Life in Plastic (Styrene, specifically)

Nesting fail.

My swallow friends got this far:

Before he who rules the patio and garage at night halted progress in a spectacular way.

Sometimes it's very difficult being a fan of both birds and cats. They just never, ever mix.

This is McGregor, another feline that came to us when we lived out in the country.17 pounds at his last vet visit. He's a big boy. He arrived as an adult one winter. He obviously needed friends. How long he was on his own is anyone's guess. His coat felt kind of like a shell, it was so matted. There was no getting around taking a pair of scissors and slowly cutting it off, little bit by little bit. He didn't mind the attention, but he looked semi-skinned afterward for awhile. Obviously he's recovered. Wonder if he dreams about his days as a wanderer?  Wonder if he looks for more swallows in the garage these nights. The last one was probably a lot of fun...

You care what I think? Oh pah-leeez!

A guy got a little defensive over my comments on intake/exhaust covers on models a post or so ago. (He didn't make his comments here on my blog where they belong.) I really don't know who he is nor what his models look like, but for some reason this dude came on like he'd been singled out. All I can say to him and anyone else in sight of this word processing is, "Do what makes you happy!" DO NOT build models that are meant to please a grumpy old bastard such as myself. Take me seriously? Who am I? Someone who knows models,likes to write, has opinions, and spends a few bucks each month to keep this little stand open 24/7. And why would I do that? One word: Entertainment. Yours and mine.

Here is something that hangs prominently in my "studio":

It's a Christmas gift from one of my sisters and says it all for me. Anyone who wants to be offended by what I say here about models, keep it in perspective. If you want to let your plastic handiwork define who you are, hang with that artiste crowd. My blog is aimed at a...I don't know...more down-to-earth crowd? Please, God, a more light-hearted crowd?

This incident got me thinking about exactly what I have against sealed aircraft orifices. It's this: Airplanes to me are action machines. Though they regrettably spend most of their lives earthbound, they are most interesting to me barreling down a runway, sucking up their gear, punching through clouds, screaming into the range at 50 feet, slow rolling in front of the crowd...and on and on. So much of their appeal to me is in their movement. Their shape in motion. What kind of movement would you expect from an airplane fitted with dopey covers? Oh, maybe movement provided by a tractor pulling it into a hangar at bedtime. Big whoop. Yes it may be a factual part of its existence, but if you have an option, why portray that configuration? I get drowsy just imagining it.

I feel the same way about folded wings on navy airplanes. Yuk. What a grand way to make an airplane look like some kind of machine. Of course that's what it is, but I want to see it configured for its higher purpose. I mean ready to go, or on its way someplace with covers, and those equally maddening Remove Before Flight ribbons removed. (Oh boy. Now who have I pissed-off?)

God knows there are modelers who are attracted to the airplane asleep presentation. Or airplane on the operating table with panels open and guts exposed. GREAT! Simply don't expect me to give it a second glance on a contest table or in an on-line image gallery. It just goes against my personal grain.

New (attempting to be) residents

Got a pair of these attempting to build a nest in the garage. Took me a while to figure out what the hell they were. Not barn swallows -- had a number of pairs of those build nests in the garage of the old place. Beautiful little birds those. A mob would arrive after we cut the grass in the summer and the huge backyard would become the scene of amazing air shows. Not chimney swifts -- some of those have been zipping around here for the past few summers. Love to watch those little buggers speed overhead. They're medium altitude performers where the barn swallows were low altitude. Really low.

I wish them luck. They'll need to get used to activity below them and a big cat that has the garage and enclosed patio at night. If they make a successful go at it, I'll try to get some pictures.

 

Look at my panel lines!

Friend of mine sent me a link to a recently posted model of an F-16 that demonstrated superbly the trend of many modelers who build something -- doesn't matter what -- simply to demonstrate their prowess at making panel lines appear to leap off the subject. (I should post the link, but I won't. Why be cruel to either the perpetrator OR visitors to my blog? Besides this style of model finishing is anything but rare, more's the pity.) My friend, not a serious modeler, wanted to know, WTF? (Oh, and the icing on the cake so far as I'm concerned, was bright red intake and exhaust covers on said F-16.)

