Mayday, mayday.

I was minding my own business, riding with my newly acquired Amateur rider Ben Evans, when out of the corner of my eye I saw it.  It was a plane that appeared to be in distress.  It was shaking violently, kind of convulsing if you will. Moments later it hit the ground and came apart in about a thousand pieces.  It wasn't a real plane, at least in the sense that it was carrying passengers or cargo.  It was real in the sense that I could touch it and it flew, albeit not very well.  It was a remote control plane, according to the owner worth over $20,000.  

We all ran to the scene of the crash to see if there was anything we could do.  You know, pick up the pieces, search for the black box, maybe put out a fire or pillage the wreckage.  I couldn't resist but cracking jokes about driving up a remote control fire truck or calling a remote control helicopter to help with the victims.  We looked for the fictional black box before wearing out our welcome with the owner of the previously pricey plane.  And I thought motocross racers wasted money on toys...

RC