"You’d Fly Laughing Too" presents fun tales of people up in the air in more ways than one.
Canadian humour writer Garth Wallace scores again with hilarious yarns from his years as a pilot and flying instructor at small-town air services.
This time Wallace adds a Piper Super Cub to his cast of crazy characters. The laughter builds as the author flies in and out of trouble around the industrialized Great Lakes, a region obviously not ready for land-anywhere pilots.

"You’d Fly Laughing Too" is the sequel to "If Clouds Could Talk". It is number seven in Wallace’s series of funny flying stories.

You'd Fly Laughing Too

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Sample chapter - You'd Fly Laughing Too

Super copter

Spending a day battling big city traffic in a temperamental old car didn’t appeal to me. I decided to fly the Cub to Toronto Pearson International Airport on Thursday morning.
At the time, Canada’s busiest airport allowed any aircraft to fly in and out. Most pilots of small airplanes were smart enough to avoid the area but I decided that I could go anywhere with the mighty Super Cub. Besides, the propeller overhaul shop was handy to the general aviation area at the north end of the big airfield.
I departed at eight o’clock and followed the shoreline of Lake Ontario at 1,500 feet. A strong wind had kicked up from the southwest giving me a quartering headwind. The Cub’s airspeed indicator read 90 mph with a 65 per cent power setting of 2350 rpm in level flight. I did a groundspeed check. It was 55 mph. I looked at the traffic on the highway below. I could have been down there passing me in my car.
I settled in for a long, bumpy flight. At least it was an opportunity to check the oil temperature and fuel consumption without the drag of a banner. So far, they were both normal. I spent the rest of that leg looking at the farmland waking up to spring 
I selected the Toronto International Airport information frequency before making the turn northeast bound at the end of Lake Ontario. The recorded Information Lima said that Runways 24 Left and Right and Runway 23 were active. The surface wind was 230 at 30 gusting to 35 knots.
I turned northeast and climbed the Cub to 2,500 feet, high enough to enter the Toronto Terminal Area at the outer ring. Then I switched to the VFR Terminal frequency.
“Toronto Terminal, Super Cub Sierra Charlie Uniform Bravo is by the Burlington Sky9way Bridge at 2,500 feet squawking 1200 inbound for Toronto International with Information Lima.”
“Air Canada 139, turn to 265 for the intercept, you’re cleared ILS 24 Left.”
The controller was working two positions at once, IFR and VFR Arrivals. Replies from the airline pilots didn’t come up on my frequency. The double duty controller continued talking.
“United Express 233, behind the Airbus, turn left to 290.”
He worked two other aircraft before me.
“VFR Super Cub, descend to 2,000, turn left to 020, vectors for Runway 23, squawk 5512.”
“Charlie Uniform Bravo.”
I set up the turn and the descent and switched my transponder to 5512. I continued to hear the one-sided IFR transmissions. I let the airspeed build up to 100 mph in the descent hoping that I could impress the controller. His radar would show that the tailwind was giving me a 140-mph ground speed. If that didn’t impress him, he might park me in a corner of his airspace and forget me. I leveled at 2,000 feet and set the power to 2450 rpm.
“Charlie Uniform Bravo is level 2,000.”
“Charlie Uniform Bravo, radar contact. Expect to join the right downwind for 23.”
“Uniform Bravo.”
I was being vectored across and under the traffic departing Toronto’s parallel runways. I could see the airport. Soon, I was told to switch to the tower controller for landing sequencing.
“Toronto Tower, Charlie Uniform Bravo is with you at 2,000.”
The controller responded as if I was an airborne epidemic. “Charlie Uniform Bravo, confirm it’s a Piper Super Cub?”
“Affirmative, Uniform Bravo.”
“And you want to land at Pearson International?” His voice rose at the end of the question.
“Affirmative, Uniform Bravo.”
“Turn left to 360 degrees, vectors for the right downwind to Runway 23, Uniform Bravo.”
He was turning me away from the airport, parking me in a corner.
“Uniform Bravo.”
So the controller didn’t like handling slower traffic. He should have known that Super Cubs don’t take up much airspace and can be landed on a dime. I started thinking like a righteous Cub pilot. 
“Two can play this game,” I said to the airplane.
I turned to the new heading, waited one minute and then countered its effect by slowing to 70 mph. The lower speed increased the drift in the strong wind giving me the same ground track as before.
The controller was busy on the same frequency handling all the traffic taking off and landing on three runways. I reached the right downwind, turned right and applied more power.
“Charlie Uniform Bravo is right downwind 23.”
“Charlie Uniform Bravo?” Mr. Big-Airplanes-Only sounded surprised. “Downwind already? Did you miss the left turn I gave you?”
“Negative, Uniform Bravo.”
“Better slow down, Uniform Bravo. It will be a while before I can fit you in.” 
I think I was supposed to say, “Forget it,” and go somewhere else. “Uniform Bravo,” I replied. I considered being told to slow down as a victory for little airplanes.
“You’re currently number five, Uniform Bravo, behind a Learjet presently 14 miles back for 23.”
Maybe it wasn’t a victory. He was doing a good job of keeping me discouraged.
“Uniform Bravo.”
“Air Canada 139, cleared to land, Runway 24 left.”
“Cleared to land on the left side, 139.”
The battle wasn’t over yet. I reduced the power, raised the nose and extended full flap. I trimmed the Cub to hang from its propeller at 45 mph. Then I turned the airplane 180 degrees and flew into the wind.
On a heading of 230, the Cub floated slowly backward over the ground. The controller’s radar would show that I was tracking 050 degrees at five mph. This went unnoticed for several minutes before someone in the tower must have picked up the binoculars.
“Charlie Uniform Bravo,” the controller barked, “what are you doing now?”
“Uniform Bravo is flying downwind, slowly,” I said.
There was a long pause. “Charlie Uniform Bravo, you’re number four following the Learjet.”
“Negative contact, Uniform Bravo.”
Of course I couldn’t see the traffic. It was still ten miles away and I was flying with my back to it.
“United Express 233, cleared to land 24 Right.”
“Cleared to land 24 Right, 233.”
“Charlie Uniform Bravo, what airspeed can you give me on final?”
“Anywhere from 30 to 85 knots, Uniform Bravo.”
That translated from a minus five to a plus 50-knot forward ground speed. The other traffic would be approaching at 100 to 120 knots over the ground.
“This is not going to work, Charlie Uniform Bravo.”
This comment made me as uncooperative as the controller...