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How to Build an Airplane in Your Living Room -  Jill Hoffman

How to Build an Airplane in Your Living Room (eBook)

A Guide to Living an Unconventional Life

(Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB
2024 | 1. Auflage
174 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-2619-4 (ISBN)
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(CHF 11,60)
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Daughter of world-famous pilot Dick Rutan and the niece of legendary aerospace designer Burt Rutan, Jill Hoffman was devoted to leaving a unique contribution to the world. Readers will journey alongside Jill through iconic events like her father's record-breaking global flight and his rise to fame, the turbulence of being a child of divorce, the highs of founding a company, and the lows of facing its subsequent failure. This narrative offers an exhilarating exploration of self-discovery told with a lighthearted touch, recounting Jill's many exploits in her journey from a lost little girl from a small airport town in California to a woman who has learned to embrace her unconventional life.
Jill Hoffman was born into a family of aviation pioneers, the daughter of world-famous pilot Dick Rutan and the niece of legendary aerospace designer Burt Rutan. Growing up surrounded by innovative minds and milestone-setting achievements, Jill decided at a young age to carve her own path and leave a unique contribution to this world. She discovered early on that the mindset of a successful aviation legend translates differently for a small-town girl. At its heart, the book delves into the turbulence of an unconventional life that defies convention at every turn. It's a blend of memoir and how-to guide, encapsulating a life journey colored by the limitless possibilities of the sky met with the challenges on the ground. From the exhilarating moments of witnessing aviation history unfold, courtesy of her family's escapades, to grappling with the intricacies of growing into adulthood, this narrative is an exciting ride in self-discovery. Readers will journey alongside Jill through iconic events like her father's record-breaking global flight and his rise to fame, the turbulence of being a child of divorce, the highs of founding a company, and the lows of facing its subsequent failure. Intertwined within these personal episodes are snippets of encounters with renowned figures such as Elon Musk and Michael Jackson. Each chapter concludes with reflections, life lessons, and actionable takeaways. This memoir follows a life that refuses traditional expectations at every corner, making it a particularly resonant read for those feeling adrift or stuck in life, especially after experiencing failure. Additionally, aviation and space enthusiasts will be captivated by Jill's anecdotes from her upbringing surrounded by the Rutan family. "e;How to Build an Airplane in Your Living Room"e; does an excellent job of chronicling a life marked with homebuilt airplanes in living rooms and a girl's search for meaning from a life of never fitting in. This narrative offers an exhilarating exploration of self-discovery told with a lighthearted touch, recounting Jill's many exploits in her journey from a lost little girl from a small airport town in California to a woman who has learned to embrace her unconventional life.

Chapter One

Start with a Dream

My dad knew there was a real possibility he wouldn’t survive the takeoff, and he couldn’t shake the image of a fireball at the end of the runway. Early one December morning in 1986, my father, Dick Rutan, climbed into an airplane he built with his own two hands to do something many saw as impossible. He was about to break a world record as the first to fly around the globe without stopping or refueling. He sat in the cockpit of his fragile homebuilt airplane and started to notice fear was overtaking his confidence. To avoid the growing dread he concentrated on the final checklists and tuned his ears to only listen to the radio transmissions instead of the voice in his head. Unfortunately a small moment of silence allowed him to grasp the horror of how he got to this specific time in his life. If his flying fuel tank of a plane survived takeoff, the turbulent forecasted weather and his mental exhaustion were high barriers to overcome. A nine-day journey confined in a space the size of a storm drain lay ahead while the world stood back and watched.

His “pick the last plum off the tree of aviation” philosophy turned into a project he spent ten years of his life building. Voyager became his everything. Begging for sponsorships and funding isn’t what most adventurers think of when the desire to chase a milestone hits, but to do the impossible promises to steal a part of your soul. Dad is a proven adventurer, though. He flew in combat and punched out of airplanes. How hard could it be? Dad went for his dream with his whole heart and convinced others to follow.

I grew up in a family of nonconformists. Backward-looking homebuilt airplanes, flying around the world, and plans to travel to space were as typical in my family as watching sports was in others. However, these were not casual conversations around the dinner table. A spaceship in every garage was the action plan, not a daydream. And it all started with an airplane in my living room. To my family, there was no outside world other than experimental aviation and pushing the envelope.

That historic December morning, while Dad was starting his takeoff roll at one end of the extra-long runway, which ran down the edge of a vast, dry lake bed, I stood at the other end of the runway with my grandfather. While thousands of people lined the distant hills surrounding that lake bed, relying only on binoculars in the hopes of catching a glimpse of history, I stood up front living it. Then, as the long-awaited touch of warmth provided by the sun peeked over the horizon, we stood with our focus on the outstretched runway.

I was sixteen years old, standing there in a beaded jacket Uncle Denny created for me, and I never once thought my father was risking his life. He had successfully broken many records, so this seemed more routine than dangerous to my teenage mind. My grandfather, a six-foot-tall man with a gentle smile, added to my carefree demeanor that morning. Everyone called him Pop, and I felt comfortable standing there with him.

Suddenly out of the cold morning air a flash of sunlight reflecting off Voyager’s long, thin wings caught our attention. Pop and I had our first glimpse of Dad. The squint fell from our eyes as the airplane came into view. We watched as the oddly shaped outline of the plane grew more detailed the closer it came. Pop motioned to me by holding his hand about four feet off the ground and said loudly, “Voyager should be about this high when it passes.” What seemed like an eternity turned into seconds as Voyager zoomed past. Unfortunately, Voyager’s wheels were still firmly on the runway. Something was wrong.