My reply:

Yeah, that's pretty horrible. I've developed a theory about this, and it came to me when I stumbled across a particularly heavy lined set of three view drawings. Could it be that modelers, constantly referring to drawings as their reference material, come to believe they have to make the model look like the drawing? Of course, with a drawing being nothing but lines, what do you do?

I'd love to know what would happen if tomorrow, all the line drawings in the world disappeared and modelers were left with only photos or the actual machines they were miniaturizing to refer to.

I've heard another school of thought that you HAVE to do this sort of thing to a model or it looks too plain...it looks like a model. I say to them, and what the hell does this F-16 look like? You can't possibly tell me "the real thing." To my eyes it looks like a cartoon of a model.

Plus, I really hate intake and exhaust covers. What they say to me is the modeler was too lazy to take care of the seams on the intakes. "They add a little color."  Lame comment. If you want color, build an airliner.

Bottom line: My judgement is take a hammer to that poor F-16 and put it out of its misery.

SNJ/T-6 tubs

You simply wouldn't believe how I had to psyche myself up to do these. Having convinced myself I hate doing interiors, the Monogram T-6/SNJ represented the worst case scenario: complicated times two. Amazingly (to me) once I forced myself to the bench and began the work, I sort of got into it.

I may have forgotten what it's like to see plastic airplane front office kind of come to life under a paint brush. It's neat.

Replaced the kit seats with True Detail P-47 seats just so I wouldn't have to make belts. Way easier to paint molded ones than make your own then paint them. Though not nearly as accurate as it could be, the Monogram cockpit is busy enough for a convincing quick look under the canopy.

A death in the family.

15 years ago, we lived in a country setting, surrounded by corn and soy bean fields. I normally would run about four miles a day down mostly empty, straight dirt roads. About a quarter of a mile from the house was a small creek, and on this particular day, I headed out in that direction. I almost reached the creek when I heard a bird squawk I didn't recognize. What the hell was that? I stopped to hear clearly and maybe spot the bird. Out of the weeds emerged a tiny, scrawny, homely black kitten. That's what was making the noise. It came right up to my feet and continued to squawk. Though it looked exactly like what I'd expect a feral kitten to look like, it sure didn't act feral. Though it absolutely did not want to be picked up, neither did it want to let me get away from it. I looked a bit for siblings that may not be so extroverted, but I found none. Could someone just have tossed this little thing out a car window in close to the middle of nowhere and driven off? What other explanation was there? It was anything but afraid of me. Now what? Well, the run ended for the day at a quarter mile, and I walked back home with a black kitten trying it's best to trip me. Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow it said. I tried to avoid getting tangled with it and said, "You poor wee puss."

I called my wife with a "guess what" story. At the time we had two adult dogs and two adult cats. We were not looking to expand the family and though I couldn't ignore this little black thing (I'm a cat person to the bone, by the way) it was going to be a problem. I did determine it was female. By the time Molly got home from work, she'd christened it, sight unseen, Grace.

Grace imprinted on me the way a duckling does with its mama. It was adorable at first, but got a little annoying after a day and a half. By day two, it was Molly who asked, "Can we keep her?" That was a no-brainer for me.

Though Grace was her name on all the vet records, she remained from day one, "Wee Puss." (Pronounced Poose.) She was da Poose, Pooskin, Wee-wee-wee, Miss th' Poose, Lidda-Wee-Poose and eventually, Spoose. Spoo-ee. I was her person, and she stole my heart. What the hell was her story? What were the odds of our crossing paths the way we did? What if I ran to the west instead of the north that day? She'd probably have been a snack for an owl.

