “upper” fuselage. I really do enjoy making these strange creatures of wonder, it feels like touching the unknown.
A build from 11 years ago: With very simple lines that somehow resemble a Renault 4 family car, the Caudron firm developed an amphibian prototype as a two-place, twin-float, all-metal touring amphibian in pusher configuration, using an inverted Renault 4 cylinder inline power plant. A few mods were made to the prototype during its life, most noticeable on the engine enclosure, according to photographic evidence. Both positions could pilot the plane, but usually one member of the crew was in charge of making the omelettes while the other took care of the croissants. The Plane was named Caudron P.V. 200, -P.V. for Pierre de Viscaya-. Remember that plans and three-views constitute, more than anything else, great decorative pieces, and when possible check them against photo documentation. To follow the model scratch-building sequence, use the provided images in order to get confused, and if any apparent mishaps are spotted, assume it is you who is mistaken. In all, more than a hundred and fifty individual parts were made for this apparently simple, boxy, floaty thing. Who knew. Modified Aeroclub generic floats, together with engine, wheels and prop from the same source were used. Considering that this was 1932, one could say that those French do know their design, don’t they? My Thanks to the late Jon Noble who provided a great deal of info that contributed to the making of this model. And now, for something completely different, another contribution to Reflections of a Troubled Modeler: Things to amuse yourself while building: - Make a puddle of super-glue to dip-in the needle used to attach a part. Immediately forget that you did that and, while holding some delicate assembly, put your hand on the puddle. - Variation of the precedent: use the top of a container to put some glue there. Forget about everything as previously described. Then place the model to rest exactly on that glue spot. Go and have a sandwich. Come back and lift the model, now with the attached container. Cry. Desperately try to figure out a way to make a diorama that will include, for some obscure reason, that container attached to the model. Cry again. - Finish the most delicate part of a model; let’s say a very tiny scratch-built engine. Contemplate it and congratulate yourself. Make a phone call, probably to a fellow modeler to brag about it; discretely, of course. When the moment arrives to install the engine, look for it in the finished parts’ container. Oh, that’s true, you left it somewhere else to make the call. Start to look in all the other containers. Then on the floor, fighting valiantly the carpet monster with your X-acto; then, cringing, look below heavy objects. In despair, go and look in the fridge, because you went there at some point too, remember? When midnight arrives and you have already dismantled your workshop looking for that tiny engine, give up and take a seat. Oops, what was that noise underneath your butt? - Build several models at the same time. Ha!, this time you finished them all. Start to take those pictures. While processing the images on your computer, suddenly notice the strange size of the wheels, propellers and the like on ALL the models. Scramble to detach the parts, swap them, and put them in their correct models; after all, you were struggling to glue them in the first place, remember? They kept falling off again and again. They may even be loose. Well, guess what, now they are firmly glued. As you pull off the prop, all the entrails of the models will come out attached to that prop. - Your building space is a mess. You decide to clean up. Ah, satisfaction; finally a clean and neat working surface. Now, where were those parts? Oh, they were there, where now there is nothing! Run desperately to rummage the trash can. AFTER you are done with your rummaging, somebody will tell you that the trash was already taken out. Run again outside your house, only to hear the sound of the garbage truck as it meanders down the street, blending with the crepuscular light that now sets on the scene.
A scratch from 10 years ago. “…Privateer, lowest priced amphibian of the world!” That’s what the advertisement stated in the early 30’s. They also added that was so easy to fly that even people like me could do it. I had to try it. I took-off from the dinner table making the appropriate sound, flew around the living room and alighted in the bathtub, first tucking the wheels under the wings, of course. They were right. Even I could fly it. Wheels, engine –Warner Scarab- and prop are after market items. The engine cowl ring was made of two laminations of styrene sheet on a tube of adequate diameter, streamlined once dry. Ready for a splash?
Having a break from painting (a wall not the plastic) I glanced at the stash and thought " why have I 3 biplanes and 2 Parsols when I hate rigging?"...and thus the story begins... Would it be sacrilege to wiff with a Matchbox Walrus? Probably not thanks to the Revell re-issue, albeit without the multicolored plastic we all love so dearly. ok so ideas now began to form in my crazy mind... Turn this: into this: From Turning to Burning. Or maybe this: Monoplane it (although Supermarine already beat me to this with the Seagull) Or a simpler: Just drop the rigging, and repaint in a new scheme wether alternative warbird or civi. Of course there other whacky options: 'gunship' - rockets, torpedos, turrets etc 'electric' - long before the EKA-3, predating the F3D-2Q, and making even the TBM-3Q seem positively modern. '2000' - well if Dornier can modernise their WW2 vintage boats... 'racer' - didn't a Walrus do a lap at Reno? Not looking like this... ...and I'm sure there more! Some things would be hampered by the rather bare stores box, others by the skill box - but nothing by the 'outside the box'