The Impossible Airplane

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✈️ I’m The Impossible Airplane — a custom-built Van’s RV-10 made to be flown by Jessica Cox, the world’s first armless pilot.
💪 Mission: Prove that disability doesn’t mean inability.
🌍 Built in a basement, bound for the world.
🛠️ Born from teamwork, in

Good news: I was officially becoming less drafty.This was the stage when the empennage started picking up side panels an...
05/15/2026

Good news: I was officially becoming less drafty.

This was the stage when the empennage started picking up side panels and real shape. What had been ribs, openings, and a lot of optimistic geometry was turning into something with sides, structure, and actual presence.

That’s one of my favorite moments in a build. The parts stop introducing themselves individually and start behaving like a team. The frame fills in. The workbench disappears under progress. And somebody always ends up halfway inside the structure trying to reach one last spot.

Airplane building is very elegant that way.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

This is the middle of the magic — where airplane building starts to look suspiciously like doing careful chores with lou...
05/13/2026

This is the middle of the magic — where airplane building starts to look suspiciously like doing careful chores with louder tools.

More sheet metal. More ribs. More rivets. More measuring, drilling, dimpling, sanding, fitting, and checking that the last thing was done right before moving on to the next thing.

From the outside, it might not look very glamorous. From the inside, this is exactly how trust gets built into an airplane. One hole lined up. One edge smoothed. One part held steady while somebody else makes the next move.

It’s also the stage where every table somehow holds both serious craftsmanship and a coffee can full of hardware, which feels extremely on brand for homebuilding.

I wasn’t becoming flashy yet. I was becoming solid.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

Progress report: the pilot came to inspect her airplane, the team got new shirts, and Chewie appeared to approve the ope...
05/07/2026

Progress report: the pilot came to inspect her airplane, the team got new shirts, and Chewie appeared to approve the operation.

Jessica and Patrick live a few thousand miles away, so they can’t just pop into the workshop whenever they want. That made this visit special — a chance to see the latest progress up close, ask questions, share ideas, and remind everyone exactly who this mission is for.

The builders got Impossible Airplane shirts, Jessica got to see the work in person, and Chewie handled morale support like a seasoned professional.

Some updates are measured in rivets. Some are measured in smiles, conversations, and the feeling that the people building the mission and the people flying it are all in the same room at last.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

Airplane building is a lot like good decision-making in the cockpit: check it, fit it, question it, take it apart, and t...
05/05/2026

Airplane building is a lot like good decision-making in the cockpit: check it, fit it, question it, take it apart, and try again until it’s right.

These photos capture one of the less glamorous parts of becoming real — organizing pieces, test-fitting bulkheads, inspecting rivets, taking assemblies back apart, and putting them together again just a little better than before.

From a distance, it probably looks like we kept doing the same thing expecting a different result. In fairness, that is suspiciously close to the pilot lifestyle. But this wasn’t madness. It was method.

That’s how trust gets built into aluminum: not by rushing to the riveting part, but by checking, correcting, and refusing to call “good enough” good enough.

A little crazy? Maybe.

Careful enough to make impossible fly? Absolutely.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

I have a heart now.After years of rivets, rebuilds, planning, patience, and more “well, that’s one more thing to solve” ...
05/05/2026

I have a heart now.

After years of rivets, rebuilds, planning, patience, and more “well, that’s one more thing to solve” moments than I can count, my Lycoming IO-540 engine has officially been mounted.

That is not just hardware hanging on my nose. That is 260 horsepower of donated belief from Lycoming Engines, installed by the amazing hands and minds of EAA Chapter 898 — the same team that has helped carry me from an impossible idea toward a runway.

Every major milestone brings us closer to proving something bigger than flight itself:

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

To Lycoming: thank you for giving me my heartbeat.

To EAA Chapter 898: thank you for helping me grow into the mission I was built for.

Next up: seeing what I look like with a Hartzell Propeller mounted out front. I have a feeling my nose is about to get a lot more aerodynamic.

For a while, I was mostly a very determined collection of flat parts. Then this happened.This was the stage when my tail...
04/30/2026

For a while, I was mostly a very determined collection of flat parts. Then this happened.

This was the stage when my tail frame started rising into three dimensions — bulkheads going vertical, side pieces moving into place, test fits happening, and the whole thing beginning to look less like sheet metal and more like actual airplane architecture.

It’s one of my favorite phases of a build, because this is where progress stops being theoretical. You can see the shape. You can feel the structure. You can also see a room full of people discovering that aluminum gets a lot more interesting once it refuses to stay flat.

There was fitting, moving, checking, taking things apart so they could be worked on properly, and putting them back together again. In other words: a very normal day in the life of an impossible airplane.

I wasn’t finished yet. But I was officially done being two-dimensional.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

Before I looked like an airplane, I looked like a really committed geometry project.This was the start of my empennage —...
04/28/2026

Before I looked like an airplane, I looked like a really committed geometry project.

This was the start of my empennage — flat parts, primered pieces, bulkheads, supports, and the first careful steps toward a tail section with actual shape. Not exactly glamorous yet, but definitely progress.

A cleco here. A rivet there. A little measuring, a little fitting, and suddenly the pieces started behaving less like sheet metal and more like intention.

Every airplane has a beginning. Mine just happened to begin by proving that flat parts can have big plans.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

I wasn’t built by guessing. I was built by people who could read a manual, roll a leading edge, set a cleco, and then do...
04/24/2026

I wasn’t built by guessing. I was built by people who could read a manual, roll a leading edge, set a cleco, and then do it all again when the parts issue said, “Round two.”

These photos show my elevator coming together the first time — plans open, measurements checked, leading edge rolled, clecos clicking into place, and the shape of a real airplane part finally showing up.

It all looked like solid progress, because it was. But later, this section was hit by the same parts problem that affected my rudder, and the work had to be redone.

That’s the thing about building something important: sometimes progress counts twice.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

How many tools do you need to build an airplane?More than you can fit in one photo.This was early elevator work, and the...
04/22/2026

How many tools do you need to build an airplane?

More than you can fit in one photo.

This was early elevator work, and the answer was apparently: bandsaw, drill, deburring tool, rivet gun, polishing wheel, clecos, tape, patience, experience, and at least one person giving aluminum a very serious look.

Piece by piece, the team shaped, trimmed, tapped, rolled, polished, and riveted me forward. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Bob held up one of the first “We Are Building The Impossible Airplane” shirts — which is a strong statement to make while you’re still covered in metal shavings, but I respect it.

Turns out he was right.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

Ah yes — this was the moment I stopped looking like an ambitious metal bookshelf and started looking like airplane parts...
04/17/2026

Ah yes — this was the moment I stopped looking like an ambitious metal bookshelf and started looking like airplane parts.

These photos show the skin going onto my horizontal stabilizer, covering all that careful internal work and giving this section its real shape. Suddenly the ribs, spars, and brackets weren’t just structure anymore. They were becoming something you could actually point at and say, “Okay, now I see it.”

There’s a special kind of magic in this stage of a build. One minute it’s all hidden geometry, clecos, and careful alignment. The next minute, I’m starting to look like I might someday belong in the sky.

Bob and the team kept everything straight, smooth, and true as the skin went on — because even the exciting part still has to be done with patience. Airplanes, it turns out, do not appreciate being assembled with vibes alone.

But this was a good day. A shiny, satisfying, “well would you look at that” kind of day.

Happy Wilbur Write Day!

Small brackets. Big responsibility.This was the internal build of my horizontal stabilizer — the part of my tail that he...
04/15/2026

Small brackets. Big responsibility.

This was the internal build of my horizontal stabilizer — the part of my tail that helps keep me steady in flight. It may not be the glamorous side of airplane building, but this is where alignment, strength, and patience start turning parts into trust.

Tucked inside were two custom-made pieces: HS-1008 Right and Left. They’re little brackets, but they play a big role in holding this section together. Proof that in airplane building, as in life, the smallest pieces can carry a lot.

Unlike my first rudder, this section didn’t need a second chance. It just needed skilled hands, careful work, and a team willing to get the details right.

Disability doesn’t mean inability.

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PO Box 68036
Tucson, AZ
85737

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