On Monday, I flew a #modelrocket that I had built sometime around 1974 for the first time. It flew higher than expected and got lost somewhere in the neighborhood around the school where we launched.

This was probably one of the last rockets I built as a kid. I spent a lot of time making it look good. Sometimes you lose rockets when you fly them; sometimes the chute fails to open and they nose into the ground, crushing the paper body tubes.

I launched with my oldest friend from childhood. We met in third grade when my dad ran a launch out back of our elementary school with the whole class watching. It was a three-stage rocket. The upper stage drifted off school property, and despite a large portion of the class looking for it, it was never recovered. We have been friends ever since. He kept up the hobby for life; I occasionally dabble in it still.

This was a D-engine rocket, higher power than anything I’d ever flown. I was pretty sure it would fly high. It had a narrow body, which reduced drag. It did indeed fly high—maybe 800 feet or more. Then we watched it drift over the school where we were launching and into the surrounding neighborhood. We sighted the rough landing area relative to some of the taller trees in the area and went looking for it. Despite talking to several neighbors and getting permission to search in backyards, it was gone.

I could have hung on to the rocket and never flown it. It already had acquired a few dents over the last 50 years of moves. If I’d hung on to it, someone else would eventually have just thrown it out.

I spent 50 years wondering what a D-powered flight would be like. I found out. It was fun—for about two minutes. Probably more fun than looking at it sitting above my workbench for the next 10 or 20 years.

Some things have sentimental value and may be worth keeping. Some things just have to be enjoyed and set free.

Carpe Rocketem :-)