They're handing out a free lunch today at the company cafeteria, not for the
approaching holiday but to celebrate the 100th anniversary of powered
flight.
Though I notice the menu includes turkey or ham, mashed
potatoes and pie, and the decor is red and green tinsel. It's an interesting way
to avoid all the religious implications of a holiday lunch.
Not that
most people around here care. There's a natural affinity between engineers and
free food; I think it may come from all those years of physics professors
preaching the TANSTAAFL principle. ("There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch".)
Of course technically speaking there isn't, but I can deal with the resulting
$2 less in my paycheck for the year. As a result, people are lined up outside
the cafeteria (which is right across from my office) for about 100 yeards. I'm
hoping the line will eventually abate somewhat.
I do care about the
hundredth anniversary of powered flight, though; it's influenced my life a lot
more than just to the extent of one mediocre meal on the company. At my Sweet
Sixteen when everyone else chose puppies and kittens and harlequins for their
themes, I had mine in the 94th Aerosquadron restaurant and drew little biplanes on
each of 80 invitations. (I can still whip out a cartoon biplane in 20 seconds
flat.) In college when the other women had posters of puppies or kittens or
Patrick Swayze, I had airplanes. (Though I always say I'm the ideal audience for
the movie Top Gun because I enjoy both the fast planes *and* the half-naked
men playing volleyball.) I majored in mechanical engineering instead of aerospace
engineering only so I could work in aerospace but would theoretically be emplyable
in a broader range of fields in case of a downturn, but I have worked in aerospace
for the majority of my career so far. I've worked on the actual aircraft or the
simulators (not home computer games, the highly complex ones made of actual parts
used to train actual pilots and astronauts) for the AH-1W, F16, Spacelab, Space
Shuttle, Space Station, A-10, C-130, Longbow Apache, and Boeing 777. I've flown
the Cessna 152, 172 and 182, Piper SuperCub, Warrior and Archer, Great Lakes
biplane, Pitts S2-B, and Diamond Katana. I've flown simulators for the A-10, F-16,
C-130, Space Shuttle, Airbus A-320, and Boeing 737.
In other words, I
owe Wilbur and Orville a lot. Powered flight was clearly an idea whose time had
come; if they hadn't worked it out someone else would have. But the fact remains
that they -- two bicycle mechanics and bike shop owners -- did work it out in
practice when all the eminent scientists working on the problem couldn't. They
combined the newest lightweight engines with an effective means of controlling
movement in all three axes (pitch, roll, and yaw, or x, y, and z), the lack of
which had killed several other would-be aviators. They figured out how to overcome
the torque from the prop, by having two counter-rotating propellers. They taught
themselves to fly it, not trivial even in that simplest airplane -- especially
since no one then knew anything about how to do it. They weren't lucky;
they were careful, methodical, and brilliant, not to mention brave enough to fly
the fledgling craft -- a look at thenumber of deaths in early aviation shows just
how brave. They didn't get much money for quite a while afterwards, and even had
their contributions downplayed by Glenn Curtiss, Langley at the Smithsonian, and
others who stole their ideas. Orville did eventually win his patent battles and
credit had been restored where it belongs. I owe Orville and Wilbur a lot; I hope
their spirits are still soaring over the dunes somewhere where there are no wrecks
and no patent infringements.