(Continued from Page 1) to altitudes of 15,000 feet,

(Continued from Page 1) to altitudes of 15,000 feet, above the flight paths of the fighter planes that zoom over the county every so often. It lifts off the ground at 17 miles per hour and can reach a top speed of 50 mph. “But you really have to work to get it that fast. You’d have to open the throttle full blast and point the nose straight down,” Lane said.

The controls are practically non-existent. Nelson starts the engine by tugging on a coil, just like a lawn mower. The motor even sounds like a lawn mower—more putt-putt than purr. He steers by shifting his weight and center of gravity, swinging the seat to turn the rudder. “You cut the throttle and pull down to lose altitude, open the throttle and aim the nose up in the air to climb...It’s so easy for me to fly. So easy.”

The glider gets about a gallon per hour, running on a standard two-cycle gasoline mix. “I bought my aviation fuel at Burke’s Store this morning—unleaded supreme!” Nelson joked.

His only flight equipment is a bright yellow helmet, the same shade as the glider’s dacron wings. “They make parachutes for this thing—the kind you carry in your lap—but I don’t have one. The parachute probably looks twice as shakey as this does."

Neither does Lane have a license for his machine. Motorized hang gliders are so new that the Federal Aeronautics Administration hasn’t yet gotten around to , establishing regulations.

Nelson sounds very positive when he insists that his new toy presents no particular safety hazard. “The dangers are about the same as flying anything—being low to the ground and not moving very fast. I suppose you could hit a bird in the air if you pursued an eagle or a buzzard with two much enthusiasm. That could be pretty disastrous.”

The glider is so manageable that Lane maintains he can turn tiny circles around a person standing in the field. The engine is prone to cutting out—“It stalls like