The Hobby Shop

THE HOBBY SHOP
                                                                                KENNETH E. HALL          OCTOBER 9, 2018         HOUSTON


"Up, down, flying around,
looping the loop and defying the ground.

They're all frightfully keen,
those magnificent men in their flying machines." - Lyrics for Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines [Theme] by John McCarthy Chorus


Most 7-year-old kids have some sort of hobby; I know I had lots of them. For example, I used to put model airplanes together and such. One day, though, I saw someone actually FLYING a model plane! "That was for ME!" I thought. Back in the late Fifties, model aviation was not sophisticated like it is today - with remote controls and all. Model airplanes then used a tether and it was a dizzying experience watching the thing buzz round and round. It was also boring after awhile.

But in order to be bored, first one needs to actually have a model airplane! So one fine day I convinced my mother that I was going to build and fly my own. Although we never had a lot of money, the idea of my making something instead of purchasing it already completed appealed to her, so the next Saturday we cruised the neighborhoods of Washington, D.C. in search of the wherewithal to make my very own flying machine!

Back in the late 1950's, the city of Washington, D.C. was composed of numerous stately, imposing government buildings surrounded by true neighborhoods. Most of the D.C. buildings I remember were  late Victorian brownstones. with their turrets and towers and stepped porches. Each few blocks one went in the Nation's Capital meant being another small neighborhood.

Today we went in search of a place to buy model airplane paraphernalia - especially a gasoline engine! We came into a different area - one I do not recall ever having been in before, and my Mom was not happy that this was such an unfamiliar place. But here it was - the store we apparently were looking for: "The Hobby Shop." Strange name, right? I mean, how did they ever think up something so clever??

There was just one wee, small problem: there was no place to park, so, contrary to her wishes, she had no choice but to have me run inside by myself and see if they handled model airplane engines. I jumped out of the car and ran inside while Mom circled the block.

The place had several men sitting around like old farmers might sit at a checker table in an old filling station just off the blacktop. They were all talking at once, and I was a polite sort of kid, so I waited patiently. Then, they all looked at me and began to laugh. They kept up this laughter until I got upset - which probably was the general idea anyway - and they literally laughed me out of the store!

Thanks, guys!

I got back into the car and told Mom about my less-than-optimum experience at that silly store. Back then, we didn't have Yelp, Facebook, or any other recourse to air our grievances and outrage. We just told Mom and drove off, and went to the next place on the list.

This time my mother came in with me and did the talking, and I liked it better that way. We got the motor and out we went, back to Arlington Towers and our "deluxe apartment in the sky." By this time, I had somewhat lost interest in a hobby that would take me back to any "hobby shop" and the motor was put into a box for later use.

A few weeks later I got the thing out, and just after my bedtime, I had the fuel tank filled and ready to go. I gave the propeller a few turns, and suddenly the tiny motor roared to life!! Here I was, standing in the middle of the living room floor, holding the motor in both hands and the thing buzzing very loudly - spraying gas all over to boot! And - neither of us took note of the time: it was by now about 11pm! This wouldn't have been a problem had this been a house, but it was an apartment, and to re-quote my mother's mantra: "We have people living above us, below us, and on both sides of us."

With the gas sprayed all over the place, including my face, the little fuel tank quickly spent its contents, and the motor sputtered out. The phone calls and knocks on the door, walls, and ceiling did not come - not this time, at least. This time I got a pass - I was a kid and made a little bit of noise, and the whole world - for just this ONCE - chose not to rise up in open rebellion against anyone daring to break their precious silence.

I put the little motor back in its box and put the box into a larger box filled with things I would get around to one day, but I never did. This was the first and only time I ever even tried to do anything like this, and at least I got the engine to work. More problems lay ahead - such as building a complete fusillage (I was by no means an aviation engineer) - and where would I go to actually FLY the thing if/when once I get it built?...and answer came there none.

It seems this was an off-beat interest whose time had not yet come. When I found out that everything I needed to make a flying machine could be obtained only at a "hobby shop," I said no thanks, and went in search of other less-complicated things. It seems that the world was big and wide and full of wondrous things to be seen and be done, so I got right to them.

I do not frequent hobby shops much - and can't say as I ever have. Every time I do see one, I remember that bad experience and I just shake my head and move on. Life is just too short.

Many years later I had children of my own, and one son asked me to take him to a hobby shop to buy materials for model rockets! Wow! Now here was a kid after my own heart! I let my son do the talking, and the people there were professional and helpful. We went into a nice, clean, modern hobby store where there were no idiots sitting around laughing at little kids, and my son got the makings for several rockets, which he used. As his first model rocket lifted skyward from Johnson Space Center in Houston, his proud parents were there to witness the event.