Emissions, anyone?
I was based at Miami International Airport around 1980, when you still had old jets operating cargo flights.
I often could get a ringside seat for the takeoff of one of those old things as it was cleared for takeoff. First came an earsplitting racket and then vast clouds of jet-black smoke as this dinosaur slowly gathered speed down the 10 thousand-foot runway.
From not very far along all there was to see was this extending cloud of inky smoke that just went and went until finally you were thinking, "It's the Big One! Hit the Crash Alarm!" but then a tiny white speck would appear at the head of the black cloud, making its shallow climb-out over Biscayne Bay.
It was a good show and a very good introduction to the concept of V1, Vr, V2 when all I had known was small airplanes except for doing the ATP theoretical test. "Ah, so this is what they meant!" was all I could think as I saw that this smoky old thing must have used about 9 thousand 9 hundred feet of concrete to get airborne there. Wanna bet those guys are really, really focused as they pass V1, waiting for Vr and/or the end of the pavement to show up?
This is not something you want to "try at home." I think it is best left to the professionals, not to rich amateurs in costume. Let this admittedly beautiful old 707 lose one just at V1 and we might well be reading about JT in all the papers. Anyone else here know the story of Arthur Wolk and his beautifully restored jet? The Atlas Cargo head man and his L39?
If I seem a bit negative about well-heeled amateurs, well... I once invested about a thousand bucks in a check-out with one of those German wheeler-dealer types, hoping to hook up with him and get a job flying in Germany instead of West Africa. I did a Twotter check-out, when it was fairly clear to me that his mind was not focused 100% on the business of flying but more on the flying business. About a month later a dinky little King Air 90 killed him daid after he had rushed through his checks, lifted off into the dark sky and then followed his senses and the unstabilised AI to his death, going into a shallow descent right after lift-off and then hitting a tree to end up in a big pile of crap in a potato field. Too bad for him of course but I was also mildly peed-off that now he was no use to me as a contact unless I wanted to use Madame Zora and her Ouija Board.