My dad is an adrenalin junkie. Here is the proof in his own words:
Well, there I was just flying along at 600 feet, just 400 yards off the west end of my runway. All was well. Except the thought that entered my feeble mind. "I think I'll do an engine-out landing.", my sick brain said. Before I could talk any sense into my own head I had flipped one mag switch. The engine slowed slightly, and much to my dismay, I flipped the second switch. Silence is supposed to be golden, but the silence was not to be enjoyed. One eye on the runway threshold, one eye on the air speed indicator and one eye on the altimeter....wait, that's three eyes. How did I do that. Anyway, I made an Albatross-like landing about 150 yards down the runway. As I sat there on the runway in silence a terrible thing ran through my head, "Do it again!" So I did. The landing went rather smoothly this time. Slid that thing onto the runway at about 50 knots, taxied to a stop and just sat there enjoying the silence. When I noticed how much I was sweating I restarted the engine and taxied on home. Man, what a ride.