Word: padding
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...Cape Canaveral, only 4½ hours after the Vandenberg shot at the other edge of the U.S., another Thor leaped from its pad carrying a nuclear warhead (minus fissionable material) and a triggering mechanism in its nose, scored an equally good...
...Army Jupiter with Little Old Reliable aboard got off its Cape Canaveral launching pad in a perfect takeoff. Atop the passenger's head was a tiny helmet with a microphone attached to record vocal sounds, and fitted into the little compartment were assorted instruments to measure heartbeat rate, blood pressure, body temperature, breathing rate. During the first few minutes of flight, while the missile was accelerating under the thrust of its engines, telemetering devices reported slowed-down and irregular breathing, slightly speeded-up heartbeat. Then, during about eight minutes of weightlessness while the missile was in ballistic flight, breathing...
...ocean range, safely sent ship-based Regulus missiles over the mountains 500 miles inland to impact at Dugway Proving Grounds, Utah. Now enlarging to handle bigger missiles-perhaps to test submarine-based Polaris as well as work on National Aeronautics and Space Administration experiments-the Navy has recently started pad construction on 20,000 acres at Point Arguello right next to Vandenberg...
...heavens over the Atlantic Ocean one night last week thundered a 100-ton symbol of U.S. scientific skill and diligence: the Air Force's Atlas intercontinental ballistic missile. Fully powered with close to 370,000 lbs. of thrust, the 80-ft. beast leaped from its Cape Canaveral pad, rocketed off the Florida coast into the starry night and arched serenely over the moon. The Cape's missile watchers held their breath as, in shucking its booster motors, the ICBM blazed like a meteor 200 miles from earth; then it faded and seemed to hang for a long time...
...Yeah, man, I know; the Buddha kick. I remember I was on it for two weeks when I saw the wild Frisco nights from my Chinatown pad. Man, that was some living; creeping through the back alleys at night, yogi parties, the red lights of the east end, the drowning sounds of Powell Street in the afternoon, and in the early evening as the sun set on the bay the soft odors of won-ton soup drifting up through the air vents. Crazy! But take my advice, and give up the Oriental bit, and go domestic. Contemplation, inward communion...