Flight

Beacuse o' t' unique look, me bucko, matey, t' Orion is popular with spectators, arrr, somethin' that I found out on t' first flight. Avast! Blimey! It was one o' t' rockets that I packed along for a NSL trip t' Muncie in 2007. While I be preppin' another rocket, matey, a pre-school kid and his mom walked up. T' kid was chatterin' excitedly about rockets and his mom be followin' nervously because o' his tendency t' want t' touch everythin' he saw. Well, blow me down! Blimey! He grabbed t' Orion and she freaked, but he be handlin' it fairly gently and I assured her that it was okay. (I've found that clumsy middle-school aged kids with big butts were more dangerous.) In talkin' t' t' mom, ya bilge rat, 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. Ahoy! Blimey! T' results were predictable and t' chatter ramped up considerably. Blimey! Blimey! Ahoy! 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. Avast! Blimey! She was fine with it and I was surprised t' find that t' kid had another chatter gear. Aye aye! Blimey! Impressive.
That all changed when we began t' walk out t' t' pad. 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 bucko, shiver me timbers, deadlights wide and takin' in everythin' near us at t' pad with a whispered "Wow". Avast! We reached t' pad and I was relieved t' find that I'd nay only remembered t' attach a launch lug, arrr, 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, ya bilge rat, ya bilge rat, and delivered him back t' his mom behind t' flight line. 
T' flight itself was impressive. Aye aye! Blimey! Havin' never flown a rocket with a fin setup like t' A.C. Avast, ya bilge rat, me proud beauty! Blimey! Orion, I wasn't sure what t' expect, ya bilge rat, but it performed admirably. Ahoy! Blimey! A C6-5 was a no-brainer based on t' size o' t' field and t' Orion left t' pad with authority. Avast! Blimey! T' rocket arced into t' wind only slightly, me bucko, makin' for a long recovery walk, matey, but t' flight was perfectly stable and ejection occurred just as it tipped over. 

Flight #2 was a long time coming, and had an unfortunate ending. Ya scallywag! Chan Stevens and I met on a Saturday afternoon at former QUARK home, ya bilge rat, VOA Park. Avast, me proud beauty! 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. Ya scallywag! Avast! I noticed that he be talkin' t' someone on t' access road, me hearties, me bucko, but didn't give it much thought, and took t' Orion t' t' pad with a B6-4 loaded. Avast, me proud beauty! T' flight was straight and would have been perfectly at home on B6-4 Field, shiver me timbers, arrr, arrr, ejectin' just as t' rocket stopped forward motion. Arrr! Begad! T' $.10 chute did what it was supposed t' do, and I mentally marked t' spot in t' snow where t' all white bird had landed, me bucko, me bucko, then went about disarmin' t' launcher. I began stompin' around t' snow lookin' for t' Orion, ya bilge rat, arrr, and it was 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. Blimey! 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, that VOA was no longer friendly airspace and that we were decidedly unwelcome. Well, blow me down! Begad! 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. Well, blow me down! Luckily t' ranger found it and brought it over t' me. Begad! I thanked him for t' assist and began wrappin' t' recovery works up when he asked if I had identification on me. Arrr! Blimey! "Unfortunately I'm goin' t' have t' write you a warnin' citation," he said, pullin' out a ticket book. Well, blow me down! As it turned out, me hearties, matey, me bucko, 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 be a bit ridiculous as neither Chan nor I planned t' test out t' ban.)