How could I build a flying bicycle?

On a sunny afternoon in July of 2008, I decided to join other residents of Tang Hall to a building barbecue. This seemed like a great opportunity to get some free food and meet some interesting people. But it was far more than that. It was probably the most marking moment of my stay as a visiting graduate student at MIT.
Before I get into that moment let me take a couple steps back.
All of my higher education was done in Portugal, except for that stint in Cambridge, MA. I’m a biological engineer by academic training and, as some of you may know, engineering degrees can be quite demanding. I’m not mentioning this to make it seem like I’ve done anything extraordinary, it’s just a reality that I’ve experienced. Challenging courses, demanding professors and an underlying sense of ineptitude are all parts of the puzzle. Or so I thought.
Back to the barbecue. I grab a cheeseburger, a bottle of water, and take a seat on the grass. There are about 20 or so graduate students sitting around in the sun enjoying their free food. I take a seat near two guys that are beginning to have a conversation. Keep in mind that I’m just sitting near them, not necessarily joining them.
As I enjoy my burger, I can’t help but listen in on their conversation. One of the guys is Asian, possibly Chinese. The other is Eastern European, I’m guessing Russian or Ukrainian. They briefly introduce themselves, one a physicist and the other an aeronautical engineer, respectively. They chat for a while about their ongoing graduate projects and at this point I’ve phased out while I enjoy my food. Only until out of the blue, one of them says something that regains my attention. The engineer tells the physicist that he’s thinking about designing and building a folding bicycle that can fly. I almost spray out the water I was drinking. He follows up by asking what the physicist thinks about this. My immediate thought: “Haha! You’re mad!”.
And then it hit me. The Chinese physicist contemplates the idea and begins a structured conversation about this idea. He doesn’t consider it outlandish and does not impulsively react like he’s talking to a buffoon. He actually goes on to discuss this topic in more detail. So here, this is the marking moment. This is where I realize how close-minded I was regarding education and exploring ideas. This is where I realize how constrained my academic training had been until then. This is where I realize that extraordinary things could only come to exist by virtue of extraordinary ideas. This is where I genuinely realize that the box is meant to be stepped out of.
The two fellows discuss the implications and requirements of building a utility bicycle that could be used by everyone. Discussion about wings that could fold up when flying is not required or possible, about materials that could be used, limitations in air space, and much more. I — I just sit there in wonderment as they approach this idea from various angles and give it a good scientific and rationale run down.
While the conclusion of their mutual thought piece ended up ascertaining that it would be impractical to use such a bicycle, their approach to this result was definitely something that I had not been ready for. I felt like a fool to have quickly brushed off the idea without putting it through the rigours of scientific thought.
I’ve kept that brief conversation in my mind ever since.
As I previously mentioned, my academic training was in-depth but quite rigid in format. In most cases, having far-fetched ideas would render the same reaction I had that sunny afternoon, from my colleagues and/or my professors. Unfortunate, I know. This is certainly not the case at all universities in Portugal, but it was pretty much my experience.
Nonetheless, I believe that amazing things are discovered or invented where there is space and openness to explore seemingly outlandish ideas. MIT looks like one of those places.
If you’re curious, man-powered flying bicycles do exist. However, they are indeed impractical and wouldn’t be viable for your daily commute.













