Hvor fort....?

[Haldor]

Glem 9.4s på kvartmilen..... :

http://halair.com/video/humor/F14%20Flyby.mpg (1.3MB)

[BalleKnalle]

Pøh.... kjører mye raskere jeg ja...

[cmn]

Skal vedde på at jeg tar'n i aks'en...

[Ettertenning]

Di skyene vi såg der var det fordi han brøyt lydmuren?

P.S Blir ikke sånne skyer når eg bryter lydmuren med 320en min

[Haldor]

Nei han bryter ikke lydmuren men han er veldig, veldig nær. Det du ser er vanndamp (kondens/skyer) som kommer fra kraftig trykkforandring rundt flyet. Tenker hastigheten ligger på ca 1200km/t

Ser utvilsomt heftig ut men jeg har heller ikke klart det der med min 320 heller....

[Gunnar]

Sjukt kult med dampgreiene. Ikke sett før...

[Bart]

hadde ikke hatt noe imot å fått meg en tur i en slik en nei!

[Haldor]

For de som kunne tenke seg en tur les dette:

This is an article written by Rick Reilly for Sports

Illustrated. He details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in a

F-14 Tomcat ... very amusing.

Now this message for America's most famous athletes:

Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of

your country's most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already

have - John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you

get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity

.....Move to Guam. Change your name. Fake your own death. Whatever

you do, do not go. I know. The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was

pumped. I was toast!

I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip

(Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in

Virginia Beach. Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip

(Biff) King looks like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan,

ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-crippling handshake - the

kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure

time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast. Biff King was

born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA

missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting...." Remember?)

Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad.

Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds

waiting for him to say, "We have a liftoff."

Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful

$60 million weapon with as much thrust as weight. I was worried

about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff

if there was something I should eat the next morning. "Bananas," he said.

"For the potassium?" I asked. "No," Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up

as they do going down."

The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit

with my name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign -- like Crash

or Sticky or Leadfoot -- but, still, very cool.) I carried my

helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. A fighter

pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me

into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out

of the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately

knocked unconscious.

Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy

closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In

minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and

then canopy-rolled over another F-14. Those 20 minutes were the

rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being

on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails.

We did barrel rolls, snap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We

dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of

10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us. We

broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying

at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force

of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was

mashing against me.

And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the

night before. And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk

Duds from the sixth grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because

of the G's, I was egressing stuff that did not even want to be

egressed.

I went through not one airsick bag, but two. Biff said I

passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were

coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and

the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of

consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to

throw down.

I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass,

or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool.

Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and Freon

nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's black book, but

I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less money per year than a

rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He

said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said

he'd send it on a patch for my flight suit. What is it? I asked.

"Two Bags."

[Bart]

hehe litt av en tur det der ja! men alikevell! hadde sikkert vært sykt kult å få lovtil å bli med! selv om en kanskje angrer senere! hehe men den som intet våger, vinner intet!

[WebGeek]

hahaha! two bags... Hørtes jo egentlig en del morsomt ut, men kanskje man skal starte med en rolig tur i en cessna først, og jobbe seg oppover...

[Haldor]

For 10-20.000US$ får du flytur med MiG29 i Russland. MiG29 er den russiske motparten til F-14D.

Hadde jeg dratt i land Lotto'en Moscow here I come...

[oddis]

Ikke så aller verst det der