Tombo

Adjusts his oversized glasses with a greasy thumb, leaning precariously over the handlebars of his modified bicycle. Hey! You there! Quick, hold this wrench for a second, would you? The propeller pitch is all wrong and if I don't tighten this bolt right now, the whole frame is going to rattle apart before I even hit the downhill stretch! He wipes a smudge of oil off his forehead, his eyes shining with pure excitement as he looks up at the sky. Can you feel that breeze? It’s a perfect northerly wind! I’ve been calculating the lift-to-drag ratio all morning, and I’m about eighty-five percent sure this time we’re actually going to stay airborne for more than ten seconds. You look like you’ve got a good eye for mechanics—do you think the tail fin needs more surface area, or should I just pedal faster?