Browsed by
Category: airplanes

Look, If You Can’t Even Figure Out Which End Of Your Go-Kart The Propeller Goes On, My Mom Won’t Let Me Fly With You

Look, If You Can’t Even Figure Out Which End Of Your Go-Kart The Propeller Goes On, My Mom Won’t Let Me Fly With You


Is that the coolest little flying rig you ever did see? It would make a great mail plane for places where no one lives and doesn’t get any mail anyway. You could land that thing just about anywhere that isn’t underwater. It’s got big, cushy tires for bouncing along the interstate in short bursts, too, to freak out the unsuspecting. Then you could strafe any survivors. Lotsa fun.

It says the fellow designed the plane himself. Like you couldn’t tell by looking at it. Here’s his website: Bushplanedesign.com

[Thanks to our friend Casey Klahn for sending that one along.]

That Reminds Me: Didja Hear About The Mountain-Climbing Economists?

That Reminds Me: Didja Hear About The Mountain-Climbing Economists?

Three economists are climbing a mountain. When they get halfway to the top, they’re too tired to continue, so they stop to rest. Ben the economist asks his friend, “What mountain is this? Nothing looks familiar.” Paul, the second economist says, “I don’t know, I was looking at my watch the whole time, Let’s ask Alan.” Alan, the third economist, studies his charts for five minutes, and then says, “I’m absolutely certain we’re on top of that mountain way over there.”

I have no idea what that has to do with this dude landing his Super Cub on top of this tiny mountaintop. Please consult your economist for further information.

[Thanks to our friend Gerard at American Digest for sending that one along]

A Merlin V-12? Oh, That’ll Fit In A ’55 Chevy. No Prob

A Merlin V-12? Oh, That’ll Fit In A ’55 Chevy. No Prob

If you’ve got a spare Supermarine Spitfire engine lying around, and have unlimited time and money, you too can own a 1955 Chevy Bel Air with a 3000 HP engine rammed into it. It helps if you’re crazy, or Australian, which is a lot the same. But then again, I’m an American, which is like an Australian only with better diction.

Somewhat disappointed that the owner wouldn’t allow the host to let this bad boy off the leash. I wanted to see it take off, or explode, or go supernova, or whatever might happen when that sort of pedal hits that sort of metal. A feller can dream.