RC Airplanes

From a stabilised trainer to a ducted-fan jet:

the wing position and the speed tell you who a plane is for. A high-wing trainer such as a HobbyZone Apprentice wants to fly level and gives a beginner time to think. Most now carry a stabiliser, SAFE on HobbyZone and E-flite, Reflex on FMS, with a panic button that rolls the plane upright and a beginner mode that limits how far it can bank. Gliders climb on the motor, fold the propeller and ride rising air. Low-wing sport planes and warbirds, a Mustang or a Corsair in foam, roll faster and drop a wing when they stall, so they suit someone who already lands cleanly. Ducted-fan jets need the most room and practice. A plane cannot stop in mid-air, though: for photos of a farm from above, a camera model from drones does a job no plane will.

Belly-landers, wheeled planes and the ground within reach:

in the highlands, among hills and ravines, a level field without cables or tall trees is the scarce thing. A small plane that launches from the hand and lands on its belly gets by on a football pitch or a patch of pasture, because grass forgives a skid. A plane on wheels needs a firm, smooth strip; in long grass it tips onto its nose. On the flat Pacific side around Escuintla and Retalhuleu there is more open land, and that is where a larger trainer, its wingspan close to your arm span, earns its place: it is easier to see far out, steadier in gusts and slower to land. If the only open ground near you is a dirt lot, RC cars will give you more evenings for the money than a plane with nowhere to come down.

The ready-to-fly trainer and what the box leaves out:

a small RTF trainer with a stabiliser, with transmitter, battery and charger in the box, starts around Q2,000 new. RTF means all of that comes with it; BNF means the plane has its receiver but no transmitter; PNP leaves out the receiver as well. Those three letters set the used price as much as condition does. A BNF on Spektrum’s DSMX is worth the asking price to someone who already flies that radio, and much less to a newcomer who has to buy a transmitter first. Foam is also easy to repair badly, so a plane with its original wing and an unbroken nose holds its value, and one rebuilt after a nose-in does not, however neatly it is painted.

Testing the stabiliser and the nose of a pre-owned plane:

switch on the transmitter, then the plane, and with the stabiliser active tilt the plane by hand. The ailerons and elevator should move against the tilt, as if trying to level it; if they sit still, the receiver or its setup is at fault. Flex each hinge line gently, because a torn foam hinge lets a surface flutter at speed. Then study the nose, which takes every hard landing: a propeller shaft with play, a cracked firewall behind the motor, or lumps of glue and tape around the cowl all mark a crash. Sight along each wing from the tip. Foam left in a car in the sun warps, and a twisted wing pulls to one side however it is trimmed.

Passing a trainer on to the next beginner:

trainers come up for sale once their owner has moved on to a warbird, and the person answering is nearly always about to fly for the first time. Say whether it is RTF, BNF or PNP, name the radio and its protocol, how many packs and props go with it, and whether the stabiliser works. Own up to every repair, a new wing, a reglued nose, a swapped servo, because the buyer’s first crash will find it anyway. Photograph it from above, wings straight, and from below, where belly landings leave scuffs. If you can, meet at the field where it flew with a charged pack, fly a circuit and a landing yourself, and hand over the transmitter once the buyer has watched it come down in one piece.