She was never a beauty, but became a sleek, compact little Halloween kind of icon. She and I bonded tightly. My workshop was an upper bedroom of the house and she quickly learned where to find me. The most memorable demonstration of -- devotion? -- she exhibited was the day she climbed the chimney to...I don't know why she did it. Boredom? Had something she needed to tell me? Was damned hungry? I heard her outside my window making a fuss and looked out to see this.

That might not look too notable, until you view a different angle.

Arrow points to the Poose. How in the flyin' you-know-what did she scale that brick?! Straight up! Was she part squirrel? Your guess is as good as mine. I had to get the extension ladder to bring her back to earth. My Poose was something else.

A year or so later, she vanished one night. She and her other cat buds spent the nights outside and by then the four of them would all be waiting on the porch in the morning to come in for breakfast. One morning, she was not there. The next four mornings, she was not there. I was sick. She was MIA and quite likely KIA. There were predators in the neighborhood. I biked up and down the road looking for a dark shape, but found nothing. She was gone, and I was nowhere close to saying good-bye to her -- even if she was present to say good-bye to. Molly and I were resigned to our loss. Then near the end of the fifth day, I spotted my dark shape in our garage. She looked slightly thinner, but made no fuss whatever. Like: Well, yeah, I'm home. This is where I live, remember?

Another mystery never to be solved. She was there on the porch for breakfast every morning afterward until we moved in 2005.

Seven years later, she wore out. They do that, and take chunks of one's heart with them to cat heaven, or wherever they end up. Miss you, Spoose. Thanks for jumping out of those weeds so long ago.

Going Public

The very first place any of my models were seen outside of my neighborhood or school classroom was at the nearby shopping mall. It was a brand new landmark christened Universal City. In its heyday there were three different stores under its big roof that stocked plastic model kits. Naturally I tried to visit as often as I could. Not long after its opening, (I was 10 or 11) they put out the call to the general public to take advantage of their open central courtyard and display examples of whatever one did as a hobby. My mother brought this opportunity to my attention. I was proud of my models and hot to show them off. I picked what I thought were my four best (the freshest off the production line, probably) and with my folks, delivered them in boxes to the hobby display officials. There were three single-engine WWII prop fighters (pretty sure one was a Revell C.R.42) and a Monogram Bf.110.

The display was a Saturday/Sunday thing and naturally the Hawkey family had to stop by to see my contributions. My quartet were the only models of any type to be seen. That pathetic little foursome swept the category. I can still see them all alone with the '110 dominating on sparsely covered tables. Though the experience was hugely positive for me, I believe the show in general was a flop. I know there was never an encore performance put on by Universal City.

Seeing my models was a thrill in itself, but the icing on the cake for me was that all participants received small gift certificates good at any of Universal City's many stores. Mine was for $2 and I took it straight to the mall's hobby shop. I swapped my certificate for an Airfix SBD and OS2U (fresh in MPC boxes with the chrome "custom detail" sprue, and flamboyant, totally useless decals) and a can of Testors Dullcoat spray. Man, talk about a happy kid!

My second public performance was much more significant to me. I was probably 14 and becoming a regular visitor to the original Squadron Shop. Half the time I would get there via my dad, whose interest in model planes was warming up again with exposure to this serious model shop. Walt Lonczinski  and Jerry Campbell were the two main guys behind the counter in those days. (Walt was the front man while Jerry was mostly in the back on the phone or seeing to mail order.) Walt blew my young mind one visit when he asked if I'd be interested in building a model for the store. Don't know why I was given the offer as they'd not seen any of my "work" before. Maybe it was to humor the most frequent kid customer and score some points with his dad.

The subject was a Lindberg 1/48 F-104. Walt gave me the kit and a couple A.I.R. decal sheets (national insignia and black letters/numbers/ANG stuff) and the instructions, "Just put it together and paint it. Nothing fancy. We just want to see what one of those looks like built."

My first commission job! I got home and dove into a free model airplane kit. Following instructions, I gave it a no-frills finish of overall ADC gray (I guess you'd call it -- light gray at any rate) and nervously returned with the finished piece the following week.

