By Ryan Horton, EAA 1429008
We’ve all been there — “Grandpa had a 1959 Corvette,” “Grandma drove a ‘69 Camaro” — it’s the stories you hear year after year. But I have one, too, one that we all wish we could make happen, but few do.
I found my dad’s first airplane he had from about 1962-65 when he was in Vietnam. He spent every penny he had to get it when he was on active duty, then had to let it go when he got out of the service. This was the only real regret he seemed to have in life. He constantly mentioned that he wished he still had that airplane.
For years I knew my father as a working class person — he worked concrete and roofing, and mom was a secretary. It wasn’t until later that I learned of my father’s life. He didn’t talk about those years too often. There was a gap from 1959 to 1975 that was a gray area. It was his time in Vietnam for three years and then 13 years flying commercially until my sister and I were born.
Vietnam was never something he talked about. This took years to piece together. He was a jet engine mechanic in the Air Force stationed in the Philippines, and also spent time as a C-130 crewman. He said the pilots and crews were great and helped him learn how to fly since they liked him. He had nightmares to the day that he reluctantly shared about those years. I think that is why he rarely mentioned those years.
His down time was in Charleston, South Carolina. He spoke of that place often. He bought a 1946 Piper J-3 Cub from a guy name Foy Weatherford. He kept the airplane on Johns Island, South Carolina. My mother found some slides in an old box after I told her we were going to see the airplane in March 2021.
My father was a really good guy. He’d give you the shirt off his back even if it meant he would freeze himself. For years after Vietnam he flew anything that kept the bills paid. When I was a kid he talked about weather/winds, crazy flying stories, and mentioned things that went wrong in the airplanes when he was flying them. I had never flown an airplane, so much of this went in one ear and out the other when I was growing up.
When my kids were born in 2000 and 2003 he told the same stories, and when my son was 16 my uncle Tom took him up for his first airplane ride. That was it — he was hooked. He’s now a senior in college finishing his A&P and has his commercial pilot certificate. I also have a daughter who is 18 now following her dreams of becoming a pilot as well.
Fast forward to March 2021 — my father was 80 and dealing with Parkinson’s and I was taking care of him. He was having a “better day,” where his mind was working well, and I asked him if he remembered the tail number for that old Cub he talked about on and off for the past 40 years of my life. He remembered it. I found it in Florida outside of Tampa. We were going on a spring break trip in the area and I called the owner and left a message mentioning I just wanted to see it and get a couple pictures for Dad. The owner called back a day later. I was expecting to hear “it’s in pieces” or “it’s out back rotting away.” After telling my story the owner mentioned that the plane is in flyable shape and agreed to allow us to see it and take some pictures. He said, “I might be willing to sell it, too.” That’s not a nice thing to say to a guy with some sentimental ties to something like that. It was like a ghost of an idea actually became a reality.
I showed up and met probably the nicest people I’ve ever encountered. The family I met was Ray and Dell Foley. Ray was a helicopter crew chief in Vietnam, and he had many old airplanes that he fixed up over the years. He even went into the house and brought out some photos while we were there. This man had stories that should be written into a book. This man has seen and done things in his life that really makes you respect his service to the country, and he and his wife welcomed us and shared this with my wife and I.
After seeing the airplane with my wife and daughter, talking about the stories my dad had shared with me about it, Ray said he’d sell it “but it won’t be cheap.” I sold every old car and unused piece of equipment and widget I had laying around to get it, and now it’s back in the family. My uncle Tom, who was my son and daughter’s private pilot instructor, ferried it home from Tampa. This airplane was the first aircraft Tom had ever been in, and it’s the airplane that got him interested in flying.
Ray and Dell did an amazing job in the restoration of the airplane. They left it close to original with the exceptions of the metal spars and wing ribs. Ray extensively documented the entire restoration.
Ray and Dell mentioned that they think it almost was “meant to be” that Ray fixed up an old Cub he found rotting away in a Florida backyard in Tampa so many years ago, and he’s happy it’s going to another Vietnam vet and his family. My heart is eternally grateful to Ray and Dell for calling me back when I was already down there and helping make a dream of ours become a reality.
I was able to get dad to the hangar after it arrived at the Kenosha Regional Airport (KENW) in Wisconsin and get him out of the wheelchair long enough to get a picture. When we showed up in the hangar and wheeled him around the airplane, it was fun watching him tugging and pulling on it as he was preflighting it. This was a side of him I had never seen before — he never was around airplanes at all when I was growing up.
Since the time of that photo, Dad has died but this airplane has meant a lot to my kids and is a constant reminder of their grandfather.
Once it was home, my son flew it and he loved that airplane. He liked it so much that he managed to put 286 hours on it in four months. He was so proud of that airplane and showed it off everywhere he went. All of his friends were jealous of the low and slow Cub. I’ve never seen my son without a grin on his face when he’s around this airplane.
I can’t believe how much its means to my family to have the Cub back. The kids get to fly their grandpa’s old Cub that he talked about so much. If you can, take a kid up flying and the video games and TV become a thing of the past. It’s the only way we’re going to keep aviation alive.