My mystery shopper in ~ well I can say it now ~ in San Diego has decided to run with his own design, albeit assisted by his local fabricator. As neither of them confess to knowing a thing about drones, the past several days I've devoted much time pointing them In the right direction... a case of the blind leading the blind if ever there was one.
This was what they had proposed with a view to a machine steerable by weight-shift alone, and the crux of my arguments have been
(a) don't be fooled by YouTube videos, as few people show the many crashes prior,
(b) weight-shift machines have generally pitched the mass of motors at the base,
(c) use more motors rather than fewer,
(d) and ideally avoid the losses associated with contra-rotating props.
Crucially I suggested that the prototype as envisioned would almost certainly topple over on Day One, taking out several hundred dollars worth of carbon-fibre propeller with it in a best-case scenario.
I'd have gone out there to assist except for the fact travel between the UK and US is embargoed by the UK government's overly-cautious approach to the Covid pandemic.
My efforts over past weeks have thus been among its casualties, albeit one that few of us will mourn beside myself.
I don't regret extending hands of help across the virtual ocean, though it has been a monumental ~ some would say simply mental ~ distraction.
Coincidentally news came through that my pre-existing effort had been granted design registration in the UK, something I use as a matter of record as much as anything:
... although to my chagrin (and doubtless influenced by Monty the mannekin) they've classed it under 'Toys and Games' in order to rub salt into my gaping wounds.
I do feel though like someone who's had a wild fling, and returned to Earth suitably chastened.
And the prototype to which I return ~ unable in the circumstances to celebrate our design registration certificate together ~ still awaits me in the corner of the workshop.
"You bastard!" It shouts, "Off to fucking Pasadena with your fancy octocopter were you? Thought the California girls would melt your popsicle, did you?"
"San Diego, dear..."
"Don't San Diego me, you loser, and don't even think of touching me with that electric screw-driver!"
Fuck.
