Disneyland USA I   only   heard   about   this.   I   didn’t   really   have   anything   to   do   with   it.   I   wasn’t   there.   I   didn’t   do   any   of the   things   this   story   tells   about.   Any   reference   to   any   person   living   or   not,   who   may   resemble someone you know is purely coincidental, really. On   one   of   our   many   trips   to   that   one   base   in   a   large   western   state   to   test   that   one   thing   that   cost about   a   million   dollars   a   copy,   someone   suggested   we   finagle   a   blue   car   from   the   car   pool   and make our way to that one city where all the movie stars live. Someone said, “Cool. Let’s go.” First   things   first   –   who’s   going.   It   seems   there   were   about   six   young   men   who   believed   this would be a good thing to do. Next,   transportation.   Someone   in   the   group   had   to   have   enough   foolishness   remaining   in   him   to severely   embellish   the   truth   about   who   he   was   and   the   purpose   for   which   a   “For   Official   Use Only”   transport   was   needed.   Papers   were   signed,   commitments   were   made,   keys   were   handed over and a carload of GI’s headed out of the desert into the big city of angels. As   soon   as   that   American   Motors   station   wagon   had   the   base   gate   in   the   rear   view   mirror,   all occupants   were   subject   to   serious   UCMJ   action,   but   what   the   heck,   it   was   for   a   good   cause. Someone   was   almost   32   years   old   and   had   looked   forward   to   visiting   the   land   of   Disney   since   he first   fell   in   love   with   that   one   dark   eyed,   dark   haired,   girl   Mouseketeer.   This   was   a   birthday present extraordinaire, and all that was done was rationalized to the extreme. As   the   crew   of   highly   trained   and   educated   young   men   made   their   way   into   the   city,   a   wonderful thing   happened   –   the   ordinary   looking   two   lane   highway   suddenly   became   six   lanes   of   crazy people   rushing   headlong   at   great   speed   into   the   unseen   abyss   that   lay   ahead,   traffic   signs   only   a blur   along   the   way. And   believe   it   or   not,   the   old   station   wagon   got   in   on   the   fun   too   and   began   to misfire   and   sputter   dangerously   toward   stalling   as   the   speedometer   was   reading   70   plus   MPH. The   car   jerked   and   heaved   in   the   middle   lane   like   a   pogo   stick.   Someone   began   praying   out   loud it   seems.   Must   have   been   some   bad   gas   or   something.   After   a   few   moments   of   lamenting   the fact   the   vehicle   was   essentially   stolen   and   the   occupants   were   criminals,   the   motor   resumed normal   operation   and   there   was   a   collective   sigh   of   relief   as   the   transport   moved   back   into   the traffic flow. Close, so very close, to defeat and sorrow. That   made   the   sight   of   the   entry   to   Disneyland   all   the   more   sweet,   even   if   it   was   three   in   the afternoon.   Midweek   parking   was   a   breeze   as   was   getting   into   the   park   itself.   The   birthday   boy was all aglow for realizing a boyhood dream coming true. There   were   rides,   a   hologram,   President   Lincoln   making   a   speech   in   the   round,   bands,   singers, dancing,   more   rides,   high   priced   food,   and   finally   a   light   show   parade   complete   with   fireworks and   music   galore.   What   a   day   to   share   with   friends,   good   friends,   friends   willing   to   suffer   severe consequences to spend the day with a buddy celebrating his birthday. Cool, way cool. The   ride   home,   like   they   say,   was   uneventful,   except   for   the   chatter   of   excitement   in   rehearsing recent   fun   and   joyful   experiences.   Each   ride   was   talked   about,   each   event   gone   over   and   over again   as   the   faithful American   made   ride   took   the ARIA   “Crew   for   the   day”   back   to   that   one   place in the Mojave desert. The   car   was   turned   back   in,   not   too   much   worse   for   wear,   papers   were   signed,   keys   turned   back in, and it was back to the ARIA hotel by the golf course for a good night’s sleep. My   wife   still   has   the   hand   painted   plaster   of   Paris   Mickey   Mouse   on   the   shelf   along   with   all   her other   mouse   ornaments,   not   that   I   gave   it   to   her,   not   that   I   was   the   birthday   boy,   or   even   on   the trip you understand. Really, honest. Neil A. Hendricks HF Operator ARIA 60-0374
ARIA History Website and Archive
Apollo Range Instrumentation Aircraft
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Advanced Range Instrumentation Aircraft
     United States Air Force
