Why a Book About Flying Super Cubs—Or Taildraggers in General?
Most pilots do their training—and most of their flying—in tricycle gear aircraft. So why bother writing a book about Taildraggers?
Simple:
When I started pilot training over 16 years ago, I had one mission in mind:
Fly in Africa.
Just like Finch-Hatton in Out of Africa.
Granted, I wasn’t a fan of the Tiger Moth, but I did (briefly and stupidly) consider buying a Boeing Stearman.
Luckily, I ended up with something much better: a Super Cub.
After the initial tailwheel endorsement, I began devouring every book I could find on Taildragger flying. Two became my trusted companions:
Both are brilliant. But I always felt there was room for one more—
a guide with less sanctimony, more sarcasm.
One that teaches through bruised egos, bent airframes, and hard-won laughs.
Because flying a Taildragger isn’t very different from flying a nosewheel plane.
Operating it on the ground—during taxi, takeoff, and landing, especially in crosswinds—is.
So...
Are Taildragger pilots the better pilots?
No.
But they do tend to be safer—at least if they master the techniques involved and, more importantly, never get complacent.
Because complacency is what kills pilots.
No matter how many hours you’ve flown, it only takes a few seconds of laziness or overconfidence to end up in the wreckage.
I’ve seen it too often: thousands of hours logged, endless experience, and they still wind up as a tragic footnote in an accident report.
Sometimes they take innocent passengers with them.
Even the great Sparky—despite all his wisdom—flew straight into rising terrain.
So this isn’t just a book about flying Taildraggers.
It’s about surviving them, enjoying them, respecting them.
It’s about knowing when to push, when to laugh, and when to stop pretending you’re immortal just because the tail’s behind you.
Let’s get started.
Let’s rip off the band-aid: Tricycle gear aircraft—those comfort-first configurations with a reassuring nose wheel up front—are like golden retrievers. Predictable. Friendly. Obedient. Safe enough for dentists, influencers, and the kind of people who think flying is a good time for a podcast.
Before we dive tailwheel-first into taildragger ops—mainly how to survive taxi, takeoff, and landing without embarrassment or an insurance claim—let’s detour into the septic tank of pilot mythology.
This book contains dark humour, violent metaphors, aviation truths, and unapologetic sarcasm about taildraggers—those beautiful, evil machines designed to humble the overconfident and harvest the souls of tricycle pilots.
Flying a Super Cub is a bit like dating a chainsaw. It looks sexy in pictures, sounds incredible when it roars to life, and will absolutely maul you if you touch it wrong.
