Rockets were invented thousands of years ago by the Chinese. They never used their rockets to wage war. They just enjoyed them.
A good rocket flies straight and true. It doesn't explode or wander off course. To me watching one is pure magic. They are beautiful when they soar so high and go out of sight. In some way we reach for the heavens and yearn for the stars. What is out there? We will find out eventually.
Am I the only woman who loves rockets? I love the really big ones.
My dad started making and firing model rockets with the help of mechanical engineers from a local company in 1959 in Shreveport, La. He took a bunch of kids including me to watch. We were out of town in a farmer's pasture. One launch in particular stays in my mind. One of his rockets was made so perfectly that it reached 14,000 feet, narrowly missing a Cessna flying overhead. The farmer came roaring down a dirt road in a real fury. He shouted at my dad that he could have killed one of his cows. None of the crowd ever found that rocket.
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