Years later, when I had learned to fly a little on my own, I went to Shelter Island on occasion with a 1981 Cessna 182 Skylane, N9130H. More powerful and a little heavier than the Cardinal, it was the landing that sometimes crossed me up. Early morning summer arrivals were a challenge for two reasons: wind and wet.
I was doing my routine engine checks (EGT, oil pressure, oil temperature, RPM, manifold pressure), as we made that transition. I was also explaining to Linda about the weird phenomenon of “auto-rough,” commenting on what a strange psychological thing it was. Sure enough, just as we crossed the shoreline at 10,000 ft., I felt 30H shudder ever so slightly. It had to be my imagination.
Linda and I were on a “ramble” that summer, in Casper, our 1967 M20E Mooney. We meandered from home in the Kingdom (northeastern-most Vermont) down the eastern seaboard to Tennessee to visit her sister and my brother-in-law. Finally, we had to leave Tennessee, as our ultimate destination that summer was Wyoming. Dubois, Wyoming (DUB), to be precise.