I’m not exactly sure why, but I’ve come to realize that I find the space shuttle vaguely depressing. Perhaps its because it reminds me of the years when I would watch each take-off breathlessly, back when each launch seemed so improbable, yet full of possibility. Now that I’m old(er) and jaded, the only feeling I get is relief when one doesn’t blow up.
People are a hard group to satisfy; even sending something into orbit can seem old hat after a while. And you wonder why so many couples get divorced. That said, it is still a bit of a marvel that the behemoth gets off the ground, malfunctions and all. Like when Discovery took off this morning with its tailpipe dragging. http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,3-1709928,00.html
Can you imagine? I mean, drivers go batshit when a piece of their bumper falls off. Wonder what it feels like to be trailing debris from the fuel tank as you hurtle into space. The closest I ever came is when I was winding through the mountains of Western Virginia on the way to a country wedding with my friends Kameron and Chinh.
Kam was behind the wheel as we approached one particularly sharp curve. As he accelerated into the turn he asked - rhetorically – “Do you think I can make it?” Uhh, no. Not that we had a chance to respond as he took out a sign and rolled the car over an embankment, down a hill and onto a golf course.
Apollo 13 material it isn’t, but the thought of dying on the way to your friends’ wedding tends to get the blood rushing. Anyway, when the car came to a stop, part of the front end was stripped bare, revealing the innards and a steady stream of fluid that was watering the green. We made the wedding, though. And the car was insured. Who insures the space shuttle?
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