You know what? Some airplanes feel like pets. The F-106 Delta Dart felt like a guard dog. Loyal. Loud. A little wild if you weren’t careful.
I got my back-seat time in a two-seat F-106B with an Air Guard crew out near Great Falls, Montana. Cold air. Big sky. Long runways. We ran a training day that turned into a night. I still hear that engine in my bones.
If you want an even deeper dive into the minute-by-minute sensations of riding the Delta Dart, my extended sortie notes are collected in this full F-106 ride report.
Why I wanted this ride
I grew up on stories of fast jets. The 106 was “the Dart,” the interceptor that went high and straight to meet bogeys. I wanted to see if the legend matched the vibe. Was it smooth? Was it scary? Could an old Cold War jet still feel sharp?
Short answer: Yes. And also, it bit if you got lazy.
If you want to dig into detailed specs and operational history, Air-attack.com hosts an excellent dossier on the Delta Dart and its contemporaries.
First start, first smell
The start was pure theater. The Pratt & Whitney J75 lit with a deep whoomp, then a steady rumble. JP-4 fumes seeped in. My visor fogged for a second. I remember tapping the mask, like that would help. Little habits stick.
Taxi felt heavy. Nosewheel steering was firm, not twitchy. The brakes smelled hot by the third turn. The pilot gave me the “gentle hands” look. Not my first back seat, but this was no trainer.
Takeoff: the punch and the float
We lined up. Afterburner kicked. The push was clean and hard. Not a slap—more like someone leaned on your chest and did not stop. The delta wing gave lift quick, but it also made the jet feel… floaty. Light in pitch, then solid. The climb rate made the town look like a model set.
Did it scare me? A little. I smiled anyway.
The radar that talks back
We worked the MA-1 fire-control system—old tech with smart manners. The scope stared like a green eye. It liked to tell you what to do, and you either listened or you fought it. We practiced a “stern” intercept on a tanker that played target. GCI calls in the headset, short and crisp. I love that rhythm: vector, angels, speed, lock.
And yes, the weapons bay door test made a thunk you feel in your seat. No, we didn’t shoot anything. The 106 carried Falcons and even that odd Genie rocket back in the day. Wild times.
Fast flight vs slow flight
Fast: The jet liked it. Mach numbers crept up with almost no drama. The Dart tracked like a yard stick. Tiny inputs. No wobble. The canopy hissed. The world went quiet and thin.
Slow: Different dance. High nose. Careful hands. The delta wing didn’t stall like a simple wing. It mushed and warned you. Add a bit of power; hold the line. Not hard—just honest.
The only other time I felt that same blend of precision and pure spectacle was during a hop with the Blues—my candid notes on that ride are right here.
I messed up a trim change once and got a sharp nudge from the pilot. Good call. The 106 was fair, but not patient.
The landing and the laundry
We came home at dusk. The runway lights looked like beads. Flare felt longer than I expected. Then the drag chute popped, and the jet sat down like it had manners. We rolled past the snow berms. The chute sagged and skittered off to the side. It always makes me grin. It’s like the jet takes a bow.
Little truths I remember
- The alert shack coffee was bad, but those pancakes? Perfect. We ate fast because the horn could sound.
- The helmet left a red mark on my forehead. Stayed there half the night.
- I could hear the airframe tick as it cooled on the ramp. Like a steel campfire.
- Someone told the “Cornfield Bomber” story again—the 106 that landed itself in a field after the pilot punched out. You can’t make that up. The crew laughed like it happened yesterday.
What I loved
- Speed without fuss. It went fast and didn’t brag.
- Stable radar work. The MA-1 had a bossy charm; it kept us honest.
- That delta wing. Great at high altitude. Smooth like a skater on clean ice.
- The drag chute. Silly, but it makes every landing feel special.
What bugged me
- The cockpit ran cold up high, then weirdly warm after a descent. Layers matter.
- The brake smell on taxi got old fast.
- Slow-speed work needed care. Not hard, but you stayed awake.
- The radios—loud, then quiet, then loud again. Old wiring does that.
How it stacks up
Modern jets feel lighter on the stick and friendlier on the brain. The F-16, for example, is like a smart phone. The F-106 is a steel watch with one job: get up, find the target, finish the job. That focus shows. No extras. No fluff. I’ve also logged time in a handful of other fighters, and I ranked their raw agility in this side-by-side comparison.
And you know what? That makes it kind of romantic. It’s a tool, but it has a soul.
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While hopping cross-country for air-shows or quick Guard drills, I’ve laid over in plenty of “fly-over” towns where the crew still wants a little off-duty social life. If your next overnight happens to be in northwest Indiana, browse the local listings at Backpage Hammond to zero-in on live music spots, last-minute meet-ups, and other low-key ways to make the most of your layover without wasting time on endless searches.
If you’re curious now
- Go see one at a museum. Stand under that big delta wing. It’s a shark fin in metal.
- Try a decent sim model if you can find one. Practice the intercept pattern. Keep your scan wide.
- Read up on the old Guard units. The stories add weight to the shape.
Final take
The F-106 Delta Dart is simple in purpose and sharp in feel. It rewards smooth hands and a calm voice. It can be sweet. It can be stern. It never fakes it.
Would I go again? In a heartbeat. I still hear that whoomp of burner and feel the jet lift, light and sure, into the big, cold sky.