This guy buys a B52 bomber from a bloke in an alleyway behind a pub in a town with a bad reputation that had never one bloom of the year, ever. He parks it in the desert, near the sea, by the mountains. He had dreams of flying around the world for his retirement; adding a refueller to his collection of aircraft and crewing it with blonde Swedish, Danish or Nicaraguan bimbos (with aeronautical training).
After nine months of planning, scheming and note-taking he found that the giant ex-US air force bomber had been jacked up and its engines stolen.
He sliced off the wings and made the big bird into a boat with wheels and towed it round the desert with a specially modified Volkswagen camper van.
Was he mad? Yes. But he was happy, he was, he was happy; as can be.
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