Disneyland USA I   only   heard   about   this.   I   didn’t   really   have   anything   to do   with   it.   I   wasn’t   there.   I   didn’t   do   any   of   the   things this   story   tells   about. Any   reference   to   any   person   living or   not,   who   may   resemble   someone   you   know   is   purely coincidental, really. On   one   of   our   many   trips   to   that   one   base   in   a   large western   state   to   test   that   one   thing   that   cost   about   a million   dollars   a   copy,   someone   suggested   we   finagle   a blue   car   from   the   car   pool   and   make   our   way   to   that one   city   where   all   the   movie   stars   live.   Someone   said, “Cool. Let’s go.” First   things   first   –   who’s   going.   It   seems   there   were about   six   young   men   who   believed   this   would   be   a good thing to do. Next,   transportation.   Someone   in   the   group   had   to   have enough     foolishness     remaining     in     him     to     severely embellish   the   truth   about   who   he   was   and   the   purpose for    which    a    “For    Official    Use    Only”    transport    was needed.     Papers     were     signed,     commitments     were made,   keys   were   handed   over   and   a   carload   of   GI’s headed out of the desert into the big city of angels. As   soon   as   that   American   Motors   station   wagon   had the   base   gate   in   the   rear   view   mirror,   all   occupants were    subject    to    serious    UCMJ    action,    but    what    the heck,   it   was   for   a   good   cause.   Someone   was   almost   32 years   old   and   had   looked   forward   to   visiting   the   land   of Disney   since   he   first   fell   in   love   with   that   one   dark   eyed, dark    haired,    girl    Mouseketeer.    This    was    a    birthday present    extraordinaire,    and    all    that    was    done    was rationalized to the extreme. As   the   crew   of   highly   trained   and   educated   young   men made     their     way     into     the     city,     a     wonderful     thing happened    –    the    ordinary    looking    two    lane    highway suddenly    became    six    lanes    of    crazy    people    rushing headlong   at   great   speed   into   the   unseen   abyss   that   lay ahead,    traffic    signs    only    a    blur    along    the    way.   And believe   it   or   not,   the   old   station   wagon   got   in   on   the   fun too    and    began    to    misfire    and    sputter    dangerously toward   stalling   as   the   speedometer   was   reading   70   plus MPH. The   car   jerked   and   heaved   in   the   middle   lane   like a    pogo    stick.    Someone    began    praying    out    loud    it seems.   Must   have   been   some   bad   gas   or   something. After   a   few   moments   of   lamenting   the   fact   the   vehicle was     essentially     stolen     and     the     occupants     were criminals,    the    motor    resumed    normal    operation    and there   was   a   collective   sigh   of   relief   as   the   transport moved   back   into   the   traffic   flow.   Close,   so   very   close,   to defeat and sorrow. That   made   the   sight   of   the   entry   to   Disneyland   all   the more    sweet,    even    if    it    was    three    in    the    afternoon. Midweek   parking   was   a   breeze   as   was   getting   into   the park   itself.   The   birthday   boy   was   all   aglow   for   realizing a boyhood dream coming true. There     were     rides,     a     hologram,     President     Lincoln making   a   speech   in   the   round,   bands,   singers,   dancing, more   rides,   high   priced   food,   and   finally   a   light   show parade   complete   with   fireworks   and   music   galore.   What a   day   to   share   with   friends,   good   friends,   friends   willing to   suffer   severe   consequences   to   spend   the   day   with   a buddy celebrating his birthday. Cool, way cool. The   ride   home,   like   they   say,   was   uneventful,   except   for the   chatter   of   excitement   in   rehearsing   recent   fun   and joyful   experiences.   Each   ride   was   talked   about,   each event    gone    over    and    over    again    as    the    faithful American   made   ride   took   the   ARIA   “Crew   for   the   day” back to that one place in the Mojave desert. The   car   was   turned   back   in,   not   too   much   worse   for wear,   papers   were   signed,   keys   turned   back   in,   and   it was   back   to   the   ARIA   hotel   by   the   golf   course   for   a good night’s sleep. My    wife    still    has    the    hand    painted    plaster    of    Paris Mickey    Mouse    on    the    shelf    along    with    all    her    other mouse   ornaments,   not   that   I   gave   it   to   her,   not   that   I was     the     birthday     boy,     or     even     on     the     trip     you understand. Really, honest. Neil A. Hendricks HF Operator ARIA 60-0374
ARIA History Website and Archive
      United States Air Force Apollo Range Instrumentation Aircraft Advanced Range Instrumentation Aircraft
This Web Site Copyright © 2000-2017 Randy L. Losey - All other works Copyright © by their perspective owners