Some time back I wrote that an airplane restoration is like a love affair: Any fool can start one but to end it requires some considerable skill, not to mention a measure of regret.
One day, the CallAir Cadet is gone; Sold, but with silver linings around those clouds of uncertainty. The man who bought it for his family earned his private pilot certificate in an Interstate Cadet, the parent of the CallAir, in the 1950s; and not only his private, his commercial certificate as well. We had talked, off and on, for over two years. You get to know someone you've never met over that long a time. He is the right person, with the right family and the appreciation for a fine machine, to take her from me.
So yes, she's gone, but not forgotten and never will be. I don't think I've been as attached to a machine as I have been to this one. Perhaps it's because this airplane was a forgotten verse in the old song of classic aviation that I decided to bring back to original and then some. There are no regrets at having done that, no regrets about the time and money spent and certainly no regrets knowing that the right family will be taking care of her.
The first time I saw and heard her in the air was the last time: