The other day I mentioned climbing into the back seat of a J3 Cub for my first flight lesson. Yesterday for the first time in over 45 years I found myself in a J3. This time it was the front seat and it was much harder to find a way to get in than I remember but once in the memories of those first flights came flooding back. The pilot-owner of this J3 looked the part, jeans held up by braces, a long bill give-me cap and just old enough that you could believe he had flown the airplane when it was new. We flew from McMinnville up to the Flying M ranch in the coast range foothills, stopped for a glass of tea and airplane talk, and then flew back to KMMV. What a day, it reminded me why I started along the road chosen so many years ago. Good people, grass landing strips, flying low and very slow, one of the best airport bum days I’ve ever had.
After our return to KMMV Bryan and I walked over to my hangar so he could sit in a LearJet for the first time. The symbolism was not lost on me, a day spent with the two most iconic airplanes of the first century of flight. You could not plan it better.