rammed into the tiny, 18-inch-wide cockpit of a Cassutt IIIM, the roar enveloped me, battering my ears mercilessly. Watching the red tachometer needle dance over the dial in front of me, I saw the propeller vanish into the velocity of its own spin. The craft was alive, trembling under me with only the brakes clamping it in place on the concrete pad. The noise hammered my ears.
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