It stands as tall as a 36-story building and if it had failed at launch, the explosion would have rivaled a small atomic bomb. It was designed using pencil, paper and sweat by men who had designed the very rockets that had rained down on London during World War 2. It lifted off slowly toward the heavens and it’s 1960’s technology never failed (something my 1969 Firebird did occasionally.) It was American’s technological miracle. It was the Saturn V.
The Saturn V was — and still is — the most powerful rocket ever built. It took men to the moon, put Skylab into orbit and lifted our dreams toward the stars. Three exist today — in Huntsville, Alabama (a testing model) and in Florida and Houston, Texas (from cancelled Apollo missions after America became bored with moon missions and Congress didn’t want to pay for them.). It was replaced by the Space Shuttles — which now reside in museums, too. Someday the massive SLS rocket will rival it. Someday.
But for now, the Saturn V is the king of rockets. And to me, it stands for something even bigger than its giant size.
America had vision back then. We dared to conquer the impossible — and did. The Apollo missions provided hope during a hopeless time. As I stood beneath the mighty rocket this weekend, awed by its size and the size of the dream that created it. I remembered what we are capable of when we pull together. It was when a dream could conquer bureaucracy.
I walked the length of the old rocket and looked at my sons. I can only hope their generation has the courage to dream again like the creators of the Saturn V once did.
3…2….1….liftoff.
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