There is no wonder that an aeroplane race should create such absorbing interest, almost amounting to a craze, in the mind of the public directly interested. Speed is the one thing about the aeroplane that appeals both to the practical and to the imaginative man; the man of business, to whom saving time means saving money, and the poet, or the man of leisure, to whom the words "make a bee-line"–that is, an air line–have always stood for speed and directness. Now in earth or rail friction-machines, the limit of speed has almost been reached, except in the case of monorail vehicles, and there seems to be little progress in this direction. With the aeroplane, on the contrary, speed is only in its infancy. None of the difficulties that check the development of speed in the automobile or locomotive attend the aeroplane. What means speed now–ninety or ninety-five miles an hour–merely marks a stage in the machine's development; a hundred and fifty an hour is even now within its possibilities, and a much greater speed is by no means beyond the vision of the present generation. What the boys of to-day are going to see when they grow up no one can foretell. It is largely a question of motive power that and the reduction of resistance. In the latter respect I have already materially cut down the resistance of the newest type of Curtiss machine, in order to increase the speed. I was able, as I have said, to win the International Cup at Rheims in 1909 with a speed of forty-seven and one-half miles an hour. At Los Angeles during the past winter my latest type was able to fly more than seventy miles an hour, and the same type of engine, an eight-cylinder, has also been made more powerful, thus the increased speed is due to the improvements in the lines of the machine, the reduction of surface, and the controls, and the increase of the power of the motor.
There is still room for reduction of surfaces, minor improvements in the general outlines and in the control; but the largest element in any increase of speed must rest with the development of the motor. Increased power is the tendency, with as much reduction in weight as possible. Personally, I can't see much room for reduction in weight. At present I am using a motor of my own manufacture that weighs but three pounds to the horse-power. This I consider extremely light as compared, for instance, with the engines used in submarines of the Navy, which weigh from sixty to seventy pounds to the horse-power. Still, there will be some reduction in weight per horse-power.
With the great speed that will undoubtedly mark the aeroplane flights even of the near future, the physical endurance of the operator will count for a great deal in long flights. By the time we can fly much over a hundred miles an hour there will have to be some means of protection devised for the operator, for anyone who has travelled sixty or seventy miles an hour in an automobile knows how uncomfortable such a trip becomes if it keeps up over long distances. The driver of an aeroplane sitting out in front unprotected causes far more "head-resistance." It will be an easy matter to arrange some sort of protection for him.
How strong this "head-resistance" can be, I realised in a curious experience while racing with Ely at Los Angeles, going at probably sixty-five miles an hour. I looked upward to see just where Ely was flying, and as I raised my head the wind got under my eyelids and puffed them out like toy balloons. For a moment I was confused and could scarcely see, but as soon as I turned my gaze on the ground the wind pressure forced the lids back into their normal position.
SAFER THAN AUTOMOBILE RACES
I believe there are fewer dangers in racing aeroplanes than in racing automobiles. Races run over the ground have to contend against obstructions to the course, tire troubles, and "skidding" on a wet track, or in making sharp turns. None of these exist in the race in the air. The course is always clear, there is no "track," wet or dry, and as for the turns that look so desperate to the inexperienced observer on the ground, the operator, far from slipping out of his seat as he "banks" sharply, sits tight and feels as if he were going on an even keel. If you can imagine how the water in a pail would feel as you swing the pail around your head so fast that not a drop spills, you can realise the sense of stability that the aviator feels as he whirls around a circular course at a tremendous rate of speed, in fact, once an aeroplane is up in the air, it is often safer to travel fast than it is to travel slow.
ACCIDENTS
Of course it would be folly, in view of the list of accidents, fatal and otherwise, that the newspapers print and reprint every time a noted aviator falls, to assert that there is no danger in flying. I doubt if the American man, especially the American young man, would take to the aeroplane so enthusiastically if the sport were as safe as parlour croquet. There is, of course, always danger of something going wrong with an aeroplane in flight that may bring it down too quickly for safety, but unless the derangement is vital, an expert aviator can make a safe landing, even with a "dead" motor. And the dangers of flight are growing less and less every year as the machine is improved and as the aviator becomes more skilful and more experienced in air conditions. The report of the French Government for 1911 shows that there have been only one-tenth as many fatal accidents in proportion to the number of flights made, as in the first year of aviation, but each accident has made ten times as much stir.
INCREASE IN SKILL
Perhaps the greatest advancement in aviation during the past year has been due to the increased skill of the aviators. Men like Beachey, McCurdy, Willard, Brookins, Parmelee, Latham, Radley, and others who have made flights in this country, have shown remarkable strides in the art of flying. This advancement has been in experience–in knowing what to do in all sorts of weather–in taking advantage of air currents and in knowing how to make safe landings when trouble occurs. A year ago it would have looked like a desire to commit suicide to attempt some of the "stunts" these men now perform as a part of their daily exhibitions.