Sled Driver

and that our mission was important enough to still launch despite the extreme
weather. The briefer listed the typhoon warnings but added our takeoff time would
permit a safe launch. I remember thinking we should put this man through pilot
training so he could get a new perspective on the word safe concerning flying in
weather.
As Walt and I climbed into the jet, we noticed across the field flying had been
cancelled for the day, and crew chiefs were tying down the F-15s. As I settled into
the plane among an array of connections, I felt comfortable and secure in the
cockpit and space suit, despite the threatening outside elements. A PSD specialist
wiped raindrops from the faceplate of my space helmet. After engine start, I
engaged nose wheel steering by pushing a small button on the stick and taxied into
the rain. Watching the gray walls of clouds at the end of the runway planted a seed
of anxiety in my cozy environment. As I turned the jet into the run-up area, I felt a
sinking feeling of being slightly out of control. Even with brakes applied, the jet was
sliding forward on the slippery film of rain soaked coral dust on the taxiway. Sitting
in front of 50 tons of titanium and fuel that was sliding toward the mobile car was
not a good way to start the day.
Trailing a spray of mist from a wet runway, the Sled lifted off and smoothly pulled
skyward. As I reached for the landing gear handle, the jet was engulfed in a tomb of
swirling rain. Dark gray clouds seemed to fill the cockpit. The plane accelerated
undaunted by the elements, and I concentrated on the instruments before me.
Without outside visual references, my perception of the climb began to lag what
the jet was actually doing. The acceleration in full burner, the high angle of climb,
and the gentle turn onto the departure routing, took place while I was enveloped in
the mass of gray clouds. My 1Seat-of-the-pants' feel of the airplane's bank angle and
pitch attitude disagreed with what the instruments were saying. My eyes read the
instruments that said one thing, but my body told me something different. This
confusion between visual information and the body's sensation is called spatial
disorientation. It can undermine even the most experienced pilot and is difficult to
shake once induced. The best cure is to find some clear sky, see the horizon, and get
orientated.
As we climbed higher, the sky grew darker and heavy turbulence buffeted the jet.
In these conditions, the Sled's fuselage flexed slightly, causing the front end of the
plane to bend more than the rear section. From the cockpit, I felt a little like I was
being bounced on the end of a titanium diving board. Controlling the aircraft was
not made any easier and Walt informed me we were slightly of course.
I was late in coming out of afterburner. Sweat pooled inside my gloves and my grasp
tightened on the stick and throttles. I felt warm inside the space suit, and noticed fog
forming my faceplate. Because I felt we were flying near up-side-down, the simple