I'll check it out later, but I still have a fondness for control line. When I was about 13 and 14 me and three friends would fly control line in the middle of the street all day every saturday and sunday, and the neighbors never complained. We had so many hours on our .049s it's amazing that they lasted as long as they did.
My biggest memory of using those planes was the absolutely harrowing experience where one guy broke his plane so that the tail was torn off. He tied a baloon behind the wings, started the plane, and let it fly. Meanwhile there was a very old man out for a walk across the street on the sidwalk. The plane was headed right for him. We were horrified because the man didn't see or hear the plane coming. He was truly old and moving very slowly. We thought it was going to hit him dead center, and there was nothing we could do about it. Fortunately, the plane veered a little to the right or left and missed the man. We were all extremely relieved.
Ah those were the days, back when it was perfectly normal for a school kid to go to the store and buy a gallon of nitromethane.