Welcome To Baruth Quad-Heli-Port And Repair Facility

Early last year, I bought a pair of first-generation quadcopters on clearance at my local Micro Center. I flew them around for a while, then let my son try them. He quickly became a better quadcopter pilot than I was --- but he was also a far more daring quadcopter pilot than I was, and we got to the point where I couldn't fix them. I bought him a mini-quad three weeks ago.

This is where we are now.

We have camera quadcopters, stunt quadcopters, and very fast quadcopters. They take four different specifications of battery and use three different controllers. We also have a proper remote control helicopter, which is fun but not as fun as the quads. Some of the quads have "flip buttons". Others have an "expert mode" where you manipulate the stick at high speed to flip them. John does that much better than I do. Last night, while I was trying to take a phone call, he inverted a quad above my head and dropped it straight into my hair, on purpose.

That caused me to temporarily lose my good quadcopter humor. "Let's say it was genius, but let's say it was also a bad idea," John offered by way of apology.

These quads break with tiresome regularity. The Hubsan ones go through propellers like Pookie went through crack. You can get them from Amazon but only the true Hubsan OEM props work perfectly. Two nights ago I found myself haggling with a kid at the local computer store so he'd pull three propellers off a returned model. Had he refused, I would have had to buy another quadcopter just to get eight more props.

We've also used the 'copters for teaching opportunities. When the lower rotor in our "regular" helicopter stopped spinning, I traced the problem to a broken solder joint to the second motor. I then had a chance to explain soldering to John, who covered his eyes while I put a new bead on the wire. Someone in the heavens decided to take pity on me; the fix worked and I was elevated as a father in my son's opinion.

An invert-to-full-power went wrong, leading to a high-speed crash into a tile floor, and John cracked a rotor pinion on one of the Symas. I showed him how SuperGlue works. The first time, our glue joint only held for ten seconds of flight. The rotor departed at high speed and the quad crashed faster than the eye could follow. Our second attempt was better, saving us a $2.50 charge and a four-week wait for the new part.

Yesterday I came home to find a Mylar bag from China on the front step. Inside it was the Syma X11 I'd forgotten about ordering. It's the biggest, heaviest quad we've flown since we got rid of our originals. The controls were touchy and I crashed it three or four times. Then I handed it to my six-year-old boy. The Syma lifted off gently, spun in mid-air, then performed a forward flip. While I watched, yokel-faced with amazement, John landed it on the parapet of his Lego castle.

"I think I am a drone pilot level four point three," he said. "You are like a three point one. But don't worry," he said, misunderstanding the look on my face, "I'm still proud of you."