Feb 012016
There I was, driving through the dreary interior of California on a 200-mile trip to go out on a date, when I turned on the radio to hear that the Space Shuttle Columbia had exploded on re-entry. There followed at least an hour of the dusty nothingness that is the road to Sacramento, and then the date, which involved meeting the young ladies mother. Neither of them gave a rats ass about the Shuttle, while I was kinda desperate to see the news on the TV. Yeah, not what you’d call a great social success story. Oh well.
Anyway, there has long been debate on whether if, with enough knowledge and effort, the crew could have been saved. I’m of the opinion that the moment the foam smacked the wing, the crew was pretty much doomed. But maybe…