What's My Next Favorite Plane Going To Be? Part 1

Before beginning, I'm going to say: this might seem like one of the most paltry, self-absorbed entries I've ever made in this blog. That being said, read on:
I think my first, favorite plane ever was the F-4E. I remember being a little kid down in Virginia, those amazing arrow roaring over the skies white bellied and camo green/brown over the top, black pointy nose and all. I didn't know how they worked, who they were fighting (though my brothers assured me, to my childish dismay, they were fighting very, very far away), or what missiles were. But they were loud, fast, and looked futuristic and cool, and they were above me, faster than me, and braver than me. And it was all just Wow-Factor 10.7 for me whenever they flew over.
This is about the time that my Mom got me a yellow toy F-5 Tiger and I got upset because it wasn't an F-4 Phantom but my brother explained that it flew with the F-4 Phantom and was still a good guy and was still a great little fighter so I should still like it, all blogged out somewhere below in this same blog.
I remember seeing the F-105s, too. More streamlined, still gorgeous and amazing, but not as cool looking as the F-4s. But it was a jet fighter and was loud, fast and still awesome. WowFactor 9.8+
Got into modeling. I was not so focused at first- I loved all World War II stuff- infantry, tanks and fighters and ships. Whenever we visited Grandma's house I hoped my Uncle was there hangin' with some of his war buddies. They'd regail this young whip with amazing tales.
Oops, that's another story.
Fast forward a little bit. The second adult-level novel I ever read was Thud Ridge. My brother read it, too, and he got a 1:72 model of an F-105D. I went for a Phantom model- you could select from the C or E models (also 1:72). I decided to go both, and glued the nose on lightly so I could easily pop it off and glue the other one on if I wanted to go from Vulcan to no-Vulcan Phantom. It didn't work, of course. And I felt bad that the squadron/plane decals only matched one of the fighters. But It was still fun. I don't remember what happened to my Phantom model, but I do remember getting caught by my brother playing with his F-105D. Shooting down imaginary MiGs. After yelling at me for playing with his display model (a concept I didn't really get at the time. It's a toy, for Pete's sake!), he explained that if I was interested in Air-to-air combat, I was jumping in the wrong plastic cockpit. And he told me about the F-15.
Whoa.
Mach 2.5. Eight missiles. Six-barrel gatling gun built into the jet from the beginning. 7-freakin'-G capable- or higher. Tons of kills and never, EVER shot down by an enemy fighter. Beautiful scalloped waves of white and gray graced its strong, handsome lines. It was the tall, handsome quarterback who'd never had a pass intercepted, never been sacked, and only passed winning touchdown passes. I did not want to LIKE the F-15, I did not want to FLY the F-15 (I was already wearing glasses in 5th grade), I wanted to BE an F-15 Eagle.
That night, and the next, I tried to hide behind Dad so I could stay up and watch the National Anthem play at midnight when the channels shut off (if Mom caught me, I'd get sent to bed. Dad let me, and sometimes encouraged me to try and get away with stuff like this on occasion. Thank you, Dad). I'd been enlightened by my brother that I could see it during the network sign-off when they showed all the cool jets doing loops and afterburner climbs off into various sunsets. Now, I'll admit, I saw the YF-16 in there, and it looked mighty sporty, but then I saw the F-15.
Oh, mighty, mighty F-15.
I had my Mom get me a model from the store, but all they had was a 1:32 scale Streak Eagle. Which was fine, for a while. But I wanted a killer Eagle, awesome as the F-15 record breaker was. So after a wing "accidentally" broke off, I knew I had an angle and my Mom got me (or was it my Dad? Hmmm, can't rightly recall) a 1:72 scale, fully Sparrow and Sidewinder and gas bag-laden F-15A with a big LA on the tail. We had an airbrush,and I was proficient with it, as I'd proven with my F-4 Phantom. But I wanted this paint job to be au natural. Naked hands and supple camel hair brush. One gentle, curving scallop of ghost gray after another. My Mom came in to make sure I was painting with the windows open (due to an embarrassing glue-fume induced high I once had assembling an F-4U Corsair. I wouldn't live that down for two decades) and she even suggested I use the air brush instead. I felt embarrassed by her unannounced entry into my room, and I blushed as I scooted her away, "No, Mom, it has to be personal!" or words to that effect.
Sometime after witnessing the F-15 during the network sign-off (I actually fell asleep on my first few attempts) I had also made it to the library and checked out an air combat aircraft books and wore out the spine so no matter how you flipped, dropped or opened the book, it automatically opened up to the painting and 3-way diagram of a fully stacked F-15 Eagle.
But it was more than all that. It was futuristic. It was sleeker, and more purposefully designed than the Phantom. It broke the camo green/brown mold paint scheme with Compass Ghost Gray. It would reign in the sky for decades yet to come.

to be cont'd