January 28, 1986.
Many of you don’t recall the significance of that day. I do. The images burned into my mind forever.
A scant 73 seconds after one of the most-watched launches in space shuttle history, Challenger exploded into that ‘Y’ image now a part of our space exploration legacy.
I was editor of The Dothan Progress at the time and was on my lunch break. A co-worker and I walked to a tiny restaurant/bar/pool hall close by to grab some of the best chilidogs anywhere.
Normal day. Sun was shining. Not particularly cold in Dothan.
Ordinary.
Two chilidogs, an order of crinkle fries and a tall glass of sweet iced tea.
We grabbed a table in the corner and situated ourselves so we could watch the shuttle launch on the TV high in the opposite corner of the room. The final countdown was on. Up to that point I never missed many launches if I had the chance to get in front of a television. My fascination with the space program went back to my youth.
Maybe a dozen other patrons watched. Most stopped eating for a moment. This was historic stuff. America was sending teacher Christa McAuliffe into space. Wow…wouldn’t she have some terrific stories to share with her students!
“3-2-1″ came the final count. The requisite close shot of the blast nozzles filled the screen as the rocket engines powered up. Ever so slowly Challenger rose off the platform.
I sipped my tea. Hadn’t taken a bite yet.
The seven-member crew gathered speed as the vehicle arced out over the Atlanta Ocean. All looked normal against the blue, cloudless sky.
Then there was that image. An obvious explosion. One smoke trail went north; one went south.
Every diner gasped. Then an uneasy murmur settled into the room. No one ate.
I’d never seen a shuttle launch with divided smoke trails. I hope I never see another.
I knew what had happened. So did NASA. So did everyone watching, whether they wanted to admit it or not.
Those chilidogs were as tasty as usual. I guess. I never took a bite.