Moments before, Dad had chosen confidence over fear and pushed up the throttles, causing the plane to head down the runway. The next step was to gain enough airspeed before pulling back on the stick to take off. But the airspeed didn’t appear. “Abort, abort, abort,” the mission crew yelled to Dad over the radio. They knew he was losing precious runway and needed to stop, but Dad focused only on the airspeed.

He wasn’t about to give up on a dream so many people had donated time and money to support. Voyager had been the main focus of his life for the prior ten years, and something as small as running out of runway wasn’t going to put an end to it. He built that plane and knew every inch of it. Knowing what Voyager was capable of, he followed his instincts and pushed on for a bit longer. Then, bingo, that magic airspeed number appeared. With that, he pulled back the stick in a way that no one other than a self-proclaimed golden-armed fighter pilot could with such grace and accuracy. The Voyager slowly lifted its long, fragile wings and started its journey into the great unknown.

Overcome with excitement, I jumped up, waved my hands, and sent them off with a “Godspeed.” I still had no clue that I was likely moments away from seeing what Dad feared. When Pop told me the plane should be off the ground at that specific time, he knew Dad had only so much runway for a safe takeoff. When Pop saw no sunlight between Voyager’s wheels and the runway, his thoughts went from excitement to dread. He realized he was about to have a front-row seat to a fiery crash, one that he had unintentionally invited his granddaughter to watch. Pop’s reaction of relief after Dad finally lifted off would have had much more meaning if I had only known.

Voyager is now a part of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum’s collection after successfully flying around the world nonstop and non-refueled. The complications during takeoff were only the beginning of the obstacles that followed during the next nine days. Dad likes to say that “adventure is the essence of life,” and he proved that with Voyager. After Dad landed with his copilot, Jeana Yeager, the two became international heroes with all the perks and hardships of fame.

Overnight I went from an anonymous high school student to a girl with a famous dad. Naturally, as any sixteen-year-old would do, I jumped at the chance to tag along as the world met its newest superstars. The months that followed the flight included press tours, celebrity appearances, and invites to mingle amongst the highest levels of society. I felt as if I had finally found my place in the world even though most of that time was spent in waiting rooms with the other tagalongs.

Fame was never Dad’s end goal. He didn’t put any thought into the monuments after climbing out of the cockpit. I’m not sure he ever thought he would. When life’s momentum turns from push to pull, it takes time to adjust. Dad went from ten years of struggle in building something that put him through nine days of constant terror. He flew over hostile countries in total darkness and experienced hurricane-type weather in an airplane you could poke a pencil through. Then overnight he found himself in a New York high-rise with a stylist trying to dress him up in the latest fashions.

I often found myself pushed to the outer edge while I observed Dad’s transformation from a rugged adventurer to an uncomfortable man in a belted overcoat. Dad had spent ten years begging for money, getting doors slammed in his face, and working around the clock to build an airplane. Now he stood surrounded by people who were much more dangerous than anything he faced during the flight, and “she’s his daughter” became the phrase most associated with me.

My role blended mainly into the background, but, on occasion, people mistakenly asked me for my autograph. Each time felt like a Cinderella moment that helped me feel like more than just “his daughter.” Unfortunately, the moment passed when a confused look came over the person examining the autograph book. The name expected was not Jill Rutan. I can’t tell you how many autograph books out there have Jeana Yeager’s signature accompanied by my crossed-out name. I guess, at sixteen, I still needed to earn that signature request.

“You are only limited by what you can dream” and “It is darker than the inside of a cow” are two of my father’s favorite sayings. Quietly flying over the vast Indian Ocean on a moonless night proves he understands darkness, and, as far as making dreams a reality, he has a pretty good track record with that too. Having a dream is one of life’s greatest gifts. Dad knew he wanted to be a pilot from the second his mother raced down an old country road with his balsa wood model airplane strapped to the car’s roof, creating a homemade wind tunnel.

My dream at that time was a New York modeling contract, and one landed in my lap. Observing life from the corner of that big city hotel room has its perks. The chance of a modeling career took “Dick’s daughter” from a Manhattan high-rise to a basement room with a twin bed. But I loved it because I had a chance to pursue my dream. My new agency suggested I stay in New York to get some test shots and meet a few people before heading back home. I was thrilled! My mother and Jeana were not. A sixteen-year-old alone in New York didn’t seem like a great idea. Dad disagreed. He told me to pursue my dream and, after handing me $100, he packed up and left.

Not wanting to limit his daughter’s life, Dad allowed me to experience the pursuit of a dream. What followed were dozens of photo shoots and late-night critiques. I learned to take criticism, to eat on the cheap, and to make it back to my room late at night without being kidnapped. Dad wasn’t one to make the pursuit of a dream easy. He wanted me to experience New York without the temporary sparkle of fame. He succeeded.

Sometimes the path to a dream takes you to unexpected...

Erscheint lt. Verlag 2.2.2024
Sprache englisch
Themenwelt Sachbuch/Ratgeber Gesundheit / Leben / Psychologie Lebenshilfe / Lebensführung
ISBN-13 979-8-3509-2619-4 / 9798350926194
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