There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots,
but there are no old, bold pilots...

That is what I was told on January 8, 1955, when I had my first familiarization flight in a ski-equipped Aeronca Champ on a cold winter day in Northern Maine. For most of my 54 years of private flying I believed that axiom. I no longer do. 

I now believe there is a third category of pilots––pilots who have been lucky. I also believe that there are no old pilots who have not also been lucky pilots. This book is about the adventures of a very lucky pilot who is now an old pilot.