There’s a crosswind. A stiff one. Yuck. I sigh and do a conscious file-sort through the very dusty bins in the back of my brain. Let’s see. Slip to the left and land left-wheel first, being careful not to overreact on these super-light controls, be ready to add a little power if it bounces, and hope some level of intuitive feel for the touch-down attitude and position returns by the time we get close to the pavement. Right. I glance over at my dentist/friend Jeff Rose, whom I fear has taken temporary leave of his senses, letting me fly-and land–his beloved and brand-newly-restored Cessna 120.
“You ARE following through with me on this, right?” I say. It’s a statement, not a question.
