My best flight ever started when I pulled the cable release knob in a Kirby Cadet for my first circuit at Booker in 1948. Oh the joy of not having to just stick to the straight line of a high hop and to be able make my own decisions about height and position just from what I could see.
The worst one was in a Shackleton in February 1953 when we went out to locate the ocean weather stations that had been driven off station in the Atlantic by the storms that caused the East Coast floods around the North Sea. Ground speeds on any heading in the north-west quadrant were down in double digits.
Nobody could get out of their seats on that flight due to the turbulence, but the weather station crews had had it worse.