Considering it is apparently a federal offense to tamper with aviation debris or accident scenes (assuming the plane looks intact) absolutely nothing, call local cops, they call AF.
Ha, I thought nobody would ask. It probably will be quite a disapointing story though, sorry.
Anyway, I was on holiday in Slovakia and basically, they just have old sovjet jets sitting around. We visited a very small “airport” (the runway was grass) used for skydiving. And they just had a MiG-21 sitting behind the building. No fence or anything. One of the Skydiving company staff said I can sit in it, if I want. So I did. He didn’t come with me or anything. It was also out if sight from anyone on the airfield.
Apperently this isn’t unusual at all and these planes are just sitting around in random fields as “decoration”.
Yeah, don’t do that. To be honest, I didn’t even close the canopea fully, I worried about not getting out. I sat on the wing for most of the lenght of the joint.
There was another plane, I think a MiG-15, that was literally just sitting in the middle of nowhere next to a hayball. We were just driving past it. I tried to find it on google maps, but it was many years ago and I just can’t remember the route … or any waypoint.
Since it tricked the pilot into ejecting, I assume it’s gone feral and is still buzzing around looking for a mate. If I didn’t have a big net to snag it in, I’d have to build a wooden decoy or perhaps just leave a paddling pool full of jet fuel out in a clearing. I’d keep my distance at first and try to gain it’s trust.
I discover the crashed F35 in my lone walk in the woods. As I start to take it apart for parts, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It’s her father’s business. She’s Lockheed. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning, the feds come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don’t trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he’s the chief of FBI. This is where the story gets interesting. I tell Lockheed to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She’s been waiting for me all these years. She’s never taken another lover. I don’t care, I don’t show up. I go to Berlin. That’s where I stashed the F35
If perfect: I’d totally try flying it. Probably crash, but it would be worth it to see how good all those flight sims where I’ve flown an F-35 stand up to reality.
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