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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required MY MODEL PLANE Way back, when I was 12 years old, I built a model airplane with my Dad, It was a great experience, but most of all, We spent some time together, and for that I was glad. The plane was built from balsa wood and paper, With a rubber band running from propeller to tail, It was a labor of love for about 2 weeks, When we finished it, it was time to exhale. It was displayed in my room on top of my dresser, This was not just considered a toy, But this was a project that I was proud of, And I considered it as my pride and joy. Well, about 2 weeks later, it was moving day, From our 2nd floor apartment on E. 8th St. We drove about 5 miles in our ’49 Plymouth, To our 12th floor apartment on W. 5th St. The only way I could protect the plane was, To put it on the rear shelf of the car, I guarded my model, made sure it didn’t move, Even though the trip wasn’t really that far. Well , I got my plane home in one piece, And displayed it in my brand new room, But I was told by my Mom & Dad to continue working, So, unpacking my stuff I resumed. One day I had a bright idea, I wanted to see if my plane would fly, So I turned the propeller, the rubber band twisted tight, And what happened next made me want to cry. I turned the propeller 1 last time, And the plane then snapped in 2, Then I thought to myself, Oh my God, What the hell did I just do? I never saw my Dad laugh so hard, And there is just 1 thing left to say, A promising career as an aircraft engineer, Came to an abrupt halt that day.
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