Davinci Aircraft - Most people familiar with or interested in early attempts at human-powered flight are familiar with the work of Leonardo Da Vinci and his flying machine, the famous 15th century artist and inventor. It begs the question, did Da Vinci's machine actually work, or fly successfully, some four hundred years before anyone else could accomplish the task? This is a question that has been debated for decades. There is no clear hard evidence that specifically says yes, but if you examine the materials of Leonardo and his contemporaries, you can turn up some pretty interesting facts that prove that YES, the machine did work and Leonardo flew. Leonardo's First Flight The great bird sat on the edge of a hilltop ridge near Leonardo's chosen Vinci, its fustians and silks sighing and its broad wings shifting slightly in the wind. Niccolo, Tista, and Leonardo's stepfather, Achattabrigha, knelt under the wings and firmly held the pilot's harness. Andrea Verrochio's apprentices, Zoroastro da Peretola and Lorenzo de Credi, stood twenty-five feet apart and fastened the ends of the wings; it almost looks like their hands are full of big blue and gold rush wands. The two can be taken as caricatures of Il Magnifico and his brother Giuliano, as Zoroastro is dark, rough-skinned and ugly-faced next to the handsome Lorenzo de Credi. Such was the difference between Lorenzo and Giuliano di Medici, who stood with Leonardo a few feet from the Great Bird. Giuliano looked radiant in the morning sun, while Lorenzo looked bright, though he probably only cared about Leonardo. Zoroastro, ever impatient, looked at Leonardo and called out, "We are ready for you, Maestro." Leonardo nodded, but Lorenzo caught him and said, "Leonardo, there's no need. I love you as I love Giuliano, whether you choose to fly…or let wisdom win." Leonardo smiled and said, "I fly fide et amore." With faith and love. "You shall have both," said Lorenzo; and he walked beside Leonardo to the edge of the ridge and waved to the crowd standing far below on the edge of the natural clearing where Leonardo lands triumphantly. But the clearing was surrounded by a forest of pines and firs, which to his eyes looked like many roughly hewn spears and spears. A great shout in honor of the first citizen: the whole village was present, from the peasant to the peasant, summoned for the occasion by Il Magnifico, who had erected a large, multi-colored tent; his attendants and feet had been cooking and preparing for the banquet since dawn. His sister Bianca, Angelo Poliziano, Pico Della Mirandola, Bartolomeo Scala and Leonardo's friend Sandro Botticelli were also present to organize the celebration. They were all jerks, eagerly waiting for the Big Bird to fly. Leonardo waited until Lorenzo received his reward; but then, in order not to fall behind, he bowed and also waved his hand theatrically. The crowd below cheered for his beloved son and Leonardo turned to sit in the harness of his flying machine. He had seen his mother Caterina, a small figure looking up nervously, whispering a devotion, her hands over her eyes to block the sunlight. His father Piero stood by Giuliano de' Medici; both men were dressed as if they were going hunting. Piero did not speak to Leonardo. His already impressed face was drawn and stern, as if he were standing before a judge awaiting judgment. Lying in a prone position under the wing and windshield mechanism on a base of boards shortened forward, Leonardo adjusted the loop around his head that controlled Big Bird's rudder and tested the raised hand crank and leg swings. and lowered his wings. "Careful," shouted Zoroastro, who had backed away from the moving wings. "Are you trying to kill us?" There was nervous laughter; but Leonardo was silent. Achattabrigha tied Leonardo tightly to the rope that held him to his machine and said, "I pray for your success, Leonardo, my son. I love you." Leonardo turned to his stepfather, smelled the sweet scent of Caterina's herbs—garlic and sweet shallots—on his breath and clothes, and looked into the old man's squinting pale blue eyes; and later it dawned on her, with the buried power of her feelings, that she loved the man who had spent his life sweating by the stove-fire and thinking with his great yellow-nailed hands. "I love you too… dad. And I feel safe in your prayers." This seemed to please Achattabrigha, for she checked the rope one last time, kissed Leonardo, and patted him on the shoulder; then he stepped away, as reverently as if he were stepping back from an icon in a cathedral. "Congratulations, Leonardo," said Lorenzo. Others wish you luck. Father nodded and smiled; and Leonardo, taking the weight of the Great Bird on his back, rose to his feet. Niccolo, Zoroastro and Lorenzo de Credi helped him to the edge of the ridge. There was a cheer from below. "Maestro, I hope it's me," Niccolo said. Tista stood beside him, looking longingly at Leonardo's flying mechanism. "Look this time, Nicco," Leonardo said, nodding at Tista. "Think you're flying in the sky, because this machine is yours too. And you're with me." "Thank you, Leonardo." "Now step away... for we must fly," said Leonardo; and he looked down, as if for the first time, as if every tree and upward-turned face were magnified; every smell, every sound and movement is clear and distinct. In a way, the world is broken down into its components, all in the blink of an eye; and in the distance are the waves and the waves of the land like a green sea with long brown shadows; and above the still water are various human-inhabited buildings: churches and camp-houses and cottages and sheds and cottages and wrinkled fields. Leonardo felt a sudden vertigo as his heart pounded in his chest. The wind blew from the northwest and Leonardo felt it flow around him like breath. The treetops rustle, whisper as the warm air rises into the sky. Thermal updrafts flow invisibly into the sky. Attract her. His wings trembled in the gust of wind; and Leonardo knew it had to be now, so he was taken off the cliff unprepared. He launched himself into the water, pushing into the abyss as if he were diving off a cliff into the sea. For a moment, as he dived down, he felt euphoric. He flew, carried by the wind that caught him in a cold grip. Then came the throbbing, nauseating fear. Although he tightened the car's windshield and leg guard, which made his large wings flap, he could not keep himself aloft. His thrusts and kicks had become almost reflexive after hours of practice: one leg pushed back to lower a pair of wings while he furiously moved the car mirror to raise the other, turning his arm first to the left, then to the right. He worked the mechanism with every two hundred pounds of force he counted, his muscles aching from the strain. Although the Big Bird can function as a glider, the gears have too much friction to provide adequate thrust; and the wind resistance is too strong. He could barely lift his wings. He fell down. The cool and stinging wind turned into a constant sigh in the ears. His clothes flapped against his skin like the fabric of his failed wings, while mountains, sky, woods, and rocks swirled around him, then fell; and he felt the wet shock of his recurring dream, his nightmare falling into the void. But he fell through the soft light, by himself like butter. Below him was the familiar ground of his youth, rising up against all logic and rushing toward the sky to claim it. He could see his father's house and in the distance the Apuan Alps and the ancient cobblestone roads built before Rome was an empire. The sensation takes on the texture of a dream; and he prayed, surprising himself, even as he gazed into the purple shadows of the trees below. However, he pedaled diligently and turned the mirror mechanism of the car. All was quiet and still, but the wind whistled in his ears like the sea heard by a clam. His fear left him, carried away by the same breathing wind. Then he felt a gentle spray of warm air around him. And suddenly, impossibly, giddily, he stood up. The wings are locked straight out. They don't match. But he got up anyway. It was as if the hand of God had lifted Leonardo to heaven; and he, Leonardo, remembered that he had lost his falcon in the air, and was looking for them
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