The accident sequence is easy to imagine. As is customary in taildraggers, the pilot would have begun the takeoff roll with the stick back. As the airplane gained speed, he would have pushed the stick forward to lift the tail. Because the pitch control was reversed, however, forward stick merely held the tail down, and before the pilot could reflect on the oddity of the tail failing to rise, the airplane, light in weight and accelerating, leaped into the air. At this point, startled by the suddenness with which he found himself airborne and by the airplane's persistent nose-high attitude, the pilot, who had 3,500 hours and was no stranger to taildraggers, would instinctively have pushed the stick farther forward. But this produced the opposite of the intended effect: The nose pointed to the sky, and the airplane struggled upward toward an inevitable stall. There was no time to think about what was happening or to reason that the airplane's perverse response to pitch control could mean only one thing. When it left the ground, the airplane's fate was sealed.