Buckley's First Jet Ride

I picked up the phone and a cat on the other end said, "This is Captain Shalleck, of the United States Air Force. I have been assigned to this project and I'll pick you up at 8:30 in the morning and we'll go to Palmdale for the jet ride . . . you ARE Lord Buckley, aren't you?"

I said, "solid," and he said, "roger" and cut.

I said to myself, man here's where I flip out into the wild blue yonder . . . . I found out later why they call it Wild.

The Captain hit my pad at 8:30 and by 10 we were there. We fell into the scene that was security city. Man, there was fuzz walking . . . fuzz riding . . . fuzz to the left . . . fuzz to the right . . . fuzz digging the fuzz and all of them putting the burn on me like I had personally cut out with the Statue of Liberty.

We cut upstairs where I was introduced to a tall cat with a face like a tanned hatchet. This was Captain Brown, the cool . He dug me with a "take that said, "This man don't look like he's breathing too good at sea level."

They put a pre-flight jazz book on me, that was a gasser. The opening lines were a hanger:

"It is a known fact that it is very difficult for the observer (that's me!) in an AT-33 aircraft to determine the state of an emergency should one arise, therefore all observers must rely on the actions and words of the pilot when unusual occurrences take place."

I began to suffer from a seizure of the flips. . . .

"Extent of emergency . . . unusual occurrences"

They MUST have pulled a switch on me . . . this book is for the "test cats, NOT ME.

While panicking on the cool words of advice in this goodie, a cat comes up with a spacehat and say, "Try this on for size." I tried it on and he took it off, squeezed it, and this time it felt like it was glued to my wig. Next he gave m a set of Churchill striders to put on my stompers and the chute pack. The cat hips me that when I have to yank the chute release, not to come on with no delicate lick . . . I told the cat that if the time comes for m to pull this item, I'll come on like a madman at a taffy pull.

By now I've got 457 straps on me holding all this jazz in place. Next comes the oxygen sniffer. Jack, I mean to tell ya, the scene is getting pretty far out, but I'm holding in there . . . real tight, but I sure feel like a cat wrapped and tied to be flipped clean out of this crazy world.

I read a few more lines in the space head book, while waiting for the pilot Captain Brow.

"One very important observation for all to a make is to determine if the aircraft is still under control. This can best be determined by the position of the aircraft and its lateral or longitudinal movement, if any."

If any what? . . . I said to myself. Man, this is the first time in the history of the Air Force that an aircraft is way out of control BEFORE we even get into the air! Man, I now got the jammies and the double flippies, but I still keep diggin' the 14 commandments,

"The canopy is normally blown clear when the right arms rest of the ejection seat is raised.

Man, a cat can automatically blow his top in this gig, by just lifting the handle . . . wow!"

It states the pilot will hip you in case of any bad jazz, and when to jump, so therefore don't make any hasty decisions regarding bailing out before you are reasonably sure the aircraft is out of control and you are unable to contact the pilot. Dad, I won't even count ten without getting an okay from the space head cat, and furthermore, I ain't about to grab the wheel on this scene . . . flip and jump the ship? . . . NEVER.

Captain Brown drops by and we make it out to the space ship. Jack, let me double hip ya'. This real way out set of wings, looks like a multimillionaire's son's special kick-ship. Comes on like a flying sword. Looks like it came out of some king-size Tiffany's window.

I make it up the short ladder into the observer's seat behind the pilot's seat. Captain Brown, the cool, is now hipping me to the gig again. He comes on to say that the lever on the left blows the canopy and the one on the right is the main day double 7 ply tail buster to end all gassers. He said that in case I had to pull it, to be sure and pull in my stompers . . . hold arms in tight . . hold back my wig, cause this is the jazz that blows the whole seat clear out of the space ship . . . circus cannon style . . . and if this scene takes place, to be sure and not to forget to unbuckle the seat after I got UP AND OUT, before I pulled the chute release.

He also hips me to another gadget which I am not to touch at ANY TIME. I tell him I wouldn't even sneak a peck at the jazz and the fact, I had already forgotten that it was there.

On goes the oxygen sniffer . . . the windshield is pulled down over my space hat . . . down goes the canopy . . . I feel like the top part of a ketchup bottle, under glass. Man, I am in like some strap spider flung a web on me.

I'm diggin' a dial on the dash with a set of lips on it. When I breath, it does too, REAL CRAZY. I've got a phone and a receiving set in my space hat, and Captain Brown sounds me, am I ready . . . I say go daddy and just then a 60 foot giant hauled off and gave the ship a swinging kick in the tail pipe and mother whammo, we're off for the moon city.

The Air Force base was 65 miles north of Los Angeles and before I could say "Help" we're over San Diego upside down and at 18,000 feet and shooting along at 500 miles per.

The city looks pretty far out in this position and I say to myself. Jack, you are now a Mars Head, Space Head and a Moon Man "A" Number One.

We turn right side up and Captain Cool's voice comes thru to say, "Don't fight the ship." . . . What this cat don't know is, I can't spare anyone to fight the ship, all my boys are fighting to keep in the 2 eggs, orange juice, but by the grace of the great swinger, my cats are there fighting.

Now Captain Cool really takes off on a skysledge flip . . . we're goin' outside outs and inside ins and the maniac's twist and then we're jumpin' in the straight again . . . Thru all this Captain Cool is coming on like a polished Captain Cool is coming on like a polished penguins personal salute to the North Star. . . Jack, he was really chilly, he was so coo.

He sounds me thru the wigphone clear and cool, asking me how I would like to pick up 4 1/2 G's. I say to myself, dig this far-out penguin head. For not fighting the ship and playing it cool, the Air Force is going to put 4 1/2 big ones on me . . . CASH! Wow!. I said, "Crazy man, Crazy, when can I pick up on it?" He answers "right now." . . . and Jack, we cut down stairs like a re-tailed hornet bird. It's a lick like you don't know where you're going, but you know you are on your way, when suddenly Captain Cool started upstairs again . . . I DIDN'T GO WITH THE CAT AT ALL, I kept goin' down. I felt like the low man on a fat man's totem pole. I was so down that my space helmet weighed 7 gillium pounds. If Marilyn Monroe was to walk by in her calendar suit, I'd have to take a rain check, cause man, I couldn't lift my head. Don't fight the ship . . . man. I'm fighting to get all these lead-tailed cats off my back . . . then we're upstairs again . . . before I could get my stomach out of my shoes we were coolin'' in on the runway.

We stopped, the canopy flips up as two Air Force cats jump back with a startled look, like the Captain had picked up upon a technicolored Martian.

I looked like a cat on a quince diet, but Jack. I WAS BACK, but to lay it on you straight, I'd like to make the whole riff over again . . . solid!

transcribed from a radio air check by Michael Monteleone