Years ago, an "old bird" confided in me that there are a lot more bad cooks in this world than there are tough chickens. This tidbit of wisdom was imparted to me in confidence because it was my wife that was talking about how gristly an ornery old rooster had been. It was a sort of left- handed insult, a presentation of assured opinion from which you can draw your own conclusions. Last week I came across another such presentation in a magazine article about the Luscombe airplanes built in the 1940s. In opposition to the Luscombe's reputation for unsure ground handling, the author stated that there are "... more directionally unstable pilots than there are slippery airplanes".

I can remember Luscombes from my first days of flying in the early seventies. Most airports had one or two of them abandoned at the back of the parking area, and the ones that were still flying were seldom impressive. It was mostly a matter of being out of style, because the planes have good history behind them. Designed with a clever simplicity, they are sleek without being complicated, and are credited as the first "everyman's plane" to cruise at an honest 100 MPH. They were the first commercially successful light airplanes built entirely of aluminum.

I never thought too much about them until last week when a gorgeous Luscombe parked in front of our shop. The lines of the fuselage flowed from one detail to the next, and a deep metalflake paint made the plane sparkle in the sun. Inside, the seats and side panels had been re-upholstered with the same flair as an old touring car. In short, the plane was prettier than new.

The Luscombe is actually quite an attractive choice for restoration. Many were built, so there are plenty of them left, and there is a fairly large interest group. Many more of them exist in aviation junkyards where serviceable parts are made available to sustain the planes still flying. Interestingly, many replacement parts are now being manufactured by a group of people dedicated to the survival of their favorite plane. They were fortunate to acquire the operating authority and many of the original factory drawings, jigs, and fixtures.

The plane I saw last week was different though. Sleek to the point of sensuality, it had the word "experimental" written on each door. Its owners had registered it as a research and development plane so that they could fly it with short wings. I have always felt a kinship for long wings that gracefully lift planes into the air, but short wings have their advantages, too. Aircraft design, if you will recall, is a chain of compromises between lift, weight, thrust, drag, and money.

Short wings don't lift as well, but since they create less drag, they allow the plane to go faster. They also give the plane quicker roll response because of reduced air resistance and inertial effects. Finally, shorter wings are able to resist higher "G" forces. With the shorter wings, the plane loses some effectiveness flying in and out of short runways but gains a higher cruise speed and additional capability for acrobatic flight.

So many airplanes, so little time. This airplane left us lusting. I, however, have to remember that I have responsibilities. Even as I gazed at the pretty Luscombe, my little red plane waited patiently in the hangar for my return.