Through the headset, I heard Elena’s quiet acknowledgment.
We ran through more scenarios—different headings, varying bank angles. Each turn smoother, more precise. Alex was getting better at anticipating—feeling what the airplane needed before I even said anything.
“You ready for slow flight?” I asked.
“What’s that involve?”
“Flyin’ right on the edge. Requires constant attention, fine adjustments.” I checked our position—plenty of space, clear skies. “Separates the good pilots from the great ones.”
“No pressure then,” Alex chuckled.
“You’ve got this, sweetheart. Reduce power. We’re gonna slow way down.”
Alex pulled the throttle back. The airspeed began dropping, the Cub’s nose coming up as we transitioned to slower flight.
“Notice how she feels heavier? Less responsive?”
“Yeah. Like everything’s delayed.”
“Yep. Now turn left, same coordination, but feel how different it is.”
She initiated the turn. The Cub wallowed slightly, needed more rudder input than usual before settling into the bank.
“At slow speed, you have to be more deliberate,” I explained. “Every input matters more. And if you let the airspeed get too low—”
The stall warning horn blared suddenly.
My pulse spiked—old instincts—even though we had plenty ofaltitude, even though this was completely intentional.
I took a steadying breath and then: “Recover.”
Alex didn’t hesitate—nose down, power in. Smooth and controlled, exactly like we’d practiced.
The horn cut off as our airspeed built back up.
Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by fierce pride.
“Perfect,” my voice came out rougher than intended. “Alex, that was textbook. No panic, no overcorrection. Just exactly right.”
“My heart’s racing,” she admitted.
“Mine too. But you handled it flawlessly. That’s the whole point. Knowin’ what to do when things get uncomfortable.”
Through the headset, I heard Elena: “Well done.”
Two words that hit me square in the chest and bloomed.
We flew for a few more minutes, Alex building her comfort with slow flight, learning the feel of operating near the edge. When I finally suggested heading back, she was reluctant.
“Already?”
“On a high note, darlin’. Trust me.”
She called our position, flew the pattern entry exactly right. On final approach, I leaned forward slightly.
“Lookin’ good. Airspeed’s perfect.” The runway grew larger ahead of us.“Power to idle... let her settle... hold it off...”
Alex held the flare beautifully, the Cub floating those last few feet before main wheels kissed the runway with barely a bump. The tailwheel settled a moment later, smooth like always.
