Will we ever see another liftoff into space? I remember the launch of Discovery from its enormous pad on April 28, 1991. Don and I were halfway through our vagabond RV years, and only miles from Titusville, Florida, when we heard of it. 

Everything changes at times of monumental happenings, like nosing into a grassy widening of the roadway becoming legal, directly across from the launch pad. We arrived first, but within 18 hours my diary calls it a mass of humanity! Our first neighbor left his a/c on to accommodate his wife and 7 Bassett hounds, until we heard a scream, If you dont turn that damn thing off, someone may kill you! 

As the sky darkened gaseous golds and blues lit up the base of Discovery where fueling had begun. Finally, we set our alarm for 6:15 a.m., and turned in.

At 4 a.m. the drone of voices outdoors woke us. I began coffee, while Don hauled chairs, heavy camcorder, binoculars, blanket, camera and donuts to the roof of our RV. Long before liftoff excited souls sat huddled on roofs or on parkway, swathed in blankets and jackets as a stiff breeze pushed fog in and out. 

Delayed, we heard several times, then counting, 3-2-1. Across the water between our road and the pad, a long, thin gold streak lifted skyward. 

(Now Ill quote my diary:) Soon it was evident it was a blast. Then we could all see the rocket going up with billowy clouds or steam below it. About one minute later came the blast and we all agreed, in the excitement of the liftoff wed forgotten the noise! Thirty seconds to a minute after that came the concussion, also forgotten!

It rose and headed north, its fuel tank separating just as clouds obscured it from view. Newspapers told us later the crew began noting small problems to fix, and Im glad we were oblivious of that.

 

One man related a story weve never forgotten, and Ill quote again, omitting his last name:

Bob told us about when he drove a semi-truck, and Cape Canaveral was almost new, about late 1950s. He was asked to take his flatbed truck to a government base, and when he picked it up a few days later it had sides and a top on it. He was told only not to open it, and given three military escorts who stayed with him at all times. They left Tulsa, Okla., and drove to Florida, not stopping at truck weigh-in stations, as per instructions. Instead of the military driving in to explain to authorities or calling ahead, they were just to barrel through! At the Mississippi border weight-in station the escort in front did go through, and Bob followed with his two in the rear. Soon a police car was on Bobs tail and he stopped, not wanting to be chased down. The policeman came up and asked to see his Bill of Lading. Bob said, I dont have any. That didnt please the guy and he said, Dont lie to me, boy, to which Bob explained his truck had been changed and he had instructions not to open it. At one point the policeman got pretty angry and went around to the rear. The military escorts came up on each side of the officer with guns drawn. Bob remembers the policeman saying, On second thought, I dont have to see in here anyway, and off he went!

Bob told Don and me, When we got to the cape the truck was taken from me and I was put up in a motel. They returned it to me as a flatbed again. He never knew what hed hauled or why. 

Excitement died rapidly at the cape that 1991 day after the clouds engulfed our reason for being there, and soon we headed for our next overnight stop. It had been an experience to remember, though.