I left Wisalla and after a one hour drive North I arrived at JR's. An airfield, a few hangars with houses, a silver car and a friendly man. Must have met him the first year in New Holstein, but then everyone was new to me … JR told me about the terrible loss he had: May 14th his friend Neal B. Burleson had made a deadly crash with his Cub in the woods nearby. The coroner said it was a blood clod in Neals brain that 'd caused it. In JR's hangar the remains of Neals Cub were divided in two: good to be sold, and trash. A guy had come in to buy the engine.