“Good eye. Uneven wear means alignment problems. Cracks mean the tire could blow on landing.”
He stood and offered me his hand. “Last thing is cable tension. Put your hand here on this control cable and pluck it like a guitar string.”
I plucked at the cable and it made a soft twanging sound. “It’s tight.”
“Perfect. That’s just how we want it. These cables connect your controls to the flying surfaces.”
“So if this cable snapped...”
“We’d lose control of that particular surface. Not something you want to discover at three-thousand feet. But these look good.”
We spent the next few minutes checking wing fabric, cockpit instruments, and verifying entries in the logbook. Every item Finn showed me had a reason, a potential failure mode that could turn dangerous if missed. His knowledge and attention to detail was impressive.
“Satisfied with the inspection?” he asked, retrieving two headsets.
“As satisfied as someone who just learned five ways this plane could kill us can be.”
Finn grinned. “That’s exactly the right attitude for aviation.”
Maggie trotted back into the hangar, settled herself in a sunny spot near the door, and looked at us expectantly. Apparently, she was planning to supervise this entire operation.
“Ready to learn how to fly?” He handed me a headset.
“Ready.”
Chapter 32
She’s responsive
Finn
“Now let’s get you strapped in,” I opened the front cockpit door and gestured to the seat. Alex climbed up carefully and settled in. I checked her harness—shoulder straps snug, lap belt secure, everything positioned properly.
“Comfortable?” I asked, making minor adjustments to the seat position.
“Yeah, actually,” she flexed her feet, testing the rudder pedals. “More room than I expected.”
I climbed into the rear seat, running through my own harness check before reaching forward to point out the primary controls. “Stick controls your elevator and ailerons—push forward, nose goes down, pull back, nose comes up. Left and right banks the wings. Rudder pedals control the rudder and steer the tailwheel on the ground.”
Alex nodded, hands resting lightly on the stick. “And the throttle?”
“Left side of the cockpit, that black knob,” I gestured to the power control. “Forward is more power, back is less. Simple as that.”
She wrapped her fingers around it, testing the movement. “How much pressure?”
“Light touch. She’s responsive. Doesn’t take much input to get a reaction.” I checked her position again, making sure she could reach everything comfortably. “Ready to start her up?”
“Ready.”
I primed the engine and called, “clear prop!” before hitting thestarter. The Continental A-65 turned over twice before catching with a distinctive rumble that had been the soundtrack to some of my best memories. The whole aircraft vibrated gently around us, familiar and alive.
“How’s that feel?” I asked through the intercom.
“Like sitting inside a very friendly earthquake,” Alex’s voice came through the headset with a smile in it.
I laughed, adjusting the mixture and checking engine parameters. Everything looked good—oil pressure solid, RPMs steady. “All right, let’s taxi. Remember, steering’s all rudder pedals now. Give me some right rudder to get us moving.”
Alex pressed the right pedal and we swung toward the grass runway with too much input at first—the Cub’s tailwheel configuration making us zigzag slightly.
