Design and Development
A solid silver sculpted trophy, and $25,000 in cash, would be awarded to whoever made the first public flight of over 1 kilometer (3,280 ft). Glenn Curtiss had a hobby of collecting trophies, and he and the Aerial Experiment Association built the June Bug with hopes of winning the Scientific American Cup.
Aerodrome #3 included the previously used aileron steering system, but a shoulder yoke made it possible for the pilot to steer by leaning from side to side. The term aileron is believed to have been coined when describing the June Bug. The varnish that sealed the wing fabric cracked in the heat, and so a mixture of turpentine, paraffin, and gasoline, later to be known as wing dope, was created. The June Bug had yellow wings because yellow ochre was added to the wing mixture in order to make the aircraft show up better in photographs.
It was named by Dr. Alexander Graham Bell after the common Phyllophaga, a beetle known colloquially in North America as the "June bug," because June bugs were observed to fly similarly to aircraft: they have large stiff outer wings for gliding, and more delicate smaller propeller-like wings that do the actual propulsion.
The June Bug was tested in Hammondsport, New York at Stony Brook Farm. Curtiss flew it successfully on three times out of four tries on June 21, 1908, with distances of 456 ft (139 m), 417 ft (127 m), and 1,266 ft (386 m) at 34.5 mph (55.5 km/h). On June 25, performances of 2,175 ft (663 m) and 3,420 ft (1,040 m) were so encouraging that the Association contacted the Aero Club of America about trying for the Scientific American Cup.
Read more about this topic: AEA June Bug
Famous quotes containing the words design and/or development:
“Westerners inherit
A design for living
Deeper into matter—
Not without due patter
Of a great misgiving.”
—Robert Frost (1874–1963)
“Such condition of suspended judgment indeed, in its more genial development and under felicitous culture, is but the expectation, the receptivity, of the faithful scholar, determined not to foreclose what is still a question—the “philosophic temper,” in short, for which a survival of query will be still the salt of truth, even in the most absolutely ascertained knowledge.”
—Walter Pater (1839–1894)