“Lighter pressure,” I said. “Like you’re guiding her, not forcing her.”
“Like this?” She made a gentler correction, the plane tracking straighter.
“Perfect. Now we’ll do some S-turns so you can see around the nose.” I talked her through the pattern, left rudder, right rudder, keeping us moving down the centerline while giving her visibility ahead. She picked up the rhythm quickly, cataloging every input and response.
“Why can’t I see straight ahead?” she asked, executing a smooth S-turn.
“High nose attitude in a taildragger. That’s why we weave—gives you visibility around the cowling.” I was already impressed with how naturally she was handling the aircraft. “Ready for takeoff?”
“How much runway do we need?”
“She’ll be off the ground in about three hundred feet. We’ve got a thousand,” I advanced the throttle partway. “Your aircraft. Add power nice and smooth.”
Alex pushed the throttle forward, the engine note rising. The Cub started rolling faster, eager to fly.
“Bit more back pressure on the stick,” I said as we picked up speed. “Feel how she wants to lift off?”
“Oh!” Alex pulled back slightly and the nose came up. “How much more?”
“Just enough to keep her level. You’ll feel it when she’s ready.” The aircraft was accelerating beautifully, control surfaces coming alive in the airstream. “Little more—there you go.”
The moment happened the way it always did in the Cub—no dramatic liftoff, just a gentle transition from rolling to flying, the rumble of wheels on grass replaced by the smooth hum of flight. Alex’s sharp intake of breath came through the intercom.
“We’re flying,” wonder filled her voice.
“We’re flying,” I couldn’t keep the grin out of my own voice. “Climb straight ahead, maintain back pressure. See how the horizon looks through the windscreen?”
“Level with the bottom of the frame?”
“Exactly. That’s your attitude reference for level flight,” I watched her make small corrections, learning to feel the Cub’s responses. “Now let’s try a gentle turn. Stick to the right, little bit of right rudder to coordinate.”
Alex banked carefully, the ground sliding away beneath us. “More rudder?”
“Exactly. Feel how smooth that is when everything’s coordinated?” We carved a gentle arc over the ranch property, climbing gradually. “You’re doing great.”
She was. Better than great—she was flying the airplane instead of fighting it, reading its feedback and responding appropriately. Natural ability combined with her beautifully complex mind made her exactly the kind of student every instructor hoped for.
“Try the other direction,” I said. “Left turn this time.”
Alex reversed the controls, banking left in a smooth coordinated turn. Below us, the ranch spread out in summer greens and browns, fence lines and pastures arranged in familiar patterns I’d grown upwith. But seeing it from the air again—seeing it from the cockpit of this plane with her—hit me in a way I hadn’t expected.
The lodge where we were staying, the main house a little ways away, Maggie probably still supervising from her spot by the hangar. The cattle Luke kept track of scattered across distant pastures, the fields my folks managed, the small family cemetery where my grandfather was buried. All of it spread out below us like a living map of everything that mattered.
I’d forgotten how right this felt—not just flying but showing someone what I’d been shown. Sharing this particular magic.
“Finn?” Alex’s voice brought me back. “How am I doing?”
“You’re doing incredible, darlin’.” And she was. Relaxed on the controls, making smooth inputs, completely absorbed in the task. “Want to try some straight and level flight?”
“Yeah.”
“Make sure the horizon stays in the same place relative to the windscreen,” I reminded her. “Use tiny corrections—she’s sensitive.” I watched her settle into level flight, making tiny adjustments. “That’s it. Perfect.”
We flew over the old homestead cabin I’d seen from this same cockpit some twenty years ago. Over the creek where I’d learned to fish, the pasture where I’d fallen off my first horse. The mountains rising beyond the valley, the Tetons catching afternoon light on their peaks.
“This is incredible,” Alex’s voice was soft. “I can see why you loved it.”
Love it.Present tense. Because sitting in this cockpit, watching someone else discover the magic of flight, teaching her the same skills my granddaddy had taught me—I realized something I’d been too afraid to acknowledge.
