What do you mean it's not awesome? - Euge

"You're sure this spar will hold?" "For the thousandth time Duncan, yes. My notes are on the desk over there, right under the airfoil selection that you never read either." "You know that chickenscratch you try to pass off as handwriting doesn't count as proper documentation, right?" "Will you just help me install the damn thing?" Duncan grinned before squatting to grab the other end of the newly fabricated wing. It was the last piece of a medium sized unmanned aircraft the two were building out of Duncans' San Jose garage. The two men had been friends ever since dropping out of an art elective together before they got an F in the course. Now, they spent their spare time doping carbon fiber and fiberglass into spindly yet effective airframes. Their newest project was a solar powered abomination that looked like it would disappear with the slightest breeze. Appearances were deceptive though; with the full electronics payload it would be pushing a takeoff weight of 450 pounds, hence the eternal question mark about the spar. "Alright, last bolt's in place. Let's light this candle Euge." "Battery connected; good signal; GPS lock; looks like it's ready." "You know that spar is going to cost you a bottle of Blue Label when it fails." "Your nose doesn't look broken enough Duncan. Keep on about the spar and I'll fix that. Throttling up." "Lift off, clean retract." "What did I tell you buddy? Have some faith in my skills." --5 hours later-- "..." "I know what you're thinking Duncan, and I'm telling you I don't owe you squat. Your infernal autopilot drove the thing right into the ground." "I was just thinking where the nearest liquor store is."