Motorworld

Fly Down to Reno
The P-51 Mustang was America's answer to the Japanese

Zero. Powered by a US-built Rolls-Royce Merlin

engine, it delivered 1500 horsepower and a knockout blow

to the flying machines of the Pacific Rim.

However, the P-51 in which I flew was churning out

3000 horsepower and could deliver a knockout blow to

my central nervous system - which was very nervous

indeed.

You see, if a 1940s' car breaks down, and let's face it

they do, a lot, you coast to the side of the road and await

the AA. But if a 1940s' plane breaks down it doesn't so

much as coast but plummet.

And that's a normal plane. But the one in which I went

for a ride had been tuned and fettled to turn it from war

plane into a 1990s' racer. The cockpit canopy had been

lopped off each of the wings to reduce drag, and the engine

had been tweaked to the point where it was a bomb. And

the clock was ticking.

In the back, it was noisy and hot and as the thermals

rose to buffet our undersides, there were moments of

queasiness, though thankfully they stopped short of

becoming the spectacular outpourings that occurred in

the F-15.

There wasn't time to be sick anyhow. You see, an F-15

struts its stuff in the stratosphere, but the Mustang was

designed for low-level performance. So I now know what

it's like to do 500 mph 50 feet from the deck.

It's bloody good fun right up to the moment when

the pilot decides to turn. This of course means you stay

50 feet up but one of the wings does not. From where I

was sitting, it seemed like the tip was actually pruning the

bushes.

The pilots need to be familiar with ultra-low flight

because in a race they may need to get among the weeds

to overtake. But we weren't in a race. So there was no

need to be down there so pleeeeease Mr Pilot, can we go

back up again. Pretty please? With bows on?

The answer was no, and for an hour we charged about

in the