When You Only Ride Rollercoasters for Love

When she asks, you go for a ride.

My daughter is nine years old. She seems too little to want to do crazy things, but she’s growing quickly and wants to try stuff. She has some emotional challenges that we’re working through, and I know about them because she’s like I was as a kid, but, like, way worse. I think. Kids are weird, man. They rewrite their own manuals every day.

We went to the school picnic yesterday. The biggest, baddest roller coaster at Kennywood Park near Pittsburgh, PA is called Phantom’s Revenge. It’s actually the tamed-down version of the old version of the coaster called The Steel Phantom that was absolutely brutal. It was too loud, too rough, and too wild. It was originally built in 1991 and revamped ten years later to calm it the fuck down. (There you go, Laurel, there’s one. )

The first time I ever rode the thing was in the 90s. My girlfriend at the time loved coasters and wanted me to go with her. I resisted for a long time but did eventually ride it with her. Or I did it for me because I didn’t want to be called a pussy. Whatever. Let’s just say I did it for love.

For anyone keeping track, the 90s were like thirty years ago. I still feel pretty young, but thirty years is lots of miles on the old odometer. And even though they tamed the coaster, the first two hills were the same and the bloody thing still goes 85mph.

My daughter looks up at this now-purple steel beast and says, “I wanna ride that. Can I?”

My wife and I looked at each other, playing a mental game of rock, paper, scissors with our eyes. One of us was going to Kiddieland with the little guy, and one of us was going to try and tackle the steel neck injury. Pick your poison.

I won. Or lost. We’ll see.

My daughter and I walk towards the line for the thing. I can feel her trepidation growing, and she started to warn me she may chicken out.

“Look, Kiddo, I’m kind of afraid of this, too. So let’s help each other, we’ll face our fears and do it together.” She agreed. (Edit: She is now helping me with this piece and swears she DID NOT agree.) Onward we went, hand in hand.

As we got closer and closer her anxiety grew to new and impressive levels. Soon, we were up next, and she was freaking the fuck out. Honestly, I wanted to bail, too, as I didn’t want to make her do something she didn’t really want to do, but it was go-time. We were in this together.

We buckle in. The bar comes down. It’s tight because I guess the park doesn’t want bodies splattered on the concrete.

We begin the ascent. She’s losing her mind more and more. Luckily the bar was so tight to her legs she couldn’t squirm out, because the higher we went the more she tried slithering down into the car.

I tried to distract her. “Hey, look, I think I see our car down there.” She didn’t care, as she was busy hyperventilating.

To all you judgy parents out there: If you don’t do something to necessitate therapy for your kids someday, are you even a parent?

We reach the peak, and it is FUCKING HIGH. Like, higher than a Cheech and Chong movie starring Willie Nelson, Snoop Dogg, Wiz Khalifa and Seth Rogan. The chain quiets and we begin to twist and fall. The first hill is steep, but it’s the second hill that really gets you. You drop down under a wooden coaster just for effect going 85mph and you duck instinctively. Then the thing starts to throw you around.

I wonder how she’s doing over there.

“I HATE IT!!! I HATE IT!!! IIII HHHAAATTTTTEEEE IIIIIITTTTT!!!!!!!”

I laughed and patted her leg. Not much I could do about it now. I laughed as much at her as I did at the fun I was having ruining all my neck muscles.

“III HHHAAATTTTEEE ITTTTT!”

Another couple seconds of air-time. A pause.

“OKAY, I’M STARTING TO LIKE IT!!!!”

Aaaaaand we pull into the station.

I was really proud of her. We faced our fears and did something I really didn’t think we’d do. And I will absolutely remember it forever, if only for the way she screamed “I HATE IT!” for most of the ride.

I’m still laughing about it. “I HATE IT!!!!” Every time we drive by I’m going to ask her how much she loved it.