The Adventures of Johnny Rocketback

Taking the ladder down from the wall of the shed, I placed it on the back wall. There were heavy woods behind our house, but there was a long stretch with no trees just off to the right. I knew if I could get on the roof of the shed, I could launch through the opening in the trees. I thought I would be able to get high enough before I was over any houses so that I would not be noticed. Remember, 11 year old kid flying, not good. I could not risk being seen. I put the backpack on and climbed the ladder to the top of the shed. As I got my balance, I pulled the cord to start the engine. It fluttered and sputtered, but then it began to hum quietly.
I could smell the jet fuel coming out of the catcher’s mitt, and I knew I had to go for it before the mitt caught fire. As long as I was flying, the wind would cool the mitt; but to just sit there and idle, I knew the baby oil could get hot enough to catch and then the gallon of fuel would send me to an early grave.
I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger on the throttle. I held the end of the blower hose down toward the ground, and I began to rise, not slowly like I had expected, but really pretty quick. I then pointed the hose slightly behind me still downward and headed for the opening in the trees. WOW, I had made it to the top of the trees before I got to the next house. No one would see me, and man-o –man, I was really flying. I was in such a hurry to test it out I forgot my helmet, goggles, knee and elbow pads. I sure hoped this thing would stay up with no problems. WOW!

As I flew across Elm Street, I could see the Thompson boys playing in their pool below. Luckily I had reached a high enough altitude that they did not see nor hear me as I flew over. Boy, how great would it be to drop a tomato on Tommy Thompson’s head and not get caught. He had always been a bully to me and just the thought of dropping a tomato bomb on his head was tempting for my next voyage. I remember my grandpa’s instructions that my inventions should not be for mischief and I quickly turned my focus back to my flying, and it was a good thing.
Seeing birds in flight from the ground is a whole lot different than seeing them face to face a few hundred feet off the ground. I don’t know who was scared the most-- me or those Canadian Geese. They let out a squawk that almost busted my ear drum. I could almost swear that the head goose was cross eyed when he darted to the left and downward. Thank goodness we did not hit, or you might not be hearing this story right now. It was neat flying over my neighborhood, but I knew I needed to turn back towards home in case I had to make an unexpected landing. Although I had equipped the backpack rocket blower with a good muffler, I had failed to make a real parachute; I realized that I had never really had a plan for the motor stalling. Now I am a little scared just thinking about it……