Flights Of Fancy

On

a brilliant fall Saturday in New York State, the surface of Congers Lake reflects the small airplane motoring above it, rolling left, flipping over, circling in a Cuban Eight, then gliding effortlessly through the October wind. "Flying straight like that is very delicate," offers one nervous spectator. "He has the bare minimum amount of wind under his wings. If he gets it wrong, that plane will crash, straight down. You won't see it again."

Panic does not seize the day, though--not least because the pilot, an expert, is standing coolly on the ground, dual-levered radio transmitter in hand, 500 ft. below the aerobatics. Meet George Messetler, 80, the diminutive, elegant "grandfather" of the Rockland County Radio Control Flyers. Each week Messetler and other like-minded aviators in his 130-member model-plane flying club meet on a field and fly mini-airplanes they have constructed. They console one another when they crash. They grill burgers, give one another unsolicited aviation advice, show off for their wives and, if the wind is right...

"I call it my mental therapy because I have to be so precise," says Messetler, a former toolmaker for the jet-blade industry. "It helps me with straight thinking, because I have to anticipate the next move. At my age, you can sit back and watch TV--but that's no good. This is important, because I constantly keep learning."

Model-plane flyers--and there are lots of them--are a passionate breed. The brainy but little-known hobby has been on the rise in the past five years. Last year membership in the 64-year-old Academy of Model Aeronautics, the hobby's sanctioning body, grew by 6%, the largest increase ever. Some 2,500 clubs across the country meet regularly at lakes, small fields and grand minirunways. Though the flyers start as young as age 6, the hobby is especially popular with retired men. More than half of the AMA's 165,000 members are male and 50 or older. (Women make up just 2%.)

"It requires a certain commitment of time and money, and it can also be pretty complex," says John Hood, a retired physics professor and member of the 200-strong First Weedwackers Aero Squadron in Lakeside, Calif. "The older guys have the time to pursue it really vigorously."

Flying is a complicated business. The planes, made of balsa wood and plastic, range in style from stable training craft to detailed scale planes that replicate the real thing. They weigh from 10 lbs. to 125 lbs. and cost anywhere from $350 for a basic set to more than $4,000. There are gas-powered planes (more powerful but noisier) and newer electric ones. There's sport flying (for the fun of it) and competition, as well as combat flying, float flying (above water) and pattern aerobatics.

Some flyers, particularly those with full-time jobs, buy the newer, almost-ready-to-fly models. But for the retired, building is often half the fun. Depending on the flyer and method--some eschew kits, using their own wood and blueprints--the building process can take months or even years. Scale planes, with gauges, instruments and minipilots, can be especially labor intensive.

And then there's learning to get the things off the ground. Instructors say that because the two levers have many functions, it takes novice adults an average of a year to become comfortable at the helm. Tenacity is key. Says Rockland County wingman Walter Witko, 74: "One second of lost focus, and you can crash. So in this sport, you build 'em, you fly, you crash 'em, you rebuild 'em, and you fly again."

Why go to so much trouble? Enthusiasts cite the beauty of flight, the control and the sheer delight of seeing one's handiwork airborne. Many hail from the aviation industry. First Weedwackers president Fred Miller, 61, a former Navy pilot, says that once he had the hang of the levers, he had memory flashbacks: "It's a strange phenomenon, but with the heavier ones, I can almost feel what the plane is doing up there. You get immediate feedback when you pull back the stick." For others, flying is a source of calm. "It's like yoga," says New Yorker Al Betancourt, 63. "When you're concentrating on maneuvers or the gust of wind, you have a perfect connection with the plane. You're at peace."

Sometimes, of course, actual flying takes a backseat to more important matters--like chatting. Larry Picarello, 48, a member of two clubs, including the Rockland County flyers, says there are days club members don't bother taking their equipment out of the truck: "The first thing that comes out--the most important piece of equipment--is a chair." The old-timers aren't the only ones who appreciate the camaraderie. Picarello, a stay-at-home dad, meets the guys for meals even if the weather looks bad. "It's great for me," he says. "These guys are real gentlemen. They are endlessly patient, they answer a million pesky questions--and they never say no."

That attitude bodes well for future generations, who can learn that old-time aviation. Picarello recently took on a 10-year-old protege. The little whippersnapper picked it up in just three lessons.