Recently, Angela, Andrew and I took a “mini-vacation” to Tulsa — just a quick trip to get away before Noah is born.  In Tulsa, we visited the Tulsa Air and Space Museum.  Those that know me know my fascination with military aircraft.  At one point, late in my adolescent years, I pondered (if ever so briefly) the possibly of joining the military for the purpose of flying one of those great war machines, but my imperfect vision killed that dream before it had a chance to talk hold.

At any rate, yesterday on a fairly popular geek new site, I saw this article, which reminded me of our visit to that museum in Tulsa.  Sitting in the middle of the museum floor was a real F-14 Tomcat.  Much to Angela’s amusement, I walked all around that aircraft (easily one of my favorites of the modern US military), peeking in the air intakes, investigating the landing gears, staring into the back of the engines.  I got to run my hand down the plane, and even walk under it for a real close up inspection.  The real highlight came when Andrew and I climbed the ladder to look into the cockpit.  The museum volunteer told me something I though I’d never hear:  I could sit in the cockpit if I wanted to.  gasp!  First, I let Andrew sit in the pilot’s seat.  He played with the stick and pushed buttons, generally having the great time that any three year old boy would have when presented with lots of new buttons.  I then lifted him from the pilot’s seat, and sat him in the back in the RIO’s seat, at which point I slid into the pilot’s seat.  Extremely cool.  All the gauges and buttons, knobs, switches and lights.  For me, easily the best part of the trip in terms of sites visited.

What really struck me as odd, though (although it shouldn’t if I had stopped to think), was how gritty the interior was.  With my only real exposure to the Tomcat “in action” being movies like Top Gun, I had always pictured this jet, and every other, I guess, as being pristine, shiny metal cylinders of military dominance.  While they were certainly militarily dominant, they’re anything but pristine.  The console looked a bit grimy (though it had been cleaned for the museum), and the fabric that covered the sides of the cockpit was old and torn, dangling in place as if tired from a long and hard commission, which I’m sure it had. 

The movies also made it look quite spacious in the cockpit, with room to turn around and talk to the RIO.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  To sit in the pilot’s seat (and I’m sure the RIO seat was the same — I didn’t get a chance to sit in that one), you really have to wedge yourself in.  And, sure, you can turn and talk to your RIO just like Maverick did to Goose, but my guess is that you’re really going to have to crank to get turned around.

So it was a very surreal and eye-opening experience for me.  We even have pictures taken from the floor of me in the front and Andrew in the back.  Very cool.  While the experience did shatter some odd misconceptions I had about the physical state of the aircraft, the act of getting to touch it made my fascination with the plane grow that much deeper.  And it is with a bit of nostalgic regret that I read that the Navy has offficially decommissioned such a great jet, but it has had a long and successful career, and those replacing it, like the F-18, F-22 and the Joint Strike Fighter, are at least as cool, and probably much more powerful, so my boyish fascination with flying war machines can live on in child-like wonder! 🙂