An interesting experience from a pilot....

The DC-8 was originally built in 1958 by the Douglas Aircraft Company. It was Mr. Douglas's first jet transport; its predecessor, the DC-7, was a piston-powered airliner. The DC-8 is a large airplane. The stretched versions could carry up to 18 cargo containers (4.5 tractor-trailer loads) or, in passenger service, as many as 259 passengers.

Early jet engines were loud, smoky, and thirsty. I remember standing on the ramp in Trinidad watching friends depart in a DC-8. The ground literally shook as they rolled down the runway.

As noise regulations became stricter, airlines were forced to find ways to quiet their fleets. The cargo airline I flew for launched a project to develop "hush kits" that could be retrofitted to existing engines to reduce noise. The plan was to modify our fleet of 14 DC-8s and then market the kits to other DC-8 operators around the world.

I was fortunate enough to be assigned to the flight-test program.

The airplane was covered with ~300 sensors. A bank of computers resided behind the cockpit, recording data. We carried hundreds of sandbags on pallets that could be moved throughout the aircraft to simulate different loading conditions and center-of-gravity positions. An FAA test pilot occupied the left seat.

We flew four hours a day, Monday through Friday, over the Gulf of Mexico.

Our work included sawtooth climbs, where we would shut down an engine and record climb performance; full aerodynamic stalls; and Mach dives, where we climbed to the airplane's service ceiling and pushed the nose over to observe its behavior as we approached redline speed.

Not the actual plane but this is a DC 8*

The FAA test pilot occasionally liked to break up the monotony with what he called a "zoom maneuver." He would accelerate to maximum speed just a few feet above the water and then abruptly pull the nose skyward, climbing several thousand feet in a matter of seconds. I often wondered whether we were leaving a rooster tail behind us.

Every day we operated on an FAA flight plan. One pilot would talk to Miami Center while the other monitored Fort Myers Center. During one flight, I noticed a small business jet orbiting in our vicinity. I wondered what they were doing out there but didn't think much about it.

At the end of the day, we headed back to Miami.

While on final approach, I noticed a Black Hawk helicopter hovering near the control tower. It was unusual, but then again, it was Miami.

After landing, Ground Control instructed us to taxi not to our ramp, but to the Customs area and shut down.

As we approached, I saw the Black Hawk, another helicopter, dozens of law enforcement vehicles, and what appeared to be a small army waiting for us.

The moment I opened the cockpit door, a DEA agent stormed aboard with a German Shepherd straining at the leash and a machine gun pointed in our direction. I've never seen so much ammunition hanging from one person.

Our passports were confiscated. We were held at gunpoint while agents ran background checks and searched the airplane from nose to tail. The sandbags was probed as they searched for drugs.

The DEA had scrambled a Cessna Citation out of New Orleans to shadow us. They didn't talk to anybody.

Eventually, the agents concluded we weren't drug smugglers. Our records were clean, the airplane was clean, and we were released.

The FAA test pilot was absolutely furious.

The search, however, had wrecked the sandbags. We were grounded for a week while they were removed, patched, refilled, and reloaded.

When we finally resumed testing, we performed another full stall—a maneuver that was surprisingly violent in a DC-8. As the nose dropped and the airplane recovered, I looked back into the cabin.

A floor-to-ceiling cloud of sand stretched the entire length of the aircraft from the sand maintenance personnel had missed when they vacuumed the fuselage.

Twenty years later, after arriving home from a Northwest Airlines trip, I wandered out to the vineyard at the Airpark to greet an older gentleman who was visiting.

I introduced myself.

He furrowed his brow and said, "I flew with a guy named Lorenzo once. DC-8 flight testing in Miami."

You can't make this stuff up.