Dgamble
Well Known Member
Continued from Part 1:
There are few things you can do in life that can be as humbling as a project like this. You will be furious with yourself. You will be astounded to learn how fallible you are. You will question whether you should even be doing this. "How could I have missed that?" will be a question you ask yourself every bit as often as a curious person will ask "When will it be done?"
You needn't be alone, though. At least in the case of the RV-12, there are other people that have gone before and are willing to share helpful tips and pieces of advice. Not all of it will be useful; you need to be the final judge as to whether you want to follow anyone else's lead.
You will have visitors as you work. Sometimes they will be a distraction, at others times they will be a welcome break.
You may even be lucky enough to pick up ready and willing helpers along the way. Chances are that you will be blessed with new, lasting friendships.
Sure, there will be a few know-it-alls that think their way of doing any particular thing is the only way, but that's endemic to the breed of person that has the self-confidence to tackle a project of this magnitude. There are points of contention that actually bring out evangelistic fervor in some people. Emotions can run high.
It's not always easy to set that kind of thing aside and get back to focusing on your own work, but as with any of the plethora of other frustrations, you will learn that it is often best to just step back for a few days and get settled down before doing any work on the plane.
That is, in fact, one of the more important lessons to learn. There will be days when you realize that you aren't working on the airplane because you want to, you're working on it out of some sense of obligation or pressure from external influences.
It is at these times when you are more likely to make mistakes. Your mind isn't fully engaged. You can read directions that clearly state the need to drill a 3/8" hole and proceed to blithely drill a 3/4" hole. You will then spend a few days beating yourself up over it.
I know this, because I did just that.
The lesson to be learned is to know when to not work on the plane.
An adjunct to that lesson is to know when not to put pressure on yourself. Unless there is a good reason to do so, deadlines for completion are best avoided. Delays are inevitable. Parts may need to be replaced. Tools may need to be acquired. Midstream changes can come flying in from the factory at any time, often requiring the re-work of something you thought was finished and done.
Knowing at an intellectual level that these things can and do happen helps, but it cannot prevent the immense frustration that comes from an unexpected delay. It's just one more thing to deal with.
So in light of all that emotion and complexity, what's my answer when someone asks me what it's like to build an airplane? How do I condense all of this down into an easy answer that at least partially conveys the depth and subtlety of it all?
Like this:
"It's a journey of self-discovery."
Along that journey, you will learn deep and abiding lessons that will affect the rest of your life.
You will learn that most mistakes that you make can be fixed with various combinations of time and money.
You will learn to question everything you read, no matter how reputable you consider the source to be. Everyone makes mistakes, and that includes experts.
You will learn the costs and consequences of inattention to detail.
You will learn that there is no shame in asking for help.
You will learn to be critical of yours and others work, but not in the sense of overt, accusatory criticism or blame, but as dispassionate, fact-based observation of results. See also: teamwork.
You will learn to properly and safely use tools you never knew existed.
You will learn to not only use the right tool for the job, but how to deal with situations when the right tool isn?t available. Knowing when a suitable substitute can be used or when there is simply no other choice is an art you will start to master.
You will gain a deeper understanding of how mechanical things work.
You will learn to not be afraid to try to fix them.
You will learn that despite what the sticker says, sometimes there actually are user serviceable parts inside.
You will learn to live with people that think you learned more than you actually did: ?If you can build an airplane, you ought to be able to fix?.?
And finally, you will learn that no matter how big the job is, no matter how many people tell you that you?re crazy for even trying it, if you approach that dauntingly huge job as a series of much smaller jobs, you will eventually finish it.
And that is the most important lesson of them all.