No big fuss was made, as none was deserved. They got what they wanted. The gray Starfighter was parked in the back row of a bottom shelf in a display case where it could be seen if one looked for it. That was that. I had a model in the Squadron Shop!

Naturally I had to give it a look every time I visited thereafter, but I had no illusions that it really belonged in the Squadron Shop. This was where the world-class stuff came to roost. My goal was to one day produce a model which did belong at eye-level on an upper shelf in one of those sparkling big display cases, but that day was four years in the future.

Before that day arrived, the Starfighter went missing. Don't know when I noticed its absence and I certainly didn't ask about it. Victim of some house cleaning, no doubt. Maybe they sold it to a Starfighter fan for a couple bucks. At any rate, it served its purpose and was no great loss.

 

Guest Spot -- Stuka-style

Good friend and frequent commenter here, Tory Mucaro, has the spotlight at the moment.

I've had this kit in my collection for at least 15, possibly closer to 20
years. It was something I had built in my youth, maybe when I was 12-13 years
old. I've always wanted to have another crack at it and when I found one in a
NYC hobby shop (back when there were NYC hobby shops!) I bought it on the spot.
It was part of an estate sale, can't remember what I paid for it but it couldn't
have been very much, maybe $20.

These old Revell 1/32 kits were known for
operating features and removable engine panels with fairly detailed engines. I
decided to build this one straight out of the box, leaving all the operating
features. The canopies slide, propeller turns and engine cowlings come off to
show the decently detailed Jumo engine. This particular aircraft has been
debated for years, was the snake actually red or desert sand colored, was it
painted on both sides, what colors were used in the camouflage, etc. Since
nothing is known with any certainty, I decided to just try to capture the box
art instead of going for historical accuracy. I built it straight out of the
box, as defined by IPMS rules, the only thing that didn't come in the box was
the paint, glue and antennae wire. Even the 40+ year old kit decals were used,
along with a gallon of Solveset to get them to conform to all those
rivets!

I finished it up last Friday, the day before the Mosquitocon show
held annually in Wayne NJ. It placed 3rd in a very highly competitive 1/32
Aircraft category (which included biplanes, prop and jets). I am very proud of
the fact that I was able to build a competitive model from a 40+ year old kit,
going up against several modern click together wonders from Hasegawa and
Tamiya.

Now to figure out where to display this 17 inch wingspan
memory!

Another set of twins

While waiting for paint to dry, glue to cure, I went back to a "normal" kit. Two of the same, actually. Hasegawa F4U-5s in 1/48. Decent kits which will be largely OOB, except for resin seats with those nice molded belts. In truth, these cockpits have been on the to-do list for a very long time, but I've developed a serious mental block to this detail stuff. I find any excuse to avoid it. Can't remember off-hand the last time I did this sort of "normal" modeling. Happy to see I haven't lost the ability completely.

Kind of like a trip to the dentist -- thinking about it is worse than the actual event. (For me, anyhow. I've got a great dentist.)

With this bit behind me, the actual Corsairs should be a breeze, right? Hope so.....

YF-102

This is the ancient Allyn kit boxed and decalled by Microscale. At this point the tail has been given a proper point (it comes quite rounded) and the outer surfaces of the air intakes have been cut back some. They should also be fattened out horizontally a bit, but that's way more work than I want to get involved with. When finished, this will be a simple gear-up desk model.

The big concern is not allowing any debris inside the model to make its way to the cockpit, and then of course, onto the canopy. This is one of those subjects that will allow no access to the cockpit once the fuselage two halves are connected (boy I hate that scenario), therefore I've added bulkheads that should isolate the front end from evil dust and cat hair and the rest of the invading things that seek to decorate the sealed up inside surfaces of clear parts. Also with the air intake modification, I had to Dremel out the intake backing surfaces and provide new blanking pieces. The pilot is coming from a Revell X-3 which was in the same odd 1/60th scale. The canopy glass, thick as a Coke bottle, fits surprisingly well into the molded framing on top of it.

The fun continues.