Way back when, I guess about '69 or so, big fun was to climb up a few thousand feet, shut off the engine, stop the prop and glide like a bird back to the airport, only to get out, start er up and do it again... Gliding down with the window open and the door off, you could hold your arms out and it felt like you were really flying.
I still remember pretty damn good, standing in front, and swinging the prop on my ol Champ, right in the middle of the runway, after one of these glider rides.
The engine came to life at about 7/8 throttle, I must have unknowingly bumped it in with my knee, while getting out. It really took me by surprise, and by the time I had backed up, kinda regained my footing, jumped aside, and ducked under the wing strut, it was going at a really good clip. I ran behind it, with my big furry arctic parka blowing back like Superman's cape, saw I was getting left behind, and finally just jumped and sort of caught the door with my fingertips. SHIT.....Dragging along on the toes of my boots, fighting to hang on...SHIT... Well, after what seemed like forever, and was probably 3 seconds, I was just barely able to do a sort of chin-up, and finally, reach in as I was dragging and cut the throttle. Then it was just hold on for dear life.....SHIT.... as we bounced off the runway and through a bunch of brush.
Whew.... Shit....If there had of been a door on it, she would have been a gonner... Puff Puff.... Shake Shake...
Previously, I would have bet any amount of money that, that would never happen to me.... But,....SHIT.... happens.