Two men driving an open-top Mini-Moke, speeding at 130 kilometers an hour down the the old Midland Highway.

A remote control airplane is zooming around 90 metres overhead and a police car is following close behind, but they are not the run. 

Instead, they are attempting to be the first to fly a radio-controlled plane from Launceston to Hobart. 

It was September 30, 1978 and the men were Max Wiggins and the late John Bell, both members of the Evandale Radio-Controlled Model Aircraft Fliers Club. 

The ambitious idea came to them over a few cold beers, following a rather enjoyable afternoon of flying their models planes together. 

As Max recalled, it was an idea he never actually thought would come to fruition. 

“John was the brains behind it all, I definitely needed a good push,” he said. 

“It had never been done before so it seemed like a good idea for us to have a crack.”

A month later they were off. 

Their plane of choice was a 60-inch Aeroflyte Hustler valued at around $700, which was a small fortune for the time and something Max described as the “perfect vehicle”. 

The Midland Highway in 1978 was winding, narrow and lined with trees – what could possibly go wrong? 

They had planned to set off at the break of dawn, with John behind the wheel of the Mini-Moke and Max controlling the Hustler which would fly ahead. 

As Max recalled, they wanted to leave as early as possible to avoid weekend traffic. 

The journey was close to 200 kilometres and at least four stops for refueling would be required along the way. 

All of the necessary precautions had been taken, including notifying the police. 

“They thought we sounded crazy,” Max explained.

“It seemed perfectly sane to us at the time.”

By 5.30am they were ready for takeoff from a paddock in Kings Meadows. 

Unfortunately a heavy fog delayed the start by nearly three hours.

“The rule is if you can’t see it, you can’t fly it,” Max said. 

“We just had to wait it out.”

As it turned out, the weather would be the least of their worries. 

Between engine failures, radio interference, pine trees “coming out of nowhere”, higher than expected telegraph poles and some very confused sheep, the next few hours proved to be very eventful for John, Max and the Hustler. 

Still, almost 40 years later Max fondly recalls every detail of the historic journey as if it was yesterday. 

“We didn’t have speed limits back then, so you could drive as fast as you like,” Max joked. 

“John was doing about 130 kilometers to keep up with the model and I only had it on about three-quarters throttle. 

“We were out near Epping and the motor suddenly stopped for some reason. 

“I had to land it among a mob of sheep.

“Poor things, I don’’t think they knew what to think.”

Adding to the panic, at one point a plastic sheet the men had place over their laps for warmth dislodged in the wind, flying over their faces. 

Their gallivanting caught the attention of the police, who pulled the Mini-Moke over for a “serious conversation”, forcing Max to perform some impromptu circles with the Hustler overhead.  

“He came up looking very concerned about what we were doing,” he said. 

“Luckily I had another policeman following us who knew we had been authorised so I left it to them to have a bit of a talk. 

“In the meantime I had to circle the model around the tops of the pine trees and the fog was just crazy, I almost lost it.”

Miraculously despite all of the hurdles, the Hustler made it to Hobart with a flight time of just over two hours. 

Landing safely in an open paddock, the pilots shook hands and toasted with some well earned bubbly.

For the ride back to Launceston, the Hustler hitched a lift in the back of the Mini-Moke. 

The story of John and Max’s ‘Historic Hop’ appeared in The Examiner on October 2, 1978.

Written by John himself, the report described the plans, patience and progress of the inaugural flight, including a close call with a lift bridge over the Derwent River. 

“Due to the steel superstructure it was impossible for Max to view the model during our crossing,” it read. 

“An additional hazard was a high-voltage transformer at the other end of the bridge. 

“We could only hope the Hustler would maintain a straight course. 

“It did!

“We arrived with the model unscathed and Max flew the Hustler over the suburbs of Hobart.” 

After Max, the Hustler found a new home with airline captain Kevin Swiggs. 

Both members of the Launceston Model Aero Club, at the time Kevin was just starting out with the hobby despite clocking up decades of experience flying real planes. 

“Flying models is different to flying airliners, that’s for sure,” he said. 

“You don’t sit in the cockpit for one thing.”

Reflecting on the 1978 story, Kevin described the Hustler’s achievement as nothing short of remarkable. 

“Technically it was very well done the way they pulled it off,” he said. 

“Because back in those days the radio equipment was not as reliable as it is now. 

If two people had the same frequency on their transmitter, the models would crash. 

“There is certainly a lot that could have gone wrong.” 

For 20 year the Hustler sat in retirement under Kevin’s house before being rediscovered along with the original report from 1978. 

Apart from a bit of woodworm and some newly acquired rattles, he said it hadn’t really aged a day. 

Now fully restored, the men would like to see the model plane’s achievements recognised and put on display at the Queen Victoria Museum in Invermay. 

“Something like this is history,” Kevin said.

“The fact that it has only been done the once, it should go on display. 

“This is a big part of Australian and Tasmanian aviation history.

“No one has done it since and honestly no one is likely to now. 

“It is one of those, once in a lifetime things that deserves to be recognised.”