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Witness to an airplane crash

The BT squatted in a three-point landing about 500 ft. from the end of the runway. As it rolled it seemed to be doing that walk to the left that every taildragger pilot has experienced in a crosswind. At about the 1000-foot marker the left wheel eased off the side of the runway. My mind perked up. “This is going to be interesting,” I said to myself.

One last visit to a dying airport

This airport had been my heart and soul from my late teens for more than several years. I could hear WNEW dribbling out of the crappy radio on the counter, the Coke machine whining, smell the vague noxiousness of the heat from the propane heater. I could see the men that would never be forgotten to me, the instructors that would guide me and help me to get my licenses. 

A pilot struggles with bladder control

Cecil was checking with the pilots to see if they needed anything. As he did several times a summer, he stuck his head in my Cub and asked, “Do you have a bottle to pee in?” Everyone but me carried a bottle. I guess it was a young guy thing. He liked to kid me about it. “Nah, I can hold it.”

It just wasn’t my turn

The flight was good, although I did notice a little burble in my seat when I put in up elevator, something loose I guessed, a fairing or something. I wished I had looked the airplane over in Cape May, but I was 20 years old and everything was full-throttle all of the time. Hell, it was flying. I forgot about it.