When I was a boy growing up in the 50s and early 60s some of my main heroes were the crop-dusters who flew the Stearman, Cubs, Super Cubs, and later, the Pawnee dusters. I grew up within sight of about a thousand acres of cotton fields on 12 or 15 different farms, so for about two months every summer, seeing them was a daily occurrence. It was a thrill to me for them to wave at me, and every now and then, one particular pilot would throttle back his 100 hp Lycoming on his J-3 Cub and holler something out the window at me from about 100 feet up. I wanted to be a crop-duster just slightly less than I wanted to be a professional baseball player.
Later, in my early twenties, I briefly owned a couple of airplanes; a 1948 vintage Aeronca Chief, then a 1957 Super Cub Trainer. I guess I sort of got soured on it when a couple of acquaintances spun in from 200 feet in an Aeronca and were killed. I happened to be at the airport when they took off on the flight that proved fatal.
I still am an aviation enthusiast, I guess you could call it. Used to go to a lot of air shows, but not any more. Too old to fight the crowds.
