Cub Love Affair

How many of you made model airplanes as a kid, hanging them from the ceiling with thread and watching them gather dust? For me, it was the beginning of a love affair—nearly 70 years of love. Did I go on to a PPL at 16, build a plane from scratch, or fly coast to coast? No. I settled for loving planes from afar, as many of us might love a movie star we’d never met. More on that analogy later, Mr. Piper.

Am I a pilot now? Not unless 10 hours of dual in a 152 counts as being a pilot. It doesn’t? How about adding 2,000 hours of flight simulator? Still “no,” right?

So life goes on, but planes are always there, and I love them. Through a combination of finding the right people or shelling out some cash, I’ve had some great rides, including aerobatics in a Pitts Special, the nose of a B-17, the front seat of a T-6 Texan, an elderly Beaver on floats, even a glider, to say nothing of an eclectic collection of planes on the ground. But that’s another story.

Remember when I mentioned loving a movie star I’d never met? Well, my fantasy love interest was and is Mr. Piper’s beautiful, graceful and talented… J-3 Cub. For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the Cub from afar. Why? Got me! The Cub is metal tubes and fabric, tiny and with no amenities. My 36-hp 1960 VW Beetle could easily outrun an airborne 65-hp Cub. But I love it.

A few years ago, I tried tracking down Cubs in my area of south/southwest Wisconsin, hoping to find a Cub owner who would let me look at, and maybe touch, a Cub. I searched FAA records and found few possibilities. I called small airports, joined the Piper J-3 Cub Facebook group—a really good group—and tried contacting Cubbers in Wisconsin and northern Illinois. Some replied, but most didn’t.

One was passing through after purchasing a Cub and graciously offered to meet me at his friend’s grass strip, but COVID got in the way. Patience paid off, and when I contacted a Cub owner about half an hour’s drive away (45 minutes by Cub), he enthusiastically offered to let me stop by for a Cub experience.

Trever Otto is an airline pilot with a Cub and a Maule, and his own grass strip! Sure, he has a great wife and great kids, but he has his own grass strip right next to his house, next to his hangar—a dream come true for many of us!

I prepared by putting in hours of flight simulation in a Cub to make sure I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. I don’t know if I succeeded. Trever? Flight simulation is another story for another day.

So I get there in early evening in September and get to see and touch a real J-3 Cub. Wow! Pinch me, I must be dreaming. Christen, Trever’s wife, was prepared, capturing everything in photos and earning my gratitude. Trever said it’s a bit windy, but if I’m okay with a bumpy ride, we can take the Cub up.

How does one get into a Cub? I’m on the big side, but not THAT big—5’11” and about 200 pounds. The rear seat is reasonably wide and the headroom isn’t bad, but getting in means maneuvering around the front seat. It looks impossible, but somehow I got in butt first and lifted my left leg over the front seat, which was much harder than it sounds. I pulled my right leg in around the front seat, but where can I put my feet? My knees? The front seat is about 4 1/2 inches from my nose. Not really, but close.

My feet need to go on either side of the front seat, and there is about 3 inches between the front seat and the side of the fuselage. No hyperbole this time. Don’t ever wear big shoes if you’re riding in the back of a Cub. I was a bit embarrassed by my awkward entry, but Trever assured me I did fine—for an inflexible 74-year-old.

A J-3 has no electrical system, so there’s no starter. A Cub is started by hand-turning the prop, and as soon as the engine starts, the pilot needs to quickly climb into the plane. Keep in mind that the front seat is only slightly more inviting than the back seat. Trever’s not as big as I am, but neither is he tiny, and he handled his entry with appropriate grace. I think.

So now we’re off, taxiing to the end of his runway. By the way, the Cub is a tailwheel plane, so forward visibility on the ground is minimal. We make a left turn onto Runway 27, and 900 feet of grass doesn’t look very long, but in the hands of a true professional, the Cub made it look like O’Hare.

We tooled around the area with the door and window open and my knee sticking out. Trever told me I had the plane, and I felt like a real-life pilot. The back seat has a stick, throttle and pedals, though I couldn’t get near the pedals with my big shoes. With someone in the front seat, the rear-seat pilot—ME—can see none of the Cub’s very basic instruments.

Me: “How do I know if I’m in level flight?”

Trever: “Look at your wingtips. If they’re parallel with the horizon, you’re good.”

We tooled around farm country and made a brief stop at another grass strip before heading home, where Trever had to buzz the strip to move some grazing deer.

Christen made a truly amazing video, starting with base and turning left onto 9, with a red sunset behind us. As we rolled past her, she caught a grinning idiot waving from the back seat. I show that video over and over and over. Priceless.

That hour or so was one of the, or probably THE, best times of this septuagenarian’s life. Some of you are thinking, better than… first time of… you know what? Draw your own conclusions from your own past, but this was very, very special.

Now that I’ve met my movie star, I’m still in love!

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Jeff Drews

Raised in the Northeast, Jeff moved to the Midwest after college, quickly embracing its easygoing, affable lifestyle. By modern standards, he was a late start in aviation—taking his first flight at 18 and beginning lessons soon after college. After just 10 hours, however, he made the practical decision to redirect those funds toward a girlfriend—a choice that paid off with three children and many grandchildren.

Jeff’s passion for aviation never faded. He has toured aviation museums from coast to coast and flown in a wide variety of aircraft. Now retired from a career in the insurance business, he spends hours each day flying in a simulator and still takes every opportunity he can to get into the air for real.

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• Cub Love Affair - September 2, 2026