My wife and mother were riding with me through east Colorado in our Subaru at night. We had come to this tiny town in which we were to apparently turn left, but I continued to keep going straight for the next block. There was no stop sign, so I kept going at 25 MPH on the pitch black street. Suddenly, we were completely airborne, having hit the incredibly sharp crown of an east-west street (we were heading north). The car sailed for at least three seconds before coming back down between parked cars on either immediate side.
I stopped the car and we got out to see what had just happened and to assess any damage.
I have never experienced anything like that before in my life, but I can attest to leaping a good 10-15 vertical feet from a “slow” moving car.
Good think you were in a Scoob, with that flat four up front. If you’d been driving a nose-heavy car, you’d have met the pavement head on.
Hubby and I were driving down a dirt road in Oklahoma when we came over a little rise and saw half the road had been washed away. He wasn’t going very fast but there was no stopping in time so hubby gunned it. It was smooth sailing so someone was looking out for us. When we were across, we looked back to see a bit of tire marks on the passenger side and then nothing as the whole thing had fallen through. All he could say the rest of the day was, “I’m sorry, honey, oh, I’m so sorry.” Crazy.