At long last, I was finally able to collect on my several-years-postponed biplane ride. Short version:
I WANT ONE.
The backstory:
audiovile and
sweh and I had gone to the Old Rhinebeck Aerodrome a couple years ago, and had a wonderful day looking around and stuff, but the winds were too high for the biplane rides (and even the air show was somewhat affected). So Steve promised me that we would go back and I would have my ride; and this we did. (Edit: the plane in question is a 1937 New Standard D-25.)
I have been up in small planes before once or twice, but this is so very, very different. You have a much more visceral feeling of actually flying, as opposed to just sort of having the option of moving in a third dimension. It's loud, and it vibrates horribly, and it is fucking fantastic. I never want to come down, ever.
And this in spite of the fact that our stinking bloody excuse for a nanny state has decreed that they aren't allowed to do aerobatics with passengers any more. You used to be able to request how wild a ride you wanted, and they'd accommodate. I wanted wingovers, and loops, and Immelmann turns-- DENIED! Snarl.
It was still glorious.
I WANT ONE.
The backstory:
I have been up in small planes before once or twice, but this is so very, very different. You have a much more visceral feeling of actually flying, as opposed to just sort of having the option of moving in a third dimension. It's loud, and it vibrates horribly, and it is fucking fantastic. I never want to come down, ever.
And this in spite of the fact that our stinking bloody excuse for a nanny state has decreed that they aren't allowed to do aerobatics with passengers any more. You used to be able to request how wild a ride you wanted, and they'd accommodate. I wanted wingovers, and loops, and Immelmann turns-- DENIED! Snarl.
It was still glorious.