1983, at a RAF base in England, I hear on our tac radio that a French Mirage is ready for takeoff and he’s going to do a power climb. (We figured the pilot must have been a personal friend of the Wing Commander). I am parked near the end of the parallel runway. I see him coming towards me. He lifts off and retracts the landing gear, but remains at 30 feet or so above the runway.
He flies like that for two thirds of the runway and just as he gets parallel to me he pulls back and that plane roared as it went straight up into the sky. I stood there watching that plane until the tiny little black dot disappeared!
Wow, still!