Captain Media

04/04/2026

SR-71 DID run out of liquid nitrogen ! I have repeated before that they never ran out of liquid nitrogen, but they did.
Patrolling the Soviet-Polish border almost precisely 43 years ago, December 21, 1981, after a fifth tank refill of SR-71 #958 near Goose Bay, Labrador pilot BC Thomas, along with RSO Jay Reed, noted that they ran out of their supply of liquid nitrogen! 
At Blackbird speeds and temperatures, oxygen becomes explosive and can spontaneously ignite in the tanks and fuel lines. To prevent this, all six fuel tanks are purged with pure nitrogen before being filled. The Blackbird also carries 260 liters of liquid nitrogen in 3 dewars [for this flight, the SR-71 only had 2 – 106 liter liquid nitrogen dewars. The 3rd 50-liter dewar was added in the mid-1980’s]. This nitrogen expands into its gaseous form as it is pumped into the fuel tanks to top them off as the fuel is consumed.
Without the nitrogen, the empty fuel tanks would collapse from the increased pressure when returning to lower altitudes to refuel.
This meant the fuel tanks could not be pressurized to inert the fuel fumes at high Mach. This problem was easily handled by flying at a slower speed,
So BC limited the cruise to 2.6 Mach at the end of an almost 10-hour flight home to Beale.
 Roberto Garnica  said : One of the crew (an RSO) stated that there is really no sense of speed, unless you can see the top of a mountain going by.
Jeremy Stark:
Oxygen doesn’t explode, nor does it spontaneously ignite. It’s an oxidiser. It requires a fuel.
The fire triangle is fuel, heat, oxygen. The oxygen is not the fuel.
Introduce a burning taper into a pure oxygen environment and the taper just burns brighter.
Problem solved..
Source: Lockheed Blackbird: Beyond the secret missions, The missing chapters.by Paul Crickmore
Linda Sheffield

04/04/2026

Scale mode of Rockwell International XFV-12A.

04/04/2026

Various versions of the Saab Viggen with different engine configurations were proposed to the RAF in 1967.

04/04/2026

The Beriev R-1 was the first Soviet turbojet-powered flying boat. Extensive testing continued to 1956, however, the development of land-based long-range reconnaissance aircraft put the project into jeopardy. After another crash in February 1956, the R-1 was never repaired and subsequently scrapped

04/04/2026

Lockheed EF-80A Shooting Star modified to test the prone pilot cockpit positions.

04/04/2026

The Fairey Delta 1 was a research aircraft developed and produced by British aircraft manufacturer Fairey Aviation. It holds the distinction of being the first British-designed aircraft to be furnished with a delta wing.

04/04/2026

The Fairey B.1/39 proposal by Fairey Aviation for the RAF's B.1/39 specification, an "ideal heavy bomber" requirement from late 1939 for powerful, long-range aircraft.

04/03/2026

"I lay in that hospital bed, bruised and barely able to move, when my son looked me in the eye and said, ‘We can’t take care of you, Mom. Our vacation comes first.’ I smiled, hired a private nurse, and canceled the $6,000 I sent them every month. Hours later, my phone showed 87 missed calls. That was the moment they realized I wasn’t the helpless one after all…
The night I ended up in St. Vincent Medical Center, the first thing I remember was the fluorescent light above me and the sharp ache running from my hip to my ribs. The second thing I remember was my son, Brian, standing at the foot of my hospital bed with his wife, Melissa, both of them looking more inconvenienced than worried.
I had slipped on a wet grocery store entrance during a hard rain. At sixty-eight, one bad fall was enough to fracture my pelvis, bruise my shoulder, and leave me unable to walk without help. The doctor told me I would need several weeks of careful recovery, maybe longer, and I would not be able to go home alone right away.
I thought Brian would be concerned. For years, I had helped him and Melissa stay afloat. When his small construction business had a slow season, I stepped in. When Melissa wanted to leave her job and “focus on the kids,” I said yes. For nearly two years, I had been sending them six thousand dollars every month. I told myself it was temporary support. I told myself family helped family. I told myself my son loved me, even if gratitude was not his strong suit.
But that night, with an IV in my arm and pain medication making everything feel far away, I heard exactly what they thought of me.
“Mom, we can’t take care of you,” Brian snapped, dragging a hand through his hair. “We already booked our vacation.”
Melissa folded her arms. “This trip is our top priority. We need this break. We can’t throw our whole lives off because of an accident.”
Because of an accident.
I stared at them, waiting for one of them to soften, to show some shame, to say they were upset and not thinking straight. Instead, Brian looked at his watch. Melissa started talking about airline cancellation fees. My son, the boy I had raised alone after his father died, was discussing beach reservations while I was lying there unable to sit up without help.
Something inside me went very still.
I did not cry. I did not beg. I did not remind him about the checks, the emergency transfers, the tuition payment I had covered for their oldest daughter, or the rent I had quietly paid three separate times. I simply smiled.
“That’s fine,” I said.
Brian blinked. Melissa looked relieved.
I reached for my phone, called my attorney first, then the private care agency my neighbor had once recommended, and arranged for a full-time nurse and temporary in-home support the moment I was discharged.
Then I opened my banking app.
The monthly transfer scheduled for the first of every month was still there.
I canceled it while my son and daughter-in-law stood three feet away.
Neither of them noticed.
Not yet.
By the time they left for the airport, I was resting against my pillows, calm as could be.
Three hours later, when my phone lit up again and again on the tray beside me, I looked down and saw the screen filled with one name after another.
Brian.
Melissa.
Brian.
Melissa.
Eighty-seven missed calls.
And then the real drama began....To be continued in C0mments 👇

04/03/2026

My son built a ramp for the boy next door so he could finally go outside and play — then an entitled neighbor destroyed it, saying it "ruined the view," but she had no idea what would happen the very next day.
My son Ethan is twelve.
He's the kind of kid who can't ignore something unfair.
The boy next door, Caleb, is nine.
Wheelchair-bound.
Always sitting on his porch, watching other kids play.
Never joining them.
One afternoon, Ethan asked, "Mom... why doesn't Caleb ever come down?"
So we went next door.
Four steep steps.
No ramp.
No way down.
Caleb's mom said they'd been saving for one for over a year. Insurance wouldn't cover it.
That night, Ethan started sketching.
His dad, who died three months ago, taught him to build.
The next day, he used all the money he'd been saving for a new bicycle to buy materials.
For three days, he worked.
After school. Until dark.
Measuring. Cutting. Sanding.
When he finished, we carried it over and installed it together.
It wasn't perfect.
But it worked.
For the first time, Caleb rolled down to the sidewalk.
The look on his face—
pure joy.
Kids gathered around him.
He laughed.
Played.
The next morning, shouting woke me up.
I ran outside—
and froze.
A woman from down the street stood there, furious.
"This is an eyesore!" she snapped.
Before we could react, she grabbed a metal bar—
and smashed the ramp.
Wood cracked.
Caleb screamed.
Ethan just stood there.
She didn't stop until it collapsed.
Then she dropped the bar.
"Fix your mess," she said coldly.
Caleb was back on the porch.
Watching.
Again.
I thought that was the worst part.
Until the next morning.
When a long black SUV slowly pulled up in front of her house—
followed by two more behind it.
Men in suits stepped out.
Serious. Quiet.
Not neighbors.
Not police.
One of them walked straight to her door and knocked.
When she opened it, smiling like nothing had happened—
he said something I couldn't hear.
But I saw her expression change.
Her smile disappeared.
Her shoulders dropped.
And the second she heard WHO little Caleb was related to—
her hands started trembling. ⬇️

04/03/2026

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