“Bingo”
More than mere WonderDog
It was not often that the these clean cut Harrier Fighter Pilots, looking all the more as if freshly minted, got the chance, nay the privilege, to observe in the truest sense what vertical takeoff could mean.
A “good” takeoff in the harrier, even the MARK II version, was a heaving groaning affair with little style or grace. To Get MAX power out of the beast the turbine blades in the engine were spun up to Redline as the fuel flow was increased. At this point the Ship vibrated and the jet exhaust nozzles emitted the occasional darker patch of smoke. It was caused by an intermittent rich running condition, which was a shared design flaw in the second-generation jump jet. This occurred mainly after startup and at low altitude as the Jet-A kerosene fuel burned rich to form a stinkin’ kerosene sweet cloud that enveloped the jet and the ground crew trying their best to avoid this unpleasant tornado of hot swirling stinky air that formed the column rushing fast and dense enough down to propel the Harrier up and away as it rotated the thrust vectoring nozzles back and transitioned rapidly to full foreword flight.
It took skill to achieve a vertical take-off in a Harrier and so those that flew her saw this jet as sexy, graceful, and defining what was possible in the way of vertical takeoff.
At least up until now, today that is, this was the view they had cherished and held so warmly.
This day would shake up their convictions and let them know there were other forces at work out there in the universe which lay in wait to snare the unsuspecting. For if one were to get too cocky and fail to keep an open mind about what is what is not possible. Then a Dog such as the one they were about to meet named Bingo might really blow your mind.
Bingo was a dog and a pretty darn cool operator ‘if ya’ know what I mean’. On this particular day He and Giles, his human buddy, were at a park near the Pensacola base just hanging out with the three undergrad. Female babes that Giles was helping out with their math and as luck would have it their anatomy also.
Bingo jumped then, as only he was capable of. For no vitally important reason, perhaps to grab something from Giles outstretched arm like a stick or ball of original bound copies of Copernican theory they liked to toss about.
That leap, that jump, that whatever it was cuz’ words don’t neatly fit here, no not in this case. With no foreword velocity to use as kinetic energy re-directed upward as the Brits’ do with their ski ramps on the bows of their aircraft carriers that operate the harrier off the deck. With none of that, with no J.A.T.O. Belt [jet assisted takeoff], no dang rocket pods, no additional energy of any kind. No nuthin’ but what he had stored up in them little strong legs of his, and perhaps that belief in his head that he could just jump as high as he damn well pleased.
Those three jet jockey pilot types all slack jawed and showing clearly disbelief on those fresh smart looking faces stopped walking and observed the definition of Vertical Flight as Bingo leapt up into the wide blue yonder.
Bingo, well he just zoomed straight up with what appeared to be the barest of effort from his legs. Up, up, and up still he flew straight in a kinda’ slow n lazy trajectory. It was as if he had a face ta’ face with that dude be runnin the big ol nasty gravity machine that be pulling us down all the time and told em’ flat out that this little dog would not be having that load upon his back, his body, or any part of his domain. So that in this moment and at this instant in time gravity, or whatever the heck them physicists be naming it, just pure stayed out o’ Bingo’s way. Allowing him perhaps out of respect, admiration, and even little bit of fear to have his moment unhindered and unmolested there in the Florida Sun.
Bingo, leapt straight up, a foot high then two then grabbing Giles treat from above where his hand lay parked a good four feet over the ground.
Bingo seemed for that instant to float unhindered by anything including gravity as he defined what vertical flight was really all about.
By Mark Sotiriou/ Cameron Park, CA/ Nov.13.2002