Hell hath no fury...

... like the month of March scorned. Or at least taken for granted. This year's March failed to live up to its "In like a lion" reputation and, well, we got complacent. The last thing I expected to see this morning was a coating of snow and the ever-infuriating frozen rain. But there it was! And on delivery day! That's worse than a forehead pimple on the day of the prom!

ABF Trucking called early to notify me that I could expect the truck around 9:45. They've been pleasant to deal with on both of my deliveries and they go out of their way to keep you in the loop, which is why I wasn't surprised when I got another call just a few minutes after the predicted delivery time to tell me that the driver was running a little behind schedule. I really appreciate good service like that! They had also warned me that the truck they were using this time was a little bigger than the last one. They weren't kidding!





There was no way I wanted that behemoth backing its way up my driveway, but fortunately I had taken their warning to heart and asked Good Neighbor Bob to bring his van down to the house. The driveway was too icy for us to try to carry a 227 lb. box up to the garage, so we'd need to transfer the box to the van and drive it up. Getting the box from the trailer to the van was easy since we were able to make copious use of our good friend Mr. Gravity.



Mr. Gravity: he's always there when you need him, and just as often when you don't.

The ever-watchful but seldom courageous Brave Sir Hogarth monitored the situation from the security of his ambush position:



The box was shaped differently than I had expected. For some reason, possibly because of the shape of a fuselage, I thought that the box would be taller and shorter than this:



The "lid" of the box was attached with coarse-thread screws rather than the staples that had been used on the tail kit box, so it was much easier to remove. An electric drill with a bit is always going to be faster and neater than a crowbar. The first step in unpacking one of these things is to remove the brown packing paper. Van's knows that the vast majority of these kits are going to be shipped well over a thousand miles by potentially uncaring trucking companies, so they use the pulped and processed product of a small forest to protect the pieces.

It would be a false economy to do otherwise, but it does present the recipient with a bit of a problem: what to do with all of that paper? Me, I just wadded it up and stuck it in trashbags to go out with the normal trash. Had I thought of it sooner, I might have soaked it down with a hose and tossed it into the back yard to return to the soil from which it sprang. Well, if I had thought of it sooner and if it hadn't been 35 effing (and I don't mean 'F' as in Mr. Gravity's close personal friend, Dr. Fahrenheit) degrees outside.

So, here it is without the top layer of paper:



From there it's simply a matter of unwrapping each of the parts bundles and hauling it all down to the shop. The white, flat piece leaning against the workbench is the plexiglass (or Lexan, or equivalent) for the back window:



The closest flat aluminum piece is the instrument panel part of the firewall:

The big aluminum piece is the center section that I waited so long for:

It was worth the wait. It's a complex, critical piece, and I sure wouldn't have wanted to squeeze or drive those big, fat rivets:



Inventory is next. I'm not sure when I will get to it as I'm not going to be around much next week.

And so it begins!

I woke up at about 2:30 am last night, deep in those late night, self-doubt hours when you often find yourself questioning whether you have any idea whatsoever regarding what you're doing with your life, your career, and as it turns out, whether or not you can really build an airplane. No sense stewing over it, not with the tail kit scheduled to arrive in the morning. But still... it can be hard to convince yourself of anything during those hours - it usually takes the light of day to wash away the anxiety. I muddled through the night reminding myself that I am not trying to build an airplane. No, for the sake of my sanity, I told myself that I am trying to build the tail end of an airplane. And really, that's nothing much more than an aluminum canoe, right? And I built a kayak... piece of cake!

The call finally came late in the morning: "I've got a delivery in my truck for you, I'm downtown, and I should be there in 20 minutes." Well, more accurately, I supplied the 20 minute enroute time estimate, but he didn't disagree. I had done all of the preparation that I could think of, even going so far as to make a trip to Harbor Freight (which I will grant you is not exactly a sacrifice on my part) to pick up a mover's dolly in case the truck was too large to come up the driveway. I had also pre-arranged with a neighbor to help with any lifting that might be needed.

As it turns out, the truck was able to navigate the driveway just fine:



That whole "This End Up" thing? I guess it's overrated:



I don't think the driver was used to quite as much fanfare:



He was very curious about just what was in the box such that it would generate so much interest. When told that it was a kit to build an airplane, he was curious as to how one finds the time to devote to something like that. I told him that I had plenty of spare hours since I don't watch TV.

"Well, ya gotta wife, don't ya? Doesn't she find stuff for you to do?"

Well, yes, but not so much as to be a burden.

The move from the back of the truck and into the garage was much easier than I had feared. It helped that I had plenty of neighborly assistance:



He brought a small army!

I like the big, blood red dollar sign. Ya got dat right!!



The metal work begins immediately:



The contents are very tightly and securely packed:



I hope I don't have to put everything back!



There was still a little damage, though. I think it can just be bent back into place:



Stuff is packed inside of stuff that's packed inside of other stuff:







There are five pages of packing list. Everything needs to be inventoried and placed on shelves for storage:



Even the builders manual has to be assembled. Surprisingly, at least the holes are punched in the pages for you:



At the end of the day, there is an enormous amount of packing paper to get rid of. It looks like Xmas morning! And this is only half of it; an equally large pile was still up in the garage:



Finally there was nothing left to do but one thing:



Stand there and wonder just what in the hell I've gotten myself into!! Where do I start??

The answer is simple: in the fine tradition of Schmetterling Aviation, we just get to it. It's obvious, really: Vee schtart vitt dee tail:



But before we can do that, we must finish the inventory and write down where everything is stored: