France, still not the country of pioneers? (season 3 episode 5)

As you could have seen in recent days (and even years), I have been listening carefully several times, and speaking about Franky Zapata's exploits.

Perhaps you are wondering why - Because he's from Marseille? Not really... it's much more personal! 

I have already explained this in 2017 (remember!) and before that, in 2012 (remember too!) against the backdrop of the same observation: France does not support its pioneers enough (when it does not put obstacles in their way) and they end up leaving sooner or later.

This year, the situation seems slightly different. Slightly, because the wonderful flying lunatic and his strange machine finally seems to be supported by the French military, therefore the government, therefore France, with all the necessary solemnity and capital letters.

This remains a constant, what I particularly admire about Franky is his ability as an inventor! Here is someone who has dreams, desires, a vision, and that no one has been able to convince that all this is impossible. He designs and manufactures almost alone machines that should be created by Airbus Helicopter (based 10 km away) or American, or Chinese or Russian counterparts.

But no, they can't. Quite simply because in these large (and fantastic) companies, there is no room for disruptive innovation. Too many risks, too many rules, too much pressure...

What I also appreciate is the material and physical side of his invention. I have been in software industry for nearly 40 years now and I never tire of admiring the innovations, the immense complexity of all the OSs, or the applications that are at our disposal, including those of my teams at Oxatis, but which will always lack the little extra soul that the object brings.

And there are a few more, which of course go back even further in time.

Before working on an autonomous flyboard powered by five turboprop engines, Franky had invented the same board, but connected to a water scooter.

He did some of his tests at La Mède, a small corner of paradise trapped between the Etang de Berre and the C?te Bleue. In the background, to the east, is Mount Sainte Victoire; to the left, the Etang de Bolmon, a nature reserve of pink flamingos; to the right, a wild space populated by impressive bulls. We cannot imagine that such a place could still exist, stuck between Marignane airport and the La Mède refinery.

That's where I regularly met Franky a few years ago, because that's where I'm going to do my daily 15 minutes skiing until mid-December. One of the many advantages of the region, but that's not the point.

Without us really knowing each other, he often came to stand next to and above the ski boat to talk for a few minutes perched a few meters away. You can't forget that!

But the Mède is not only about my ski club, a few pink flamingos, and the Sainte Victoire! La Mède is also the place where, more than 100 years ago, on 28 March 1910, Henri Fabre, a 28-year-old engineer from Marseille, had the world's first seaplane take off!

Such a coincidence with Franky! You can't make that up....

What cannot be invented either is the story that will follow.

I have already told this very personal story, but I never get tired of it, because it says a lot about life, the region, about Henri Fabre, and me. And then each time I tell it, I tell you more.

In 1975, I was just 14 years old, I was passionate about radio-controlled scale models.

I often seem like an old nerd when I tell my children that at this time we didn't have a mobile phone, a game console or the Internet. So you had to spend your time on other games. In my spare time, I spent them creating boats and designing radio controls - and no, at that time, there was nothing ready that came from China for a few hundred francs, and even if it had been available, I would have preferred to make it myself.

During the competitions, I had a hard time fighting against the adults who came with sumptuous boats that were much better finished and much more beautiful than mine. But there was a part of the competitions that I won almost every time: driving!

At this time, on a radio remote control there were two tracks. In general, one was in charge of the front/rear engines, and the other of the rudder. This made it very difficult for boats to manoeuvre in reverse. Mine was piloted in a tank style with one front/rear track for the left engine and the other for the right engine, but no rudder. With this little breakthrough innovation, I might as well tell you that I was unbeatable at the helm!

Every Saturday, I would put one of my models on my moped - I still wonder how they held because they were more than a metre long, and I would run to Borely Park to join dozens of other enthusiasts.

One day, an old man came up to me. I still don't know his exact age today, but he must have been over 90 years old, very elegantly dressed in a three-piece suit and a canoeist. He started to take an interest in my boat, in the way the radio control system allowed him to run it. We met again on many Saturdays. Sometimes I gave him the orders and, despite his imperfect vision, he managed to control it and had fun like the young boy he was becoming again.

We were just discussing what improvements I could make to the boat, its controls, etc. It was a very beautiful relationship between two people that was almost three generations apart. And like many children who play with each other, I had never asked him his last name.

One Saturday, he brought me a large pastel map showing a seaplane taking off from La Mède. 

I'm not sure I realized at the time how lucky I was to have been able to discuss for hours and especially share so much with the man who had made the first seaplane in the world take off, but what I'm sure is that the level of consideration he showed to my creations certainly gave me the desire and confidence that are the foundation of my life and my tenacity as an entrepreneur.

You probably understand better why Franky's exploits matter to me, and remind me of this unique and founding friendship. And why I am intrinsically convinced that we must support, without stifling them, our French pioneers, whatever their fields!