SuperCub MD
Registered User
Collins, Wisconsin
As the sun sets on the shortest day of the year, a fresh coat of dope is drying in the shop, and I procrastinate cleaning a pile of birds from a successful hunt, I have time to work on my typing skills. This is one that came from one of those grizzly old Cub pilots, slightly embelished.
A Super Cub pilot pulled his mud and bug spattered Cub up to a fancy FBO. The local plane polishing crowd began looking over this strange, large tired, and somewhat smelly manifestation with much curiosity. The Super Cub pilot, feeling much out of his element, and trying hard to fit in with this crowd, began discussing IFR flying. After much debate as to things like turbulance, and just how many inches of ice a Cub can carry, some of the plane polishers began sticking their heads in the door of the Super Cub to look at the panel, the way all pilots seem to do. (They held their breath do to the smell, and were careful not to touch tire or struts lest they get mud on their golf pants). They noticed only a compass and a few gauges, which looked only questionably operational. They then inquired of the Super Cub pilot just what devises he used to fly IFR. They had expectations this mountain man may use some form of celestrial navigation, or possibly some strange, freakish sixth sence, that was possibly the product of a few generations of backwoods inbreeding, to keep himself right side up in the clouds. The Super Cub pilot told them it was quite simple. Whenever the weather looked bad he would always take along a bottle of wiskey and a live goose. He would fly above the murk on a general heading towards his destination. When enough time had elapsed that he should be at his destination, he would look down. If he could not see the ground, he would set up a slow turn around the area and open the bottle of wiskey. He would stay in the turn till the wiskey ran out, the gas ran out, or both, waiting for the weather to clear. If the weather didn't clear, and the wiskey or gas was gone, he would set up a descent into the murk, grab the goose, and hold it out the door. He would fly, watching the goose, matching the movements of it's wings with the Cub's. This would get him safely through the layer of murk, into the clear. But, the plane polishers asked, "What if the murk goes right down to the deck?" The Super Cub pilot smiled, and said, "If the goose flairs, I flair".
Merry Xmas, and enjoy the Solstice. Remember that from here on out we will have more Cub flying daylight every day, get out and enjoy it. (At least those of us in the Northern Hemisphere).
A Super Cub pilot pulled his mud and bug spattered Cub up to a fancy FBO. The local plane polishing crowd began looking over this strange, large tired, and somewhat smelly manifestation with much curiosity. The Super Cub pilot, feeling much out of his element, and trying hard to fit in with this crowd, began discussing IFR flying. After much debate as to things like turbulance, and just how many inches of ice a Cub can carry, some of the plane polishers began sticking their heads in the door of the Super Cub to look at the panel, the way all pilots seem to do. (They held their breath do to the smell, and were careful not to touch tire or struts lest they get mud on their golf pants). They noticed only a compass and a few gauges, which looked only questionably operational. They then inquired of the Super Cub pilot just what devises he used to fly IFR. They had expectations this mountain man may use some form of celestrial navigation, or possibly some strange, freakish sixth sence, that was possibly the product of a few generations of backwoods inbreeding, to keep himself right side up in the clouds. The Super Cub pilot told them it was quite simple. Whenever the weather looked bad he would always take along a bottle of wiskey and a live goose. He would fly above the murk on a general heading towards his destination. When enough time had elapsed that he should be at his destination, he would look down. If he could not see the ground, he would set up a slow turn around the area and open the bottle of wiskey. He would stay in the turn till the wiskey ran out, the gas ran out, or both, waiting for the weather to clear. If the weather didn't clear, and the wiskey or gas was gone, he would set up a descent into the murk, grab the goose, and hold it out the door. He would fly, watching the goose, matching the movements of it's wings with the Cub's. This would get him safely through the layer of murk, into the clear. But, the plane polishers asked, "What if the murk goes right down to the deck?" The Super Cub pilot smiled, and said, "If the goose flairs, I flair".
Merry Xmas, and enjoy the Solstice. Remember that from here on out we will have more Cub flying daylight every day, get out and enjoy it. (At least those of us in the Northern Hemisphere).
