What change my whole life ?

What Changed My Life?

I was eight years old when I saw a military helicopter up close for the first time.

Not in a book. Not on television.

A real one.

It landed near my hometown, and for an eight-year-old boy it might as well have arrived from another planet.

I remember the noise. The wind. The smell. The machine itself — complicated, mechanical, powerful and somehow alive.

And then something happened that changed everything.

They took me for a flight.

I don't remember how long it lasted. It probably wasn't very long.

But when you're eight years old, time works differently.

For those few minutes, the world I knew disappeared beneath me.

I was flying.

And somewhere up there, without knowing it yet, I made a decision that would stay with me for the rest of my life:

One day, I wanted to fly my own machine.

A Dream That Refused to Go Away

Years passed.

Life, as usual, had its own plans.

School. Work. Responsibilities. Bills. Projects. Successes. Failures. All the ordinary things that slowly push childhood dreams into a drawer marked “maybe someday.”

But some dreams are remarkably stubborn.

This one refused to disappear.

Aviation kept coming back.

Aircraft fascinated me not only because they fly, but because of how they fly. The mechanics. The structures. The compromises. The solutions hidden inside seemingly simple components.

I wanted to understand them.

And eventually, understanding wasn't enough.

I wanted to build something of my own.

Why a Gyroplane?

A helicopter was obviously out of the question.

I may be stubborn, but I'm not completely insane.

Well...

not completely.

A conventional airplane was possible, but it wasn't what I was looking for.

Then I discovered gyroplanes.

And something clicked.

Here was a machine with an extraordinary combination of characteristics: mechanically simpler than a helicopter, capable of flying slowly, compact, relatively economical, and based on one of the most fascinating principles in aviation — autorotation.

It wasn't a helicopter.

It wasn't an airplane.

And somehow, that made it even more interesting.

The more I learned, the more questions I had.

And eventually one question became impossible to ignore:

What would my gyroplane look like if I designed it myself?

So I Decided to Build One

There was only one small problem.

I wasn't an aircraft manufacturer.

I didn't have an aerospace corporation behind me, a huge engineering department or a warehouse full of certified aircraft components.

What I had was curiosity, practical engineering experience, access to modern design tools and an unhealthy tendency to keep working on a problem until it finally gives up.

So I started learning.

Gyroplanes. Structures. Materials. Mechanics. Aerodynamics. Control systems. Rotor heads. Landing gear. Engines. Composites. Manufacturing methods.

One question led to another.

One solution created three new problems.

Some ideas worked.

Some looked brilliant until reality explained, rather impolitely, that they weren't.

And then I changed them.

Again.

And again.

That process eventually became RSG Diamond.

From Dream to Engineering

Diamond didn't appear as a finished design.

It evolved.

Early concepts became drawings. Drawings became CAD models. CAD models exposed problems. Problems demanded new solutions.

A full-scale cabin mock-up was built to verify something a computer screen cannot fully answer: how does a real human being actually fit inside this thing?

Seating position, visibility, controls, dimensions and ergonomics could finally be experienced at full scale.

What we learned went back into the design.

The aircraft continued to evolve.

Structure. Landing gear. Suspension. Rotor head. Flight controls. Propulsion installation. Materials. Manufacturing methods.

Piece by piece.

Decision by decision.

And every time reality disagreed with the computer, reality won.

Why Do This?

That's probably the question a normal person would ask.

Why spend thousands of hours designing an aircraft when you could simply buy one?

There isn't a particularly sensible answer.

Because buying one would give me an aircraft.

Building Diamond gives me the journey.

It gives me problems I have never solved before.

It forces me to learn things I didn't know yesterday.

It produces those wonderful moments when something that existed only in your head suddenly appears on a computer screen — and eventually becomes a real piece of metal sitting on the workshop floor.

And perhaps most importantly, it brings me back to that eight-year-old boy looking at a helicopter and thinking:

I want to understand this.

Where We Are Today

What started as a childhood dream has become a real engineering project.

The full-scale cabin mock-up has been completed.

Diamond has moved into detailed CAD development. Its structure, landing gear, suspension, rotor head, controls and other major systems are taking shape.

Materials are being selected and sourced.

Manufacturing decisions are no longer theoretical.

The project is gradually crossing the line between designing an aircraft and actually building one.

There is still a long road ahead.

There will be mistakes.

There will be changes.

There will almost certainly be moments when I look at some newly discovered problem and wonder why the hell I ever started this.

And then I'll probably make another coffee, open Blender and carry on.

Because after all these years, one thing hasn't changed.

I still want to see my own machine in the sky.

And one day, RSG Diamond will take off.

Just like that helicopter that once took an eight-year-old boy into the air and changed his life.