IT WASN’T A CINCH.
There was something wrong with this particular job. It had killed four people and cracked up with five expert pilots. There was something wrong with its appearance ... the general arrangement of its wings ... fuselage and tail surfaces were wrong, but I couldn’t tell where or how. It was an inoffensive, ruggedly built, cumbersome sort of a crate.
I looked at it from every angle ... sat on the grass and studied it and continued the search for the error in design while carrying on a running conversation with engineers and pilots about other subjects. We had weighed the ship for balance. Its center of gravity was correct. Its flight record proved that it could fly straightaway ... was normal in turns ... and that it was built ruggedly enough to withstand the pounding effo
