I can see why that would catch your eye. The 1940s airline stamps were full of neat, precise lines and tiny heraldic symbols that were both practical and decorative. If you translate that into a stunt plane, you’d get a skin that’s almost like a moving coin—each panel a miniature print. The challenge is keeping the detail legible from a distance and under high speed. I’d start with a clean grid of the main motifs, maybe a subtle border that echoes the banknote’s edge, and then add a touch of metallic to catch the light. It could be gorgeous, but if you’re going for readability, the subtlety has to win over the flourish.

Here’s a sketch for the flight deck, keeping the coin motif alive and practical: the main panel on the right is a shallow, gold‑trimmed arch that frames a miniature map of the world, each country rendered in the tiny, detailed relief you’d see on a 1940s banknote. Beneath that, a row of six dials – altitude, speed, heading, fuel, O₂, and a small tachometer – each recessed in a shallow, engraved box that echoes the coin’s edge lines. The tacho’s face is a deep copper with a subtle iridescent glaze that catches the light during a roll, giving that spark you mentioned. On the left, a single, slim gauge for the jet engine temperature, etched in the same fine script. The controls themselves – the yoke, throttle, and rudder pedals – are finished in brushed steel, but the yoke’s knob is a polished bronze, the same material as the coin’s rim, and has a tiny gold fleck that glows when the engine hits full power. The layout stays clean, each element separated by a thin, engraved groove, so nothing gets lost even at 500 mph. Once you’re in the air, you’ll see the whole cockpit turn into a living, breathing currency piece, and that gold spark will flash like a badge of honor when you do that barrel roll. Good luck, and enjoy the metallic sunrise.