Well I didn't have any particular favorites until last night, when I did my first intercontinental flight to locate, land at, and plant a flag on the second space center. My pilot was Orble Kerman. I would have preferred to send the Big Three, but apparently Jeb was hosting poker night at his place, so those three were out. I was wary, Orble being a new pilot, but he distinguished himself marvelously when, at about 18,000 meters above the Great Western Desert, my plane suffered some random unplanned disassembly. In short, I don't know what happened, but half of my starboard wing, with one of my engines still attached, broke away from the plane, and took one of the parachutes vital to my ejection system off with it. Naturally this put me in a lateral spin, and I go through the "Oh $%!^ we're gonna crash" checklist to try and get back under control, killing the engines, waggling my control surfaces, toggling SAS, praying to the Deep Space Kraken to be merciful. And Lo and behold I look down, and there's Orble, calm as a summer day in the cockpit. Eventually I was able to get some semblance of control, and the KAF-ICR 1(Kerbal Air Force Inter-Continental Recon) looked like it was going to be able to complete its mission, until I misjudged the landing and bounced of the ridge ringing the target, knocking all my remaining engines off, which then caused me to have to crash land. Fortunately Orble escaped unharmed and is currently acting as our ambassador to the Koviet Union while we draw up plans for a vehicle to go get him.