50 years ago Concorde first scorched across the Atlantic. Now snail-paced planes are a nightmare
The sleek, supersonic, 203-foot tailless bird with a downturned nose scorched across the ocean and cast a shock wave over the water implying the promise of a new age of modern travel.
On September 26, 1973, the Concorde’s sprint from Washington D.C. to Paris took three and-a-half hours. (Above) The interior of an Air France Concorde is seen in this May 1973
Nearly 50 years ago, the Concorde’s first, non-stop transatlantic flight was the stuff of science fiction.
The sleek, supersonic, 203-foot tailless bird with a downturned nose scorched across the ocean and cast a shock wave over the water implying the promise of a new age of modern travel.
It seemed like a beginning.
It turned out to be an end.
On September 26, 1973, the Concorde’s sprint from Washington D.C. to Paris took three and-a-half hours.
Today’s Boeings cover that distance in more than twice that time.
In 1969, four years earlier, American men landed on the Moon in another achievement we can’t seem to match these days.
Was there something in the water? Was Gordon Lightfoot really that inspiring?
If the 20th was the century of technological transformation, the 21st, so far, feels like one of mechanical mediocrity.
Where is my flying car?
In the 80s, my friend Denise flew onboard the British Airways Concorde.
I asked her what it was like to be seated on the cutting edge of human endeavor.
‘There was a mid-air take off,’ she recalled of the moment the four Rolls-Royce/SNECMA Olympus 593 engines were finally let loose, jolting passengers back into their roomy, grey leather seats.