Perhaps I have watched “Top Gun: Maverick” too many times.

There is a scene where Tom Cruise, playing pilot Pete Mitchell, is yelling for Darkstar, his hypersonic aircraft, to hit Mach 10 as it soars across the sky.

“C’mon,” he says almost quietly as it stops at 9.9. And then a moment later shouts, “C’MON!”

The digital numbers click to 10.0. Victory!

I remain inspired. Yeah. I want to do something. I can’t pilot a super-duper jet, but I can ride a bike.

Coming down Sunnyside Road last week, I hit 38.6 mph. Not bad for someone who usually uses the brakes on steep downhills. Not bad at all.

The next day, I was back.

I decided to try and hit 40 mph. The speedometer raced higher - 37, 38, 39.

"C’MON!" I shouted as I glanced down. "C'MON!"

It hit 40, 41, 42, before topping out at 42.9.

Wow. Exhilarating.

That was the fastest I had ever gone on my bike. I was beaming as I cruised the final few miles home, feeling like I was in my own way, a version of Maverick, who wins the battle, saves the day and gets the girl.

In my world, I was daring, courageous, pushing myself beyond boundaries that confine mere mortals.

My confidence soared. Surely 50 mph was in reach. Yes, I wanted 50.

When I got home, I boasted to my wife of my breakthrough and my plans to go faster than ever before.

She was not impressed.

In fact, she was dismayed.

She seemed to think I was both reckless and foolish.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” she asked.

Our daughter, Jennie, a cyclist and runner, sided with her mom.

“Dad that is dangerous!!!” she wrote in a text.

Traitor.

“Please talk some sense into this man!” my wife pleaded.

To calm my wife’s worries, I asked my friend, Bill Travis, a veteran cyclist who has done many Ironmans and trains often on local hills, how fast he usually went down Sunnyside Road.

His answer: In training, 30s. In a race, 40s.

He said there is a chance of an animal — dog, turkey, deer — running out in front of you and at more than 40 mph, there’s no time to stop. Travis said that in a race, sure, it’s OK to let it rip if you’re comfortable with it. In training, it’s not worth the risk. If you crash at that speed, you’ll likely be seriously hurt, even killed.

Solid advice.

Ironically, the day after Bill and I talked, the back tire on my bike blew out while I was on a slow, easy ride just a few miles from home on the North Idaho Centennial Trail.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Good thing it happened then, and not when I was shooting down Sunnyside. That would have been bad.

No worries. I’ll be sure to buy good tires from my friend Mike Gaertner at Vertical Earth.

You see, I'm a slow learner, stubborn in all the wrong ways, and 50 mph calls. It's out there, waiting for me.

Like Maverick said in the original "Top Gun," “I feel the need ... the need for speed.”

My wife says she feels the need to hit me over the head with a frying pan.

Bill Buley is assistant managing editor for The Press.