All heads turned as one to where the Mosquito was silhouetted against the sky. Missed again! He ran back towards the car elated, when suddenly a loud bang stopped him in his tracks.
Leaving the others gathered around the car, Trevor walked away to stand his ground alone, defiantly facing down the snarling projectile that hurtled towards him and parted his hair with a gale of prop wash. The tiny gyroplane pointed her nose to the sky, hanging gently on the wind like a dandelion seed, the steady whop whop beat of the rotor blades increasing as they took up the load, supporting the descent. Shallow dives became rapid low level passes transitioning fluidly with the momentum to swing skywards, gaining height to demonstrate slow flight and vertical descents.
True to his word, Ernie wasn’t holding back, working through his repertoire to display the full capability of the machine with a masterful performance. Trevor was buzzing with excitement - that was his uncle Ernest, that was! Suddenly it changed, growing rapidly before their eyes and coming at them like a bullet just above the ground, skimming the top of the car in a blast of thunder and scattering those less stalwart than a thirteen year old schoolboy. The small group of friends left behind, watched in eager anticipation as the dark speck climbed away to the north. Ernie Brooks was in high spirits as he collected his nephew Trevor from their usual rendezvous on the way to the airfield, where this time they were to be joined by a potential investor, and Ernie was keen to show what his little gyroplane could do.Ī practised flick of the propeller brought the engine to life, and Ernie waved to his crew with a cheery thumbs up as he taxied off towards the other side of the airfield, where the unsilenced roar of the Volkswagen engine heralded his departure. The weather was calm with good visibility, and a handy 8 knots of wind to aid a free spinning rotor. The 9th of March 1969 started just like any other Sunday.
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