If you are 7 years old and having fun with a rubber-band powered balsa wood plane, you aren’t having fun until it ends the same way.
My older brother’s meticulously crafted WWII aircraft models usually ended their life with paper clips glued to the top, stuffed with alcohol-soaked cotton balls, in a fiery slide of death down a string from a second story window.
Those were the days!
Damn! I missed that one.