The first metal midget to bear the Luscombe name was the almost-extinct, but still-legendary, Phantom which had lines and a round engine which made it look like a Lockheed Vega that had been run through the fast-dry cycle and shrunk two sizes. Not too many folks know about the Phantom today but Luscombe's second design, the lovely little 8 Series, always comes up when the conversation turns to airplanes that are fast for their horsepower, fun-to-fly and relatively cheap.

Luscombes didn't make the jump into the classic category quite as quickly as others in its peer group, like the sophisticated Swift or overtly practical Cessna 140 so, today, the dichotomy between the grassroots, around-the-patch king-of-the-el-cheapo-flying-machines, and the super-spiffy Naugahyde specials is striking. Surely Gene Popma's hot-rodded 8F custom category classic has to be leading the way in dragging more and more of the paint roller specials over to the side of the paint, pamper and polish fanatics.

I'm certain Popma doesn't consider himself to be a fanatic. On the other hand, he's a highly-intelligent, rational business executive who owns two 150 horsepower Luscombes, so he might just be perfectly willing to label himself "fanatic" and be damn proud of it.

Gene and I met as flying fanatics usually do . . . on a sunny day at an airport. Mother 'Nature had gotten her calendar screwed up and mistakenly gave us a Labour Day weekend with weather right out of a Kodak ad. I had both hands on the tail-wires of my Pitts and had just pushed it out through the open hangar doors when this winged block of chrome greased onto the runway and rolled up to the gas pumps. I could see my own reflection from halfway across the ramp, as I walked towards it in the natural gait of a Midwestern moth who was attracted to an eastern flame.

By the time I got over to the airplane the pilot and passenger had disappeared into the terminal, so I did several quick laps of the craft and made a beeline after them. There is undoubtedly a type of protocol to be used in rousting somebody out of a rest room but in this case a simple, "Hey-who owns that polished Luscombe?" was enough to bring Gene Popma out the door and headed in my direction. It would have been terribly disappointing had Gene been one of those I've-got-mine-you-find-yours type of individuals. Fortunately, Gene was as enthusiastic about showing his airplane as I was in looking.

I sucked the nose up and brought the carb out as I throttled back to do a power-off stall series. True to Luscombe form, the stick worked its way back into my belly and eventually, somewhere down around forty-five mph, the nose nodded gently and the wings quit flying. I made a comment that that's pretty much what I expected and Gene said, "Try a takeoff and departure stall."

I slowed the airplane down to around sixty, fed the power all the way in and, at the same time, brought the nose up and to the left, being very careful to keep the ball in the centre. At some number so low you couldn't read it, the airplane quit flying and started to roll off to the inside of the turn (maybe I didn't have the ball centred) and was doing so in no uncertain terms. So, yes, making a hotrod out of a cream puff can do certain things to its personality. Part of this personality change can be explained by the fact that its got enough extra weight forward of the firewall to require nine pounds of lead in the tail to keep the cg even close. That extra power also allows you to hang the nose up in the air so much higher and so much longer that, when it finally does pay off, it's at an angle a stock Luscombe could never hope to match.

Interestingly enough, the control response on the airplane was slightly different than the normal Luscombe. Luscombes have never been known to have slippery, super-quick ailerons but those on Gene's airplane were a little heavier than normal. Since we're running along at speeds easily twenty miles an hour over the normal Luscombe, part of the extra aileron force could be nothing more than increased air loads. The rudder, however, still lacks feeling, a trait that some give as the reason for the Luscombe reputation as being a little more difficult to handle on the runway than most tail-draggers. Their ground handling is actually no worse; it's just that the rudder has so little feel and the pedals have such a short throw, that it is very easy to over-control on rollout-something I always call upon my own mental CRT before I turn final in a Luscombe.

ALL THROUGH THE PATTERN, ESPECIALLY ON Final, I was reminded what a floater Luscombes can be. Those long, highly-effective wings let you come down final in the neighbourhood of seventy to seventy-five mph and glide forever. Even though I knew this, I still had to come down final bent a bit sideways to slip off excess altitude. I had spent the preceding couple of days trying to get back into shape in my own airplane (forty-seven landings in three days in a Pitts Special!), and my mind was still running at Pitts speed, which is Warp 9 compared to the Luscombe's dog trot. It was a smooth, windless day, and I felt as if we were swimming our way through perfectly clear molasses and slow motion was the best we could do.

A slow motion, three-dimensional waltz brought us down to the centre line with only minor adjustments from the flight deck. Incidentally, when trimming, I found the crank-type elevator trim, which is mounted on the front edge of the seat between the tightly-packed butts, to be just a little awkward to use-only because the blubber-limited access.

As we floated down towards the approach end of the runway, I began bleeding off speed and rounded out about two feet high, with the intention of holding it off as long as it would stay up, which is exactly what I did. I made a beautiful landing about a foot in the air and subjected this polished aluminium sculpture to the indignity of a much-less-than-perfect landing. I seemed to be more upset about it than the airplane was-she rolled out nice and straight on the grass with gentle nudges from me one way or the other to keep her nose where it should be. I'd flown Luscombes enough on pavement to know that they're sometimes not quite as well behaved on hard surfaces, although they are only marginally quicker than a Cessna 1201140. With those long wings, however, a gusty crosswind can keep you busy.