The General Airplane Thread

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While I failed to grab one of the limited tickets on offer for the largest and nearest air show this year, I'm lucky enough to live within spitting distance another show that took place during the same weekend. A show that also shared some of the fly-bys that were booked for the other show. Including one of the last ever flights of the only airworthy Vulcan. So there was an understandably large turnout for a relatively small event.

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They did have a few other, less-humbling displays on the side:

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Lookie here for the rest
 
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While I failed to grab one of the limited tickets on offer for the largest and nearest air show this year, I'm lucky enough to live within spitting distance another show that took place during the same weekend. A show that also shared some of the fly-bys that were booked for the other show. Including one of the last ever flights of the only airworthy Vulcan. So there was an understandably large turnout for a relatively small event.
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Lookie here for the rest

The Vulcan is really cool, love the looks, the sound :drool: Glad to have seen it years ago on a show..
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Nice photos 👍 Followed on flickr :)

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I'm sure I've posted this one before but I just saw it again and it's so epic!
 
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The Sandbar Mitchell restoration project. A B-25 that went down in Alaska, so named for the sandbar it rested on until it's discovery
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...and it so happens, spare parts for Sandbar Mitchell are/were in Nome, Ak
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The mortal remains of a previously unknown North American B-25J Mitchell survivor have come to light in Nome, Alaska. The aircraft, 44-28898, was one of many such Mitchells provided to the Soviet Union as part of the lend-lease program in WWII
 


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It's for raising awareness for animals that are in risk of extinction.

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FLIGHT attendants have been left red-faced after they accidentally released an emergency slide on a packed plane, leaving passengers stranded.

It is understood Arke Fly flight 576 from Tenerife in Spain to Amsterdam was experiencing some technical problems shortly before take off this morning.

Passengers reported airline staff were attempting to “let in some fresh air” through the front door after the cabin became hot.
http://www.news.com.au/tr...ry-fnizu68q-1227409329109

China Southern A380 landing for the first time at Schiphol.
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Now I have two A380s to photograph :P

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The Blues never disappoint, it's amazing to watch them fly. Caught their show Sunday from outside the airport. Only missed out on the crossing passes but everything else was visible (if a bit too far for the lens), and I managed some decent shots. This one looks great full size, one of my favorites from the past 5 years at airshows. Different angle from what I'd get in the crowd, being away from the airport a bit lets you see how smoothly they transition from one formation to another.
 
JURIS GRINBERGS' IRBITIS I-12 PROJECT

Juris Grinbergs, 65, living in Riga is building a flying replica of the VEF Irbitis I-12. The project has been underway since 2003.

The frame construction (fuselage, wings and tail) is well underway, and he has managed to obtain a very rare 90-hp Cirrus engine, similar to the one used in the original aircraft 70 years ago.

Juris reports that, in 1990 when Irbitis was still alive, some enthusiasts had contacted him about building an I-12, but with modern materials. Irbitis replied that this could be done, but it would no longer be his aircraft - the I-12 was intended to be made of wood. Juris has taken this to heart and is building his copy with the same materials used in the 1930s, working with Irbitis' signed blueprints from that time.

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F-16 CAS
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"Although the GAU-13 cannon was not specifically designed for the F-16, and A-7, F-15E and even F-5s could carry the GPU-5 pod, in it the USAF saw a particular opportunity to give the F-16 the A-10's claim to fame and its main supporters biggest argument as to why it should continue to stay in the inventory, a 30mm gun that can shred even a main battle tanks' heavy armor."

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Really LOVE the green livery :drool: Too bad the gun under the F-16 wasn't what they hoped for.

 
SR-71! It means it is time to post one of the best stories ever about the Blackbird.

Sled Driver: Flying the World Fastest Jet by Brian Shul
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 asked Center for a readout 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. "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 readout? 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 there.
 
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