My Mom and NASA STS-51I

I can only recall one time my father wasn’t willing to take my mom somewhere. It was 1985 and my mothers wanted to watch Space Shuttle Discovery land at Edwards AFB. Discovery’s flight lasted 7 days, 2 hours, 17 minutes, 42 seconds and it landed on September3, 1985 at 6:15:43 a.m.

But that’s the end of the story and that’s almost never what I’m all about. Now I, like my father, wasn’t crazy about getting up at Oh Dark Thirty but I could see my mom really wanted to go. It wasn’t surprising. My mom liked to watch construction work being done. She liked watching the Lockheed SR-71 under full afterburner at the airshow at Point Mugu.

A Lockheed SR-71 under full afterburner.

In fact, my mother told the story of the sights and sounds of the Blackbird many times after the show. She just loved stuff like that.

A retired Lockheed SR-71A (Blackbird, s/n 64-17972, A19920072000) photographed on a road in front of the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum temporary Blackbird storage hangar at Dulles International Airport, Chantilly, Virginia.

On that early autumn morning, I picked my mom up in my 1981 Nissan Diesel pickup truck and we made our way to the high desert a little before 4 a.m. Topanga was quiet but not empty and a early-season Santa Ana was working its way south. 

Nothing, and I mean nothing, sounds and feels like a diesel cruising on a freeway in the dark. There’s a quality to the pitch and rhythm of the engine (in this case the Nissan SD-22, originally designed for use in forklifts) that makes it feel steady and inevitable and loyal as it powers the truck forward into time and space. Somehow, someway, a cruising diesel constantly reminds you that you’re truly going somewhere.

You can feel it in your bones.

We picked up the 405 and left the 118 behind and all was still dark. Sunrise was at 6:27 a.m. and Discovery was supposed to land fifteen minutes before then. Traffic on the 14 was a little heavier going south than north. It felt like we were the only ones heading toward the dry lake even though I knew we weren’t. We rolled on, mostly in silence, my mom commenting from time to time about the way the mountains had been cut to allow the highway to go through.

I don’t remember where we got off the 14. There was no GPS and I don’t even think we brought a map. We only had our reckoning and that turned out to be enough. Looking at a map, I will guess we got off somewhere around Rosamond before we headed east. Finally, we saw a small collection of cars and campers sitting on the side of the road, south of what we could later see was the dry-lake runway itself. I picked a place to park and we got out of the truck and stretched our legs. Then, we waited along with a few hundred others who huddled in small groups in the pre-dawn chill.

A few guys further up the road scanned the sky with binoculars, while trying to guess the direction of Discovery’s approach. Finally, in the very quietest moment, a boom rolled over the desert. Seconds later, a cheer rose from the faithful and everyone looked skyward to catch a glimpse of the shuttle on its approach.

Finally, we could see it. It didn’t look much like an airplane. As it traveled across the indigo sky, it also descended, very fast. It looked very much like a stone falling and it was hard to imagine something falling so fast could ever slow enough to make its way safely down the runway. 

Finally, Discovery made a huge, soft turn and began to approach the dry lake from the east. Now the shape of Discovery could be clearly seen as it lined up perfectly above the center of the runway. Discovery was no more than a few hundred feet away as it passed us, close enough for us to see its red and white parachute billow from the rear of the fuselage. The crowd whooped as it went by and once it was stationary, far in the distance, people began to look at one another, making sure everyone had witnessed what they had experienced. That’s an interesting kind of sharing, seeing something so noteworthy and, for my mom and me, unique in all of our lives. A couple years later, I would again stand at Edwards and look to the sky as Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier in an McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II on the 40th anniversary of his 1947 flight in the Bell X-1.

But on that day in 1985 I thought only of my mother and how lucky we were to share such an amazing experience. My mom turned to me and grabbed my arm. “Paulie, I’m so glad we saw this!”

My Mom and NASA STS-51I

Randolph Engineering Aviator

Like a few million other guys my age, I grew up with the legend of American Astronauts. But, even though I respected guys like Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin it was the Mercury and pre-Mercury guys like Chuck Yeager and L. Gordon Cooper who really got me going.

Cooper was regarded as the best pure stick & rudder guy of the Mercury era and he held the record for lowest heart rate during take off of any of the Mercury or Gemini astronauts. Now, maybe that just meant that Cooper was dumb but it always seemed like seemed like tough & unflappable to me. More than anything, the guy just looked like an American pilot and I’m sure Cooper very much saw himself as a pilot first and an astronaut second.

Anyway, the man had style.

Astronauts-in-American-Optical-Sunglasses (1)

And, the thing is, I needed new sunglasses. Like needed…like I lost one of my go-to shades. I looked around for a current version of the cheaters Cooper wore back in the day and I came up with Randolph Engineering.

What? Sunglasses that are made in the US?

I know; totally crazy. I’ve owned French sunglasses, Italian sunglasses, German sunglasses and doubtlessly many pairs made in China. But, unless I had (and surely later lost) an old pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers from back in the early 80s I’m pretty sure I’ve never owned a pair of US-made shades until now. Who knows? Maybe Ray-Bans were already made off shore even back then.

Sure, I could have maybe scoped out a better deal online but I decided to go old school and cruised over to the local Randolph stockist right here in the West Val. The optometrist owns a pair of Randolphs himself and said that he brought the line in because he thought the idea of US-made sunglasses was cool, as do I.

There are a lot of options but I chose to ignore most of them and confined my choices to frames: flat black, matte chrome or bright chrome. The black, even though it’s my default color choice in everything except cars, kind of hid some of the contours of the frame. The bright chrome rocked out loud but since I do not I passed on those shiny beauties. The matte chrome shows the frames off nicely so I snatched them up.

P1040103

The Aviators fit me beautifully and they fairly scream quality as well as faultless fabrication and assembly. You can truly feel the pride of the people who made them and that’s worth a lot to me. I was a bit uncertain about the straight temples but my doubts evaporated once i slipped them on.

It got me wondering, why do they make curved temples when straight is so dang comfy?

Randolph makes the Aviator in three sizes and I found the middle size to be just right. My final justification for the buy was the fact that the Aviator can be used with prescription lenses. Someday, but not today, I’ll need prescription lenses to navigate the highways and byways of California and when I do I’ll be set with my Randolph Aviators.

The more I think about it, the better value the Randolphs are. When you factor in the US manufacture and the lifetime warranty they cross into the realm of how do they manage to sell them for the price? In fact, I may end up with another pair if I’m not careful.

If you find yourself short a pair of sunglasses, do yourself a favor and check out the Randolph Aviators. I am digging them and I’m a very hard man to please.

 

 

Randolph Engineering Aviator