I’ll try to keep the memoir to a minimum, but it’s relevant to this story so please bear with me. I soloed in a Piper J-3 Cub in September 1965, from a 1650-foot runway at Marlboro, Mass. Most of my instructors cut their teeth in the 1930s and had four- and five-digit certificate numbers. Their instructional style when all was going well was austere and there was no “spoon feeding.” You were expected to be prepared and already know the basics. For the most part they were just safety pilots.