If you are fortunate enough to be assigned an altitude close to but not in the tops, you get access to that one time when cruise airspeeds can actually be experienced viscerally. Most of the time, even or especially in fast airplanes, the numbers on the instruments are abstractions. Sure, we’re doing 470 knots over the ground in a Lear 31 at FL 410, but it feels like we’re sitting still. But tearing along at 110 knots in a Beechcraft Musketeer some 40 years ago, watching the cloud dart beneath the wing, I first saw how really fast we were going. Today, in the Cheyenne that my wife and I own, the same sensation reminds me of my 14-year-old M3 BMW. Driving it in the mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont in the summer with the windows down and the volume up comes close to the same feeling of luck, excitement and the allure of all things powered by fossil fuels. Man, that feels good.