Resembling a vanilla éclair on roller blades, Ohio's newest airship
squats in a cloth-covered hangar waiting for the skies to clear, the wind
to ebb and the ground to harden.
When those conditions are in alignment, a lone pilot in a completely
open seat will begin by taxiing the 120-foot Dynalifter down a grass
runway north of Alliance.
The first time Ohio, a grass field and a new aircraft with an open seat
found their way into a newspaper, it involved a pair of Dayton bicycle
mechanics who thought that powered flight was worth a look.
This time, an equally improbable pair of pioneers wants to tempt
providence and defy gravity, though a bit more modestly than the Wright
Brothers.
Robert Rist and Brian Martin have crafted what they call a hybrid of
winged airplane and helium airship. Stubby wings and a pair of waspy
little gasoline engines will be able to lift it because of Mylar gas bags
from stem to stern.
Don't call the Dynalifter a blimp. It is more like a dirigible because
of its rigid metal framework and backbone, and it aspires to avoid the
vices of earlier airships, such as the need for big ground crews, high
operating costs or the tendency to blow up or come apart in storms.
But where the Wrights created modern aviation from the ground up, Rist
and Martin want only to get cargo off the ground, sending it faster than
surface ships, farther and more cheaply than trucks or modern cargo
aircraft.
In their way, the boys from Alliance are a modern paraphrase of the
brothers from Dayton.
The Wrights represented the last gasp of a time when inventors could
toil away in private, without benefactors, corporate patrons or major
research grants. They ran a bicycle shop, taught themselves to be
aeronautical engineers and then went flying - albeit after thousands of
attempts and years of experimentation.
Rist and Martin worked at Mount Union College in Alliance, where one
set up technical systems and the other was a computer programmer. They've
used computer technology to research the project and design it. But they
have called in the expertise of various aerospace experts to refine it.
They conceived the idea in 1991, left the college in late 2003, began
building in February 2004 and finished most of the work this past autumn.
Martin and Rist also want investors, while the Wrights shunned them.
The Wrights reveled in the remote, wind-formed dunes of North
Carolina's Outer Banks because there was no one there to bother them
except feral ponies and the hapless descendants of pirates and shipwreck
victims. When they made test flights on Huffman Prairie near Dayton, they
would time them to make sure no interurban rail traffic was going down the
nearby rails while they were in the air.
Rist and Martin welcome visitors whenever they are at the airfield, and
answer questions with the patience of pediatricians and kindergarten
teachers.
But anyone with ill intent should know that the white hangar can be
seen from the home of Forrest Barber, the probable pilot on the
Dynalifter's first flight. The retired police captain is as protective of
the airship as the father of the bride the night before the wedding.