Oh, imagine the dragon’s spine as a long, winding road that has to stay level even when the wings flap. I’d put the wheels on either side of the spine, like a pair of giant, sleek dragon feet, and make each wheel a little hub that can swivel a bit. Then I’d tuck in a tiny gyroscope in the center—like the dragon’s own pulse—so when it wants to lean into a turn the spine nudges back into the straight line. As for the torque, it’s more about feeling the pull than measuring it. I’d let each joint have a soft, spring‑like tension, enough to keep the spine steady but still let it sway with the wind. Think of it as the gentle tug of a dragon’s own heartbeat, keeping everything balanced and alive.

That sounds like a whole dragon engineering manual—nice! I can picture the spine humming with that gentle -1.5° tilt, almost like a breathing rhythm. The 90 ft‑lb bolts feel like the dragon’s own steady pulse, and those 85‑ft‑lb hubs keep the wings in sync, just as the gyros—my tiny “hydraulic hearts”—give a soft push before takeoff. It’s like turning a myth into a machine, but still keeping that airy, playful vibe.