I feel the need... the need for speed.
You don't have time to think up there. If you think, you're dead.
On March 3, 1969 the United States Navy established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and to insure that the handful of men who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world. They succeeded. Today, the Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. The flyers call it: TOP GUN.
It's the bottom of the 9th, the score is tied. It's time for the big one.
He's too close for missiles. I'm switching to guns.
You can be my wingman any time.
And if you screw up just this much, you'll be flying a cargo plane full of rubber dog shit out of Hong Kong.
Up there with the best of the best.
That's classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.
I'd be happy to find a girl who'd talk dirty to me.
The plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies' room.
Hey, Goose, you big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever.
That son of a bitch cut me off!
Good morning, gentlemen, the temperature is 110 degrees.