Plane / Planes / Aircraft / Aeroplane / Airplane appreciation

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=qf_hdFSnOEI&bmb=1

Here-
GoPro + F18 = AWESOME - YouTube

^That's one way to dry your windscreen...

Beeyoodeefull.

Not the prettiest. Poor range. But, as fast as a whippet, being chased by a rabid saluki.

The English Electric Lightning.

English Electric Lightning Take Off - YouTube

E.E. LIGHTNING PROMO 1960s - YouTube

Britain really used to be able to build an aircraft.

Britain really used to be able to build an massive engine with wings attached.

ftfy

"There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane—intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.

We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot who asked Center for a read-out of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground." Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed in Beech. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed." Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren.

Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check." Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a read-out? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground." And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done—in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.

Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it—the click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request.

"Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground." I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money."

For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, "Roger that Aspen. Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one." It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out"

#csb

I went to a talk by this pilot when I was in the US a couple of years back. He told this story then, but the best one is when they buzzed the boy scouts below the tower in a full banking turn by accident. Is that story in the same source as the one above?

No. Do recite pls.

http://smileys.on-my-web.com/repository/Transports/f-16-021.gif

I went to a talk by this pilot when I was in the US a couple of years back. He told this story then, but the best one is when they buzzed the boy scouts below the tower in a full banking turn by accident. Is that story in the same source as the one above?

I remember reading about that. It was in Scotland at night time, and the tower wanted a flyby. Only problem, the pilot couldn't see anything and they got within 20 feet of it full afterburners and only found out about the near miss afterwards.

^ the fuck is that? Some sort of bomber I'm assuming but with a heat shield?

Shuttle maybe?

Shuttle maybe?

CockpitoftheMongolianManofWarBomber.jpg

Clue is in the image name.

Not really, it's this

The Flight Deck of Space Shuttle Endeavour
Image Credit & Copyright: Ben Cooper (Launch Photography), Spaceflight Now

Explanation: What would it be like to fly a space shuttle? Although the last of NASA's space shuttles has now been retired, it is still fun to contemplate sitting at the controls of one of the humanity's most sophisticated machines. Pictured above is the flight deck of Space Shuttle Endeavour, the youngest shuttle and the second to last ever launched. The numerous panels and displays allowed the computer-controlled orbiter to enter the top of Earth's atmosphere at greater than the speed of sound and -- just thirty minutes later -- land on a runway like an airplane. The retired space shuttles are now being sent to museums, with Endeavour being sent to California Space Center in Los Angeles, California, Atlantis to the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex on Merritt Island, Florida, and Discovery to the Udvar-Hazy Annex of the National Air and Space Museum in Chantilly, Virginia. Therefore sitting in a shuttle pilot's chair and personally contemplating the thrill of human space flight may actually be in your future.

The shuttle has guards around every single button. That was my first thought too.

Edit: seems I'm mistaken, the buttons with guards start behind the two front seats, Just out of view in that pic. They protect the controls in zero gravity and double as tiny handles so you don't go drifting off when you switch something on or off.

As far as I can see, this will be the UK's main combat air asset during the Second Falklands War, due to kick off in 2014/15¹, unless Tornado pilots fancy some very long shifts. At least this time around the RAF will be able to forward-base in Spain, cutting about 4 hours off the round trip.

¹. After the Argentine economy has totally collapsed again, following this

America, FUCK YEAH!

I really think that stealth bombers are the coolest looking things ever.

wow, that's awesome. I'm no big fan of america, but I certainly have a soft spot for these kinda things

Love that photo.

What is photo plane?

The orignal caption is:

A pair of specially painted F-117 Nighthawks fly off from their last refueling by the Ohio National Guard's 121st Air Refueling Wing. The F-117s were retired March 11 in a farewell ceremony at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio.

so judging from the shape of the wing i'd say it was a KC-X tanker

Ta.

Would happily fly tankers, I like big planes.

And you cannot lie?

i like turtles