It was late January 1962 and my sister Mary and I had been taking flying lessons for about a month, but I don't think either of us had soloed yet. The Ercoupe - loaned to us by an incredibly generous friend - had sat forlornly in the weeds for some time, so there were issues: little ones like nests of assorted critters and big ones like a nosewheel tire beyond repair and a leaky wing tank. In this classic Ohio Valley winter, ice and snow alternated with rain and freezing rain and the skies were a monotonous gray overcast. Even getting N341 to the gas pump was a challenge; whenever things began to thaw the sod became a quagmire of mud. But, hey, life was good;''weather" or not, we were learning to fly.
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