There are some itches that just have to be scratched.
We know this from staying in third world hotels and watching baseball. Aside from those annoying skin irritations, there are itches that go deep and result in either eventual treatment (thankfully without penicillin or rabies shots) or the pain of unrequited love ...
Piper Cubs are an itch like that.
After almost five years, with other airplanes in between, I'm back in a Cub. This time, in company with the best company a man could have, my son, John.
We made our first formation flight last week from Leesburg FL to Zephyrhills, where my airplane will undergo some beauty treatments before heading for the mountains and the Western North Carolina Air Museum. The air was clear and cool and smooth, the world laid out before us. He was rock-steady, holding heading and altitude perfectly. I was all over the place. His landings were better, too. I can't stand it.
For now, Max (my wife likes to name airplanes – this one is Max Baer) is in his hangar at Zephyrhills awaiting the expert hands of my friend and ace steel-tube, dope and fabric guru to work his magic.
Max, the bear.
