In the height of supersonic rivalry, the Grand Circumnavigation Race was announced. It pitted the two greatest achievements in aviation against each other: the elegant British-French Concorde, sleek and refined, and the powerful Soviet Tupolev Tu-144, broad-winged and unyielding.
Everyone in the West was certain Concorde would win. Newspapers proclaimed her the superior machine, more efficient in cruise, with advanced engines and graceful design. Pilots and experts toasted her superiority. “The Tu-144 is crude and overpowered,” they said. “It may boast raw speed, but it will break before the finish.”
The race circled the globe: from London to New York, across the Pacific to Tokyo, over Siberia to Moscow, south to Cape Town, across the Atlantic to Rio, and back to London. These supersonic giants needed no ordinary stops, pushing the limits of fuel and endurance at twice the speed of sound.
The starting signal echoed over Heathrow. Concorde surged ahead first, her droop nose rising confidently, afterburners glowing blue.
Moments later, the Tu-144 roared into the sky from a nearby airfield, her canard wings steady, engines thundering with raw power.
Over the Atlantic, Concorde pulled far in front. Her crew relaxed as she chased the sun westward. But then came fierce storms, with icing and turbulence that tested every system. Concorde’s refined airframe struggled; one engine faltered, forcing a careful slowdown and precious time lost while the crew managed the issue.
The Tu-144 pressed on relentlessly. Built tougher for harsh conditions, she shrugged off the ice and maintained speed, gaining ground as she crossed the Pacific ahead.
In Tokyo, Western observers grew anxious. Concorde closed the gap with flawless performance, and for a stretch over the north, the two flew close together. Pilots exchanged respectful waves across the divide.
Rivalry intensified with navigation challenges over vast deserts, where heat mirages and instrument glitches led Concorde off course for hours, chasing false readings.
The Tu-144 stayed true, her robust systems and determined pilots guiding her straight through, extending the lead.
Over Africa, severe headwinds and high-altitude strains pushed both to their limits. Concorde climbed elegantly but lost efficiency in the thin air. The Tu-144 powered upward with brute force, breaking through and holding her advantage.
As the English Channel appeared, Concorde mounted a final charge, closing fast in the dawn light. Crowds below watched breathless. But the Tu-144 had endured every trial, emerging stronger. With one last surge, she crossed the finish line first, landing in London amid stunned silence that erupted into applause.
The West had been so confident. Yet heart, toughness, and raw capability triumphed over refinement and expectation. From that day, aviators told the tale: sometimes the bold underdog, forged in challenge, flies farthest when the journey demands the most.
And on clear nights, witnesses swear they still see two silver shapes racing the skies, eternal rivals turned legends.
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 