Someone emailed me a few weeks ago and asked if that was me "striding across the ramp towards 2SP at Kaiser last Thursday". Sadly, no -- I'm more the slouching type. For future reference, the self-portrait, right, is the official guide to what I look like. Yes, my roots are showing.And fresh from my stunning win of a shiny new quarter in John's latest competition, L. took one look at me and asked disgustedly what sort of nerd would know what that plane was without looking it up? This sort of nerd, apparently. A nerd well-schooled by the likes of Dave Montoya, who had a brilliant memory for the infinite varieties of aircraft, and who used to regularly correct ATC on-air for their (often quite obvious) misidentifications ("12R, traffic, a Challenger crossing 27R. He'll be clear before you land". Dave, taking over the radio from me: "Tower, that's a Bombardier". Tower, sounding a bit taken-aback: "12R, it's a Challenger. Trust me". Dave, confidently: "Nah, it's a Bombardier". Tower, after a slight pause: "12R... but... you can see it, right?" -- a scene repeated many times with slight variations).
Anyway, that wasn't really the point -- the Jetstar should be instantly recognisable to any flying James Bond fan, being that other aviatrix Pussy Galore's aircraft of choice (but I'm sure you all knew this already). And here's another view, courtesy of Ephemera Now, one of my favourite sites. Dig that red Lincoln. And those hats....
(From the same site -- here's what I want to be when I grow up and get my ATP. Oh, and anyone for the latest in aviator glasses?).
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