What change my whole life ?

When you’re eight years old, it’s freezing outside, dachshunds are bending in half trying to take a corner, and military helicopters are flying over your town… you just know something is about to happen.

I must have been around eight when my world changed. It was a January Friday, the kind of cold that makes dogs bark twice just to warm up. The river in my hometown had frozen so hard it looked like someone poured concrete into it and forgot to smooth it out. Ice piled up like badly stacked building blocks, and everyone feared that if it broke loose, half the town would be underwater.

For several days, two military helicopters had been stationed at the local stadium. Real machines — the kind you feel in your ribs when they start up, with the smell of aviation fuel that stays in your clothes for days. Army engineers were flying over the river, blowing up the ice to save the town. For an eight‑year‑old, this was like watching an action movie live, without popcorn and without commercial breaks.

Now picture me: small kid, nose red like a traffic light, standing there every day after school, staring at those machines like hypnotized. And that Friday… school could wait. Helicopters couldn’t.

For six hours I followed one of the soldiers around, pestering him like a mosquito in August: “Sir, please talk to the pilot, please ask him to take me, I’ll be quiet, I won’t touch anything, I’ll sit still like a mouse!”

And he kept repeating the same thing: “Not allowed. Not possible. Too dangerous.”

Time passed, school hours were ending, and I knew I had to go home. I threw my backpack over the fence and was about to climb after it when I suddenly heard behind me:

“Hey, kid… you wanna fly?”

I spun around like a cat hearing a can of tuna open and sprinted toward him. Turned out one of the officers wanted to take his son for a short flight after the day’s operations. Thanks to that — I got a seat too.

And a military helicopter pilot can do a bit more than an ordinary pilot.

We took off “from the front wheel,” shot up like a rocket, skimmed a meter above the frozen river, and then flew over the whole town. For an eight‑year‑old — absolute outer space.

I came home with a grin so wide it nearly touched my ears. I immediately started telling my mom what I had experienced — because how could I not brag about flying in a military helicopter? And of course, it became obvious that I hadn’t been at school that day… let’s say I was “absent for higher reasons.”

Justice had to be served, so my dear mother used a plastic whisk to “dust off” the area of my body that makes contact with chairs. Tears were shed, but the grin never left my face. It was worth every second of pain for the joy of flying.

From that moment on, I knew flying wasn’t a hobby. It was an incurable condition.

All through school I dreamed of becoming a helicopter pilot. Life took me in a different direction, but the dream stayed. A helicopter is an expensive toy — too expensive. But when I discovered gyroplanes… I realized this was a path I could actually take.

Buying one? Impossible.

So I decided to build one.

I studied designs, learned everything I could, and started creating my own. Today I’m at the stage where a full‑scale 1:1 mock‑up is being built. When will the prototype be ready? I don’t know — that depends on money.

But I know one thing:

The RSG Diamond will take to the sky.

Just like that helicopter that once took an eight‑year‑old boy and changed his life.