Hold Your Helmets And Say A Prayer - Electric (Maybe?) Jet Bike Revolution Has Arrived
Image Credit: Volonaut.
Apparently, regular motorbikes aren't quite terrifying enough for some people. You know, the ones that keep you a mere few inches from the unforgiving tarmac. Now we're adding the delightful prospect of plummeting from the sky. Perfect.
The one and only Tomasz Patan, the alleged mastermind behind this "Volonaut Airbike," is at it again. Apparently, after his previous foray into personal flight with that Jetson contraption – which looks about as safe as a toddler juggling chainsaws – he's decided we all need a jet-powered contraption to whizz through the air like a bloke in a Halloween costume. And what better timing than May the Fourth? Subtle, Tomasz, ever so subtle.
The internet is in a state of bewildered fascination. "WHOA! But...?" pretty much sums it up. We see the videos – some grainy, some suspiciously devoid of real engine noise, and featuring an airborne chap dressed as a Stormtrooper. One can only assume his aim is better from up there. Though, let's be honest, even strapped to a rocket, a Stormtrooper probably couldn't hit the broadside of a barn.
Volonaut, the company behind the flying invention, claims this "superbike for the skies" is "seven times lighter than a typical motorcycle." Right. Let's unpack that a bit, shall we? My decades spent sniffing around oily bits of metal tell me a "superbike" isn't exactly a featherweight. We're usually talking somewhere in the region of, oh, I don't know, maybe around 390 pounds. Seven times lighter than that would put this airborne wonder at a dainty 55.7 pounds. Which, frankly, sounds about as plausible as finding a polite traffic warden.
Image Credit: Volonaut.
Being the diligent sort, I decided to delve into the murky world of motorcycle weights. I pulled up the specs on a few modern two-wheeled steeds – your Yamahas, your Hondas, even a lumbering Gold Wing. The average? A hefty 488 pounds. Now, divide that by seven, and we get a slightly more believable, yet still suspiciously light, 69.7 pounds. That's lighter than my luggage for a particularly spontaneous weekend trip to Spain.
So, what's the big secret, Volonaut? Are they guarding this information like it's the recipe for Coca-Cola, or perhaps the actual plans for the Death Star? Their website talks about "jet propulsion" and "no spinning propellers," which apparently allows for some rather exciting maneuvers through "tight quarters." The video does show a blast of air downwards, reminiscent of a Harrier jump jet. Hot air? Maybe a sneaky bit of smoke I spied suggests actual combustion...
If there are no propellers, we're likely talking about some sort of miniature jet turbine. Jet-A fuel weighs about 6.7 pounds per gallon. My back-of-a-fag-packet calculations suggest this Airbike would need around 300 pounds of thrust to keep its feathery 70-odd-pound frame, plus a presumably less feathery pilot, airborne. A decent little JetCat P400 Pro turbine kicks out about 95 pounds of thrust and weighs nine pounds. Three of those would fit within my imaginary weight budget and could probably be shoehorned into the airframe.
The snag? Each of those thirsty little blighters guzzles about 7.5 to 9 gallons of Jet-A per hour. So, that single gallon in the tank? Best-case scenario, you're looking at a flight time of about two to three minutes. More fuel equals more weight, which then demands more thrust. It's a vicious cycle, the old "mass penalty loop," as the clever chaps in white coats call it.
Image Credit: Volonaut.
And that's just the start of the very long list of questions. Is that "seven times lighter" figure the dry weight? What happens if one of these miniature jet engines decides to have a sulk mid-flight? Does the obligatory action camera on a selfie stick come as standard for filming your descent into the nearest rhododendron bush?
Look, this is all just educated guesswork on my part. When the good people at Volonaut finally decide to lift the veil of secrecy and tell us what's actually powering this thing, how much it really weighs, and what sort of witchcraft keeps it from becoming an expensive lawn dart, I'll probably look like a right twit. And you know what? I sincerely hope I am wrong. Because despite my reservations, the inner child in me – the one who still dreams of dodging Ewoks on a forest moon – desperately wants one of these jet-powered lunacies. Just promise me a parachute comes as standard, eh?
