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They were stuck flying regardless, whether dizzy or not from the spinning, until the engine ran out of gas. There was the acrid smell of the model engine fuel, and the starting of these things was by finger-flipping the propeller, with adjustments of the idle screw. The engines were wired to a six volt battery with electrical clips for spark until it started. If the engine kicked back, it might propound a bloody finger. Then someone had to hold the plane with the engine running, while the operator ran out along the string lines, grabbed the control handle, tightened up the lines and the holder let it go.

And there was the Pat and Roger Gang led by two brothers who were the town church ministers sons. Each gang consisted in about six boys who all lived in fairly close proximity to each other. There were three or four outsiders who didn't belong to either gang. Don't remember if my first friend here was a member of the Pat and Roger Gang or an outsider, but we never did hang out much. Where I lived there were no other kids except my brother, so I was mostly an outsider, although I did join the Craig Hegel gang for a brief while. I was persuaded by JimG who was another kid introduced by my mother. He convinced me to join riding home on the yellow school bus one day.

I was in one war campaign between the two gangs. The school bus stop was UpTtown on main street in front of the general store, across from the big two-waiting rooms train station, where all the mail boxes for everyone in town were under the great overhangs at either end of the station building.

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