fcs@hardy.hdw.csd.harris.com (Fred Sabernick) (04/11/90)
04/10/90 : Scheduled Launch of STS-31
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! At 2:57am the alarm chimes into my consciousness.
The sound is the same as any other day, but the result is not. I awake eagerly,
knowing today is the day I might see the shuttle liftoff from a mere six miles
away! I put the excitement aside, knowing that disappointment can occur at any
time.
First things first. Walk into the living room, flip on the boob tube.
Most us have heard that voice: "It's 3:00am and time for Headline News". The
lead story is the shuttle: good, I won't have to wait long. The announcer
quickly states a 60% chance of favorable weather conditions for launch, which
is unchanged from the last report I watched Monday evening. Had the report
been less than 50/50 I don't think I would have gone. But the news is good,
so I wake Lisa. We are on the road by 3:25. We have ~180 miles to cover from
Ft. Lauderdale to the I-95 KSC exit. There we will meet my father who has the
KSC Vehicle Pass that will enable us to get so close to the launch.
There is a full moon tonight, and I am constantly watching the sky.
The cloud cover is thin and sparse, and seems to be thinning as we get
further north. My anxiety about the clouds is related to reports that the
launch is most likely to be scrubbed by low flying clouds.
Lisa remarks that the car seems to be handling strangely. I have been
too preoccupied with the sky and haven't noticed. I silence the radio while
she rolls down her window to listen. The steering does feel soft, so we pull
off the road. One look at the right rear tire is enough: it is much too low.
With the engine off, I can hear tell-tale hissing. We are 100 miles from home,
half-way there, and it is nearing 5:00am. Wrong time to have a flat. My spare
is one of those little undersize jobs, not meant to be ridden for more than a
few miles and at no faster speed than 45 mph.
Time for one of those miracles of modern technology, FIX-A-FLAT. I
empty a whole can into the tire as instructed. The tire has pressurized nicely.
After reading the instructions, I drive the car slowly for about 3 miles to
distribute the sealant. We stop and look at the tire again. All seems fine,
and I am proud I had the foresight to buy the miracle product. With smiles on
our faces, we continue on our merry way. I am supposed to meet my father at
6:00am just off I-95, we may be a little late (but not much).
KABOOM! The tire explodes. One quick swerve, and then I wrestle the car
off the road. "Fascinating", as Spock would say: the tire has blown out in
several sections at once. One-quick-in-the-dark-on-a-lonely-road tire change
later and we are back on the road. So much for the spare tire limitations; in
order to see this launch the tire will have to be driven ~80 miles and at 65+
mph. Fortunately the rest of the journey to the NASA I-95 exit is without
incident. I am miffed that a failure in a minor miracle product may prevent me
from seeing a major miracle product.
At last the proper exit is upon us. My father is waiting at the
pre-arranged meeting place (a Dennys restaurant). In typical fashion he arrived
at 5:30 from Orlando in case we were early. It is now 6:35. I had hoped to eat
before dashing for the Cape, now there is no time. Traffic is starting to build
on FL 50 which forks to become the NASA Parkway.
Our troubles are just beginning. Traffic is backed up solid and we are
still two miles from the bridge to Merritt Island. The next 1:50 is spent in
agonizing bumper-to-bumper slowness. We are very doubtful that we will make the
viewing site, and we agree that at T-2 minutes we will simply pull over and
watch. It may not be as close as we could have been, but it will have to
suffice.
Bang! While still suffering in traffic we observe a collision as a car
grew impatient and suddenly tried a left turn in front of traffic. The turning
car catches an oncoming car square on the driver's door, knocking the oncoming
car off the road and rolling it twice. Amazingly we see the driver unstrap
himself and get out of his car, then run to the car that hit him to help that
driver. The other driver is stuck in her car and may be injured. Several people
have stopped to help. So we press on. An ambulance and fire-rescue unit are on
the scene less than three minutes later. I assume they were called by someone
with a car phone. When the emergency vehicles arrive we have traveled a scant
100 ft, and we watch the rescue operation until we very gradually leave it
behind.
The weather has steadily improved. What few low flying clouds were
present have now completely dissipated. Listening to the radio, the chances
for launch based on weather conditions have been upgraded to 80/20. Looks more
like 100/0 to me. Weather conditions are not so favorable at one of the Trans-
Atlantic sites, and there is radio discussion about a hold until this site
clears. We pray for a short hold, say an hour or so.
T-17 minutes (8:30am). We have reached the causeway bridge. The
backup is now obvious: everyone is lined up to get to Merritt Island whether
they have a pass or not. Knowing we are very late I can still sympathize,
having been in that position earlier (1984). Those who do not have passes are
forced to U-turn and park on the west side of the bridge. We have our pass
prominently displayed in the front windshield, as instructed. It is neon red,
with STS-31 showing in bold letters.
T-15 minutes. We are through the gate! The amount of traffic is minimal
now, and we are doing a 55 mph clip across the Indian River bridge to get to
Merritt Island. Everyone is excited now. The holy grail of viewing areas is
within reach, but we are running out of time. We pass up one area just over the
river, because I am hoping we can get closer. The area we passed up is the same
area I viewed a launch from in 1984 without a pass: it seems the rules have
changed.
T-10 minutes. We pass the KSC Visitor's center. No one thinks about
stopping now, I am sure we are going to make it. From the Vehicle Pass I had
guessed the best viewing area was going to be between KSC and Cape Kennedy
AFB. That area is just ahead of us as the road bends slightly south.
T-5 minutes. We have reached the viewing area! Another anxious minute
to park (there are ~500 cars out this far), then we bound out of the car. The
site is perfect. I can see the launch pad clearly. It is nearly due north and
can't be much if any farther than the six miles advertised. Our view is
unobstructed as most of it is over water (the Banana River). Using the 210
zoom lens on my camera I can SEE the shuttle. WE MADE IT!
There are loud speakers set up and I am half-listening to them when
the countdown is held. Uh-oh. Let it be something minor, please! Then I hear
that dreaded three letter acronym: APU. Not those damn things again.
And suddenly it is over. The mission is scrubbed, and it did not take
long to make that decision from what I could gather. There is talk about taking
the countdown down to T-31 seconds and keeping the options open for a
reschedule. Maybe tomorrow, maybe Thursday or later. Doesn't matter to me.
I can't return for another attempt at this mission. Disappointment and
frustration set in. We came so close. So close, and yet so far ...
One quick-memory-wipe-of-old-Franki-Valli-tunes-later and I am back in
the world. The launch post-mortem by mission control is endless: turn-off this
switch, shutdown this system, etc. Put the beast to sleep. Right after the
scrub we all said we should stay a little longer, just because it took so long
and so much to get here. But the disappointment is too strong, and after a
port-a-potty stop we are on the road home. Much later on the drive home it
occurs to me we came a long way to use an outdoor toilet.
As we pull off I-95 near home Lisa says "Next time I'm sure we'll
see it launch." I love an optimist @%^).
Epilogue: Yes, I got a little depressed and this is good therapy. I learned
some tricks to getting on Merritt Island with Pass: I know I can do
it much easier next time. Anyone who is interested can e-mail for
more info. I'd put it into this post, but my fingers are tired.
Expect your reply at post-office speeds, I've got a lot of catching
up to do at work.
Fred Sabernick Disappointed, but not discouraged.
fcs@hdw.csd.harris.com "I shall return."