OK, now I've finally got a few minutes. Kids are in bed, and my wife hasn't gotten home from work yet.
As I mentioned in the thread opener, I've got a special bond with the Screamer, to the point that it's remarkable I haven't cloned one until now, about 18 months into my BAR life.
It all started in the mid to late 1970s. I had never heard of model rocketry. But at camp, as a ~10 year old, I saw an option called "Model Rocketry" present in our Choosing Time period (after lunch, we got to pick what to do for an hour or so). But alas, it was a "closed" session, as you had to sign up for it during the first week of camp. It was held every Thursday during Choosing time. One of my friends was in it, though, and told me about it. Sounded cool.
A year passed. Next summer, I begged and pleaded to my parents to get me to camp EXTRA EARLY so I could be among the lucky 10 kids to sign up for the class on that critical first Thursday. My wonderful Mom drove me to camp (skipping carpool) and got me there an hour early. I ran down the hall to the Choosing time signup board. I barely made it... I was number 9 out of 10! But close enough is CLOSE ENOUGH. I was in.
I could barely contain myself that morning and hardly ate any lunch. I then sprinted up to the shop where the class was held. The guy introduced the concept with a little lecture with props, and passed out kits. They were numbered, and we were assigned a random number, so there would be no arguing about which kit we got. He was cool enough but didn't suffer whiny kids (so, why work at a camp? :shock: ).
Anyway, I got the Screamer. I was at first disappointed, as it was the smallest kit, the BT-5 minimum diameter one in the batch. Of course, at the time I didn't know what BT-5 was, or minimum diameter... All the kids had simple 3/4FNC type rockets. I imagine there were Alphas and the like. Probably the biggest were BT-55 with 18mm mounts. I remember the leader showed us a Der Red Max ("COOL!") and one day he pulled out an Andromeda. Of course, there were a couple Big Berthas on the shelf.
Anyway, I got some ribbing. While other kids were assembling 18mm motor mounts I was just putting a little thrust ring into my dinky little thin body tube :sad:
Each Thursday after a short build session we would go out an launch a few of the ones he already had. It was a blast, literally. We all learned how to pack a chute or streamer, insert engines and those awful old ignitors, you know the drill.
Finally, my bright orange with mangled decals and fins not-quite-straight Screamer was ready. It was maiden launch day for the bunch of us who had built. We went to the field and --I'm not making this up!!-- kicked a pickup soccer game off our turf.
We all got engines that fit our rockets. I believe all of us got A engines. The details are a bit hazy, but I remember us launching, one after the other. A couple launches required a few ignitors to get going, but all were successful.
I was the last to go that day. Remember, most of the prior birds had launched on 18mm A engines, and one or two were 13mm non-minimum-diameter rockets. So imagine how all of us felt, when I put my dinky little Screamer on the pad, and sent it up on an A. The performance was incredible at the time. It just teleported off the pad in the a way none of the others did. The group of kids, all boys as I recall, just stood there. I got some pats on the back.
I never made fun of my little Screamer again. I got to launch it again once or twice at camp, then took it home.
It was my pride an joy, banged up though it was, until my dog, Tinker, chewed it to bits. :kill: I loved that dog, but oh he made me so mad that day.
By this time I was say 12 years old or so, and I was so upset my parents bought me a new rocket for my birthday, and a pack of engines. The rocket was a Condor, with the little attached glider. Not exactly a suitable second build, but I did manage to get it together with some help from dear old Dad.
HE built me a pad, and we used one of those big old batteries and some wire with aligator clips. Old-school!
Believe it or not, the thing flew well, and I was hooked... The rest is history. It all comes down to that Screamer, which in itself took me a year to come to, and another year to lose, before I took up rocketry as a hobby outside of camp.
Ah, fond memories!
Marc