Let us say, just for the hell of it, there was this old boy who was not brain damaged so much as he was impetuous and romantic, the sort of fellow who, but for the grace of poor vision and ten thumbs, a trick knee and an unhealthy dependence on bonded bourbon, might have made a fighter pilot. Lately he has been captivated and obsessed by some of the slickest ads in print, the ones depicting the F-20 Tigershark poised on a liquid mirror out in the Mojave Desert. What is it about this bird, he wonders, that has caused it...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
