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December 17, 2003
100 Years Ago Today

I know I'm not supposed to be impressed by this anymore; in fact, my expected reaction is complete annoyance and frustration. But since I'm racing 38,000 feet over the snowy patchwork of western Kansas at 500 miles per hour, 100 years minus a day since the first time anyone did anything like this, allow me to be awestruck for a moment. That first flight at Kitty Hawk lasted for a few seconds, covered less distance than the length of this plane, and probably had a top speed of 15 miles per hour. It was accomplished by a couple of bike mechanics who devised a control system which is precisely the same as the one being used to control this jet. The whole idea is rather dumbfounding.

This feeling is certainly exaggerated by the events of the last 11 months. Traveling this country, or I suppose any other, by car, particularly by Vanagon car, gives new definition to the word slow, and therefore new appreciation for the word fast. This is really, really fast. We left Baltimore at 6 a.m. and have almost beaten the sunrise to Denver. That's fast.

I could also mention that while at the aforementioned altitude and speed I'm typing a blog entry (though not, alas, able to post it) on a fancy little laptop while watching live television beamed from a satellite several miles overhead. Liz is sleeping.

In the time it's taken me to write this, we've crossed into Colorado and dropped 10000 feet of altitude as we prepare to land. The ground below has become rippled and scarred as it starts to rise into the Rockies. I think I see I-70, the cross-country Interstate that starts in Baltimore. If we had taken that route, it would have taken us at least 2 and half days to get this far.

So well done, Wilbur. You go, Orville. Your amazing accomplishments all those years ago have really come in handy.

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