Neil Armstrong died today.

My father worked for NASA on the X-15 project at Edwards Air Force Base in the 1960s and the Armstrongs were friends of the family. We attended the same church and my father and Neil were both ushers, as were several other test pilots, so I became an usher so I could hang out with them in the lobby during the sermon and listen to their shop talk. If it wasn't the recent test flight they were talking about, it was the upcoming test.

On test flight days, my mother and brother and I would get up very early, four in the morning, and drive out into the desert to a spot where we could see the flight. We'd watch the designated part of the sky, and pretty soon we could see the B-52 in the distance, followed by a couple of F-104 chase planes.

When the B-52 released the X-15, we would see that extra contrail start and speed away from the bomber as if it were standing still.

There were two basic types of test flights: speed and altitude. On speed flights, the X-15 would rocket past us so fast that it seemed to cover the entire sky in a matter of seconds and disappear on the horizon, but my favorite flights were the altitude tests, because as the X-15 climbed higher and higher it appeared to go slower and slower until it seemed almost to just stop. When it reached its peak it would appear to gain speed and again, disappear on the horizon.

After the flight, my mother would drop us off at school in time for our first classes. That evening, the local paper, the Lancaster Ledger-Gazette would have a big headline about the flight. I'd read all about it with the same enthusiasm as I did when I checked the baseball standings. What I didn't realize at the time was that the entire world was not paying as close attention as I was, as close attention as the citizens of the Antelope Valley. Not until Tom Wolfe's book, The Right Stuff, was my perception brought into line.