You know, this is probably the first plane I ever threw up in.

This said to the pilot, as he leaned inside the Super Cub cockpit.

This brought a laugh, and acknowledgment.

"You're probably right."

Thinking about it now, though, I suspect that may not have been true. I think my first experience in small planes (or any plane, for that matter), was with a fellow biologist, who took me up in his personal Super Cub to show me where some of my larger strutting grounds were.

Know I got nauseated on that flight, so I suspect I threw up, too.

But this Super Cub?

I've been in it plenty of hours over the past 28+ years. Thrown up in it plenty, too. Until I stumbled upon the trick of sticking a finger down inside the empty slot between my knees.

This Cub is a trainer (Heck, maybe they all are. I don't know.) There's a rod extending under the front seat to the rear, and a slot for inserting a second control stick. If you want, the pilot can sit in back, and take control of the maneuvering of the plane if necessary.

We, of course, do not fly with the second control stick. But if you insert one finger gently into that slot, you can feel each and every subtle move the pilot is making up front. You know when the plane is going to dip or turn, and how much.

Made a world of difference for my nausea.

But it won't matter any more.

The Cub is gone.

Pilot's been warning he was trying to sell it for months. Maybe over a year.

This month he got the deed done. And today, when we finished our elk flight, we rolled the Cub out of the hangar before putting the Cessna back in.

For the last time. Today the little red and white plane got a bath, and then was flown to its new owner.

I was the only one who took pictures. Suspect the others, pilot included, have had plenty of time to reconcile the loss of this piece of equipment that has been around for over three decades.

It gets so little use these days (a little more than 30 hours a year), it just didn't make sense to pay the insurance, and keep the maintenance up. Best pass it on to someone who will use it.

We had fun cleaning it out, though. The almost fifty-year old owner's manual was still there in the pocket. Along with twenty-some years worth of loose shotgun shells, from the days when it was legal to hunt coyotes that way.

I will not miss the smell of aircraft fuel that always came along with any flight, the fuselage of the boxy plane being anything but airtight.

Nor will I miss the steel chairs with hardly any padding. The sore butt that always ensued after any flight longer than an hour, much less those that lasted over three. This despite the thick throw cushions we've used for the past two decades or so.

Asked pilot if he was passing those on to the new owner...

Yes.

He showed none of the nostalgia I would have had. Just concern that the new owner, while a licensed pilot, may not be up to handling a Cub. The Super Cub is a bush plane. To fly one, you ought to be comfortable landing it on a two-track dirt road.

Not sure the new owner will be.

Should I mention he's over 70?

Just the same, Five-seven Zebra has moved on to a new home.

May she keep the wind beneath her wings...