November 2005- Let me say up front that this isn’t one of those broken-heart stories that country singers like to warble about. Nothing like that. The breakup between me and my J-3 Cub was amicable in almost every respect, with a few exceptions.
But first, you need to know about the Cub. This wasn’t your humble, garden variety, plain yellow J-3 Cub. It was a vain, short-winged, tail-wagging, attention-demanding little animal with chubby wheel pants, a hundred-horse Continental engine and a bright yellow interior to match its yellow-white-black sunburst paint scheme. Nothing humble about this Cub.