Hi Chris,
Thanks for giving us access to your aircraft album. Great shots! But
the girl-laden f-16 shot tops all the rest! :-)
Jim Nichols
Tullahoma, TN USA
On 8/28/2016 9:49 AM, ChrisB wrote:
Well, I hope to be able to tell you what it’s like, Bob. I might have
mentioned not too long ago that next year will be the 40th anniversary of my First
Solo in a Hawk T1.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=4450879283&set=a.4138779283.747.511529283&type=3&theater
I was on the first Hawk course and I was the first ab initio student to fly it
solo, in July 1977. I had occasion to mention this to the RAF Valley Station
Commander last year and he offered me an anniversary flight.
There were 3 of us on the first Hawk course at RAF Valley, two of us remain.
The 3rd died displaying a newer Hawk at Bratislava in 1999; he had been the
first RAF pilot to fly the F117.
Sorry if I am repeating myself :~)
Chris
On 28 Aug 16, at 12:48, Bob Whitmire <fujixbob@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Oh, I dunno. If the pilot realized his passenger was an old poop and adjusted
his aerobatics accordingly... ;-)
I know there's a two-seat Spitfire, but I'm sure the cost of the ride would
leave me destitute.
Sigh.
--Ground-Bound Bob
Sent from my iPhone 6s Plus. This is a perfect mobile device. Any perceived
errors in spelling, grammar, or logic are figments of your imagination.
On Aug 28, 2016, at 2:14 AM, ChrisB <ftog@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
It’s a beautiful poem, and apparently he wrote it after an early trip in a
Spitfire.
I don’t think that you’d enjoy a fast jet nearly as much, Bob :-)
Chris
On 28 Aug 16, at 00:11, Bob Whitmire <fujixbob@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Just re-read High Flight by John Magee again today. What's the chance I can
hitch a ride in a fast jet sometime? Visiting dignitary stuff, y'know? ;-)
"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."
'Flung my eager craft through footless halls of air ...' Good lord, where does
that stuff come from?
--
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