On my third flight, my instructor had to abort, so I went up solo in a clean bird. I climbed to about 35,000 feet over Lake Mead with the ADF tuned to a Vegas music station—and they played The Sabre Dance. I went nuts in the airplane, doing crazy rolls, and with full power, dove straight down through the Mach. (We didn’t have TACAN in those days, just an old WWII-era ADF that tuned from 520 to 1600 kc.)
