Growing up, we flew in my dad's 4-seat (and later 7-seat) Cherokee very frequently and he'd always comment on his landing. He judged his entire flight by how easy it was to identify when the tire made contact with the runway. I remember a flight in high winds that he put down so softly that nobody could tell when we hit the ground. I also remember a landing when I was alone with my dad where we encountered a cross-wind a few seconds before making contact resulting in my slamming my head into the top of the cockpit and yelling "Mother F*cker!" (I was 14, he'd never heard me swear before and it was a bonding moment that he shrugged it off and thought it was totally warranted given the circumstances).