Me, Myself, and the Champ

Airplane chocks - check. Two primes - check. Switch to "Left Magneto" - check.

With a flip of the prop, the little 65 h.p. engine springs to life and causually idles along until more is asked of it. I climb in, buckle the seat belt (which is just as simple as the aircraft itself), and check the engine instruments. Everything looks perfect.

Stick back and a little throttle to get out of the grass. I taxi the little Champ out to the runway and do the necessary traffic checks, then proceed to back-taxi.

A quick run up and control check, and things are ready. No, this is no twin-engine super-powerful complex aircraft -- this is the Aeronca Champ, and it doesn't seek to waste your time on the ground. Only a few simple checks here!

I carefully position the Champ on the centerline of runway 17 at Independence, and advance the throttle while applying forward pressure on the stick. 40 mph... 50 mph... we're off! No, the world is not racing by as we slowly ascend, but why should it? We race our entire lives - nothing wrong with a little slow-pokin'.

I point the Champ southeast and decide to follow the river. Altitude is around 2,000 MSL (about 1,000 AGL) and it's a perfect day for a ride. I follow the river long enough to catch a glimpse of some birds, a few deer, and a worn out barn. I circle the Champ back towards Winthrop, where we watch football practice at East Buchanan.

The sun is beginning to set, and it's time to point this little airplane home. At 80mph, even a short trip is not really all that short, but it is enjoyable, and for some reason, speed is not a concern of mine tonight.

Approaching the airport and runway 17, I slow the Champ down to around 65-70 mph and line myself up with the runway. A wheel landing is in order this evening. I slowly allow the airplane to descend until both main wheels gladly accept the pavement and we're rolling - straight, even! With forward stick pressure, I hold the tail in the air as long as possible and finally the tail meets the pavement and we're officially "down".

Taxi off the runway and to the fuel pumps. 3.6 gallons of gas for a little over an hour of flying. With the smile on my face and the fun I had, it could have been 36.0 gallons and I wouldn't have cared.

This ... this ... is what flying is all about. Thanks to Amber Ling for the photos! This was her first time in a Champ as well - I think she is sold on the idea.