by Ric Hunter

Just after takeoff at about 175 knots, the F-15C I call "Angel," responds a little sluggishly, like she's just waking up. The throttles in my left hand go to the wall, afterburners touch-off 54,000 pounds of her thrust. Speed builds--rapidly. She starts to feel more responsive. Clouds no longer float by. She accelerates through mach one, those puffies whip past the canopy now. The jet bounces a bit to let me know she wants more. She starts to feel like a powerful thoroughbred; sensitive to my fingers, like when I'm finally going to touch her there.

Passing mach-one-point five, air rushes by faster than 10 hurricanes. She starts to moan from the pressure. She wants to go faster. Clouds are now a blur. Her control stick is between my legs. I rotate my right hand around the pistol grip, easing my wrist to the left some. Just my fingertips on the front of the stick; every touch is important. She knows it. An imaginary eggshell between my fingertips and the control stick keeps my touch light as the machmeter reaches two. She's sensitive, so sensitive. A normal input now could cause catastrophic "G" force transients, rip Angel's wings asunder, strip the skin from her fuselage, put human and machine at the vanishing point. She needs a light touch; coax her into a turn, skirt the supercell cumulus in front. Pull her nose up ever so gently--too hard--gently! She wants to respond. Let her. Ease off the back pressure, her nose is up, still mach two.

Turn her lose, let her climb for the heavens, go darlin'--like a homesick angel! Fingertips just brush her control stick now; she's thrusting up, up, up. I leave the world behind, she's taking me away. The sky is no longer blue...it's black. I see the slightest curvature of the earth, like the hip of a beautiful woman lying on her side. Stars glisten in the middle of the day. She's still at twice the speed of sound, a high-strung performer in the hands of her pilot who loves her dearly...

It's very quiet now at 65,000 feet - the troposphere. I hang at the edge of space, small to the heavens, she brought me here. I'm just along for the ride and I know it.

She will start down in a minute, spent, given me her all, then some. I am thankful. I pray this never ends. . . .