Hardware store foam, glue that wouldn't stick, motors we hoped were powerful enough, three days of work in a storm — and a golf-cart launch in front of thousands. This is the story of Big Red, why it failed, and exactly what changes before this year's 20-foot cargo plane.
| Problem | What happened | The fix for the 20-footer |
|---|---|---|
| No real design | 10-ft wing, big fuselage, a mock-up — and everything else decided while building | Design complete before the first cut |
| Glue vs. coated foam | The foam's plastic film let go overnight; wings pulled apart | Every material and joint tested first |
| Unknown weight | No weight plan → no power plan → full throttle and it barely moved | Weight budget and thrust math up front |
Flite Fest is — as Preston puts it — a giant demolition derby in the sky. A storm shut down flying on day one, everyone bailed to a nearby airfield, and that's where I met Preston Goes. He'd flown a plane exactly once. His dream first scratch build? A massive combat plane. Somehow I became the guy making that happen.
Next thing I know I'm at Home Depot with a couple of strangers buying foam, wood, and anything that looked like it could become an airplane, and we're converting an RV into a workshop while the storm rages outside. Chaotic, rushed, and honestly one of the most fun projects I've ever been part of.
We knew the plane needed a 10-foot wing, a large fuselage, and room for a giant net. That was… basically the whole plan. Structure, electronics, weight, balance — all decided mid-build.
Here's the thing about that: winging it genuinely works on a small foam board plane, because at that size mistakes are light and cheap. At a 10-foot span, every brace adds real weight, every change moves the balance point, and every extra pound demands more from motors you've already bought. We were creating problems faster than we could solve them.
This is exactly why I tell everyone to run their numbers before cutting foam — it's the whole reason the Airplane Designer exists. Thirty seconds of wingspan-and-style input gets you a weight estimate, a balance point, and a power plan. On a giant, skipping that step isn't a shortcut; it's the long way around.
The hardware store foam had a thin plastic coating. Our glue looked fine going on — and the next morning the wings were pulling themselves apart. Hours of work, undone overnight.
We peeled sections apart, tried different adhesives, stripped some of the coating, roughed up surfaces, and rebuilt. It cost us huge time, added weight, and worst of all: we never fully trusted the structure again.
The general rule: insulation foams and coated boards are not paper-faced foam board — hot glue and regular CA often grip the film, not the foam. Glue two scraps, let them cure overnight, and try to rip them apart before you commit a wing to it. (For standard foam board, the adhesives on my gear page are the proven combo.)
Because we never knew what the finished plane would weigh, we couldn't size motors, props, or batteries — we bought what was available at the event and hoped. Full throttle on the runway: it barely moved.
We stripped drag, swapped packs, and eventually jumped from 3S to 6S — real power at last, but by then we'd missed our combat slot, and the plane still struggled to lift off. Was it also a balance problem? Honestly, we still don't know.
The math that would have saved us: a big, slow hauler wants roughly 100+ watts per pound and about 0.7:1 thrust-to-weight. Know the weight, and the motor, prop, and battery choices fall out automatically — that's the calculator math, and it works at 2 feet or 20.
Final day, one last chance, and a suggestion: launch it off the roof of a moving golf cart. We couldn't test it first — didn't know how fast to drive, how the plane would leave the platform, or how much control we'd have. Our first full-system test was the launch itself, in front of the whole crowd.
The cart accelerated. Big Red left the platform. And dropped straight to the ground. "Yeah, that's what you call a failure."
This year Preston and I are building a 20-foot cargo plane — twice the size, strong enough to carry smaller planes and drop them mid-air. And this time we're doing it in the right order: design first, test every material and joint, budget the weight, and plan the power before a single cut. When we roll up to the event, the question shouldn't be whether it flies — it should be what ridiculous thing we drop next.
Update: part two is live — the spar, foam, and glue testing that had to happen first.
The design-and-build series starts next week — subscribe so you don't miss it. And yes, at some point, Preston's going back on the sticks.
