Sometimes it just happens. Sometimes there's a nearby hilly street that your brother swears a car moving at just the right speed could catch some serious air on, and of course you remind him that we don't live in a Dukes of Hazzard episode and it couldn't be done, and so the issue rests for maybe a dozen years... until, one night, while the two of you are driving home in the dark, he gives you that sidelong glance-- you know the one-- and before you can draw the breath to say "Whatever you're thinking, no!" absolutely floors it up the hill and all you can do is hope that there's no oncoming traffic or kids playing in the street at 2 in the morning as yes, all four of the car's tires do leave the pavement, and you look over at your brother mid-scream and realize that in all those years since the issue first came up the idiot has made absolutely NO plans about the landing!

Soon after, you are quite relieved to have an excuse to move out of state.

(P.S.: More stream-of-consciousness than directly related, but... whoa.)