Bye likes the L-39; he leased one as a chase plane for the Javelin’s test flights. But to own one, he says, means “buying military surplus built in Soviet-era Czechoslovakia. How many people would go to the Czech Republic or Russia and buy a 25-year-old car?” ATG’s leased L-39 shares a hangar with the prototype Javelin, and taking them in side by side settles a crucial question. The Javelin: willowy, flowing lines. L-39: big-boned and Slavic. No contest in the looks department.

Unlike any used military trainer in the world, the Javelin will have first-class seats. The design is being finalized, but here’s what Charlie Johnson, ATG’s president, told me: “A world-class interior; noise levels very low; high visibility, accessibility and ergonomics. It will have all the functionality of a military trainer, with all the luxurious appointments of a Cadillac.” The instrumentation will be state-of-the-art: twin flat-panel displays with the latest traffic-warning and collision-avoidance systems. And the view through the canopy, of course, will be panoramic. “The best window seats in the world,” said Rob Fuschino, ATG’s VP of operations and chief test pilot.

He should know: Fuschino is one of only two guys who’s actually flown a Javelin. “Easy,” was his verdict. “You can climb very rapidly, you can accelerate very rapidly. It’s very forgiving.” Forgiving, but also, he reminded me, capable of pulling six g’s.

The Javelin is not for novice pilots. Qualifying to fly one means having 1,500 hours of flight time, including 250 hours of “turbine time,” or flight hours in a jet. Clients are also enrolled in ATG’s Javelin training program. Included will be simulator hours, flight time with an instructor, a mentoring program with experienced Javelin pilots and physiological training to learn how to pull g’s.

I logged some time in the simulator myself, and can confirm ease of flight. This novice pilot lifted off, executed some pretty wicked rolls and loops, flew inverted and even landed twice in a row. Or almost. I undershot my first landing by a few hundred yards, and bounced spectacularly off the tarmac on attempt two. “You probably damaged your jet a little,” deadpanned Sara Newton, ATG’s communications manager, before prying me away for lunch.

The Javelin simulator is probably the greatest video game on the planet--and not surprisingly, it’s ATG’s most persuasive sales tool. Take a spin over the virtual Rocky Mountains for an hour or so and you’ll emerge from the cockpit feeling like Tom Cruise and reaching for your checkbook. A (mere) nonrefundable deposit of $100,000 holds your position behind 103 others for Javelin delivery by late 2009. Tell yourself it’s a practical purchase. You’ll triangulate same-day business meetings in Denver, Los Angeles and Seattle at Mach 0.9. You’ll make Friday happy hour in Antigua. Or just tell yourself that you’ll look really, really cool taxiing down the runway at Teterboro, turning every Gulfstream, Cessna and Lear you pass into a minivan.

Original Article