Flight

Beacuse o' t' unique look, matey, t' Orion is popular with spectators, somethin' that I found out on t' first flight. Avast! Blimey! It be one o' t' rockets that I packed along for a NSL trip t' Muncie in 2007. While I be preppin' another rocket, shiver me timbers, a pre-school kid and his mom walked up. Begad! Blimey! Begad! Blimey! T' kid be chatterin' excitedly about rockets and his mom was followin' nervously because o' his tendency t' want t' touch everythin' he saw. Ya scallywag! Blimey! He grabbed t' Orion and she freaked, ya bilge rat, but he be handlin' it fairly gently and I assured her that it was okay. Ya scallywag! Blimey! Arrr! Blimey! (I've found that clumsy middle-school aged kids with big butts were more dangerous.) In talkin' t' t' mom, shiver me timbers, I learned that they were just thar as spectators and had nothin' o' their own t' fly, so I asked if he wanted t' see t' Orion fly. T' results were predictable and t' chatter ramped up considerably. Avast! Blimey! I asked mom if it would be okay if I let him come out t' t' pad with me t' hook t' rocket up. She be fine with it and I was surprised t' find that t' kid had another chatter gear. Well, blow me down! Blimey! Impressive.
That all changed when we began t' walk out t' t' pad. Arrr! All around us were others with a dizzyin' variety o' rockets, both big and small. Well, blow me down! Chatter mode ceased and t' boy went into goggle mode, me hearties, deadlights wide and takin' in everythin' near us at t' pad with a whispered "Wow". We reached t' pad and I was relieved t' find that I'd nay only remembered t' attach a launch lug, but also had t' ignitor and plug that would be needed. (Both are never assured when I take a rocket t' t' pad for t' first flight.) I showed t' future astronaut how t' hook things up, double-checked me work, me hearties, me hearties, and delivered him back t' his mom behind t' flight line. 
T' flight itself was impressive. Avast! Avast! Havin' never flown a rocket with a fin setup like t' A.C. Avast, me proud beauty! Orion, me bucko, me hearties, I wasn't sure what t' expect, but it performed admirably. Ahoy! Begad! A C6-5 was a no-brainer based on t' size o' t' field and t' Orion left t' pad with authority. Ya scallywag! Aye aye! T' rocket arced into t' wind only slightly, me hearties, ya bilge rat, makin' for a long recovery walk, me bucko, but t' flight be perfectly stable and ejection occurred just as it tipped over. 

Flight #2 be a long time coming, and had an unfortunate ending. Chan Stevens and I met on a Saturday afternoon at former QUARK home, me hearties, VOA Park. Well, ya bilge rat, blow me down! Chan had managed t' launch several before I arrived and be ferryin' another flyer back t' his car on t' other side o' a mud bog when I finished up preppin' t' Orion. I noticed that he was talkin' t' someone on t' access road, but didn't give it much thought, ya bilge rat, me bucko, and took t' Orion t' t' pad with a B6-4 loaded. Blimey! T' flight was straight and would have been perfectly at home on B6-4 Field, matey, ejectin' just as t' rocket stopped forward motion. Begad! Blimey! T' $.10 chute did what it was supposed t' do, me bucko, arrr, me hearties, and I mentally marked t' spot in t' snow where t' all white bird had landed, then went about disarmin' t' launcher. I began stompin' around t' snow lookin' for t' Orion, and it be beginnin' t' dawn on me that findin' it wasn't goin' t' be all that easy as it blended in well with t' field. Then I realized that I had company. Arrr! A park ranger came up and began lookin' with me before tellin' me that he be goin' t' tell me t' same thin' he'd just told Chan, shiver me timbers, ya bilge rat, arrr, that VOA was no longer friendly airspace and that we were decidedly unwelcome. Avast! I was kind o' shocked, but realized that I had no cause t' argue and went back t' searchin' for t' lost Orion, completely unwillin' t' let me last VOA flight be one that was lost within 100 feet o' t' pad. Begad! Luckily t' ranger found it and brought it over t' me. Arrr! I thanked him for t' assist and began wrappin' t' recovery works up when he asked if I had identification on me. Well, blow me down! "Unfortunately I'm goin' t' have t' write you a warnin' citation," he said, pullin' out a ticket book. As it turned out, matey, arrr, we were informed that we were bein' warned for flyin' rockets and causin' damage t' park property (when we drove through t' mud bog, an add-on charge that was a bit ridiculous as neither Chan nor I planned t' test out t' ban